Next morning came quietly, waking Sam up with a gentle touch of autumn sun. Unwillingly, he attempted to stand up from his bed, but finally decided to stay just a bit longer.
Mornings tend to be like this, when you don't anticipate anything during the day.
It was a chilly November Saturday; the town slowly started coming to life. Monotone noise of cars filled the air, as people begun their daily routine.
Since Saturdays were off, Sam could take a breath from schoolwork - and he was very much glad about that. Although yesterday's incident was relatively mild, Sam was still shaken inside.
He also thought about the girl he saw through the window - just who was she? Her eyes seemed blank and lifeless... and to Sam, that was like looking into a mirror.
Finally, he mustered enough strength to lift himself from the comfort of the bed.
As to not give his father any reasons to snap at him right from the morning,
he made sure his sheets are all nice and smooth; then looked over his bedroom to see what he could do to make this mess more bearable.
The bedroom was fairly small; a simple, square-shaped room with a bed right next to the wall.
On the opposite side, an old desk, a bit worn out, and a squeaky chair; this is where Sam was supposed to study.
Above the desk there was a single shelf, where he kept his notebooks and textbooks; all cluttered there in disorder.
A little bit closer to the window stood a small wardrobe, keeping all of Sam's clothes - not that he had a lot.
Some of them found their place on the floor, abandoned carelessly some days ago; other were piled up in the mentioned wardrobe.
An old plate was lying next to Sam's bed - the one that he didn't get to carry back to the kitchen because of his father in an alcoholic rage and forgot about later.
Overall, the room was very minimalistic; with pretty much no decorations except for slightly ragged, red curtain covering parts of the window.
Without thinking too much, Sam gathered scattered clothes and threw them into the wardrobe; then he slightly organized all the books on his shelf and picked up the old plate.
Carefully peeking out through the door, and then taking small, quiet steps through the corridor, he confirmed his assumptions: mom already left for her shift,
while father was still asleep on the couch. 'Good', he thought to himself. 'There's still time'.
Sam carried the old plate back where it belonged, and quickly got dressed up. He wanted to leave the house before his father wakes up, so that he doesn't have to endure his hungover attitude.
Sam hoped a bit that father would go on another drinking escapade that would last a couple days; it was just wishful thinking, though, as they were rather rare.
Not wasting a minute, Sam snuck out of the house and begun walking at a slow, steady pace. A gentle breeze carried fallen leaves out of his path, as he thought what to do to pass his free time.
Sam didn't really have friends; kids at school strayed away from the quiet, constantly bruised outcast.
Sam himself didn't look for attention either, as he was ashamed of his situation and didn't want to share it with anyone.
Not expecting understanding from anyone, he kept hiding in the last rows of desks in classrooms, alienating himself from his classmates,
not realizing the sad cycle of loneliness that he also fueled within himself.
Since he couldn't come up with anything interesting, Sam decided to look around for the girl he noticed yesterday - the chances of an encounter were slim,
but it was still more amusing than walking around without a purpose.
Sam assumed that the girl has to be from a wealthy family,
considering hers and her guardian's clothes - so he started searching for a house that would hold up to what he thought would be wealthy people's standards.
The town Sam lived in was fairly small, so he assumed his search would have to pay off eventually.
And indeed, after an hour of walking, he noticed a house that was quite large in comparison to usual houses in the neighbourhood.
To Sam, it looked truly magnificent - a two-storey detached house, with a vast backyard, on which grew flowers and shrubs of different sorts,
all immaculately trimmed and definitely well taken care of.
Next to the house, there was a garage, with a spotless driveway; the entire area was surrounded by a fancy-looking metal fence,
through which the only possible entrances were the entry gate and a wicket, next to which he noticed an intercom.
Sam stood for a long while, admiring the house, feeling jealous of its residents; to him, it looked like a completely different dimension, colorful and bright, as opposed to his home,
which felt more like a prison cell.
Then, he noticed something that drew his attention - through the perfectly polished glass window, a pair of oddly familiar eyes were looking straight at him.
'Lucy, what are you doing?'
'Nothing, I'm sorry.'
'This is no time to bum around! The tutor will be arriving shortly. Make sure you're ready and focused before that!'
'Understood, mom. I'm sorry.'