School's out.

Today had been a great day for Cypher Maddox.

It was the last day of school- thank God for that- and Cypher was squirming impatiently in his seat, ready to bolt as soon as the final bell rang. Not that he had anything against school; on the contrary, he loved the white-washed walls and semi-polished floors of District 3's one and only high school, and almost everything that came with it. Of course, it wasn't perfect. Nothing was perfect, except maybe Cypher himself, but it was a whole lot better than the garage he lived in with his seizure-prone grandfather and oh-so responsible big sister breathing down his neck. Here, he didn't feel like the shadow standing within his sister's much bigger and more substantial shadow. Here, he had friends and an actual life other than making sure his grandfather didn't bite his own tongue off during one of his episodes and fixing other peoples' junk. If anything, school was better than home. But summer meant he could sleep in more. And Cypher loved sleeping.

So, when the sharp, rattling toll of the year's last bell rang out through the school, he sprung from his chair and made for the door, letting out a loud whoop that was echoed by several of his other newly-liberated peers. Students spilled out into the hallway, cheering and laughing with their friends, and Cypher jumped up and slapped one of the glowing red "EXIT" signs before pushing through the heavy double doors that led out into open, smog-filled air of District 3. Boys and girls hurried past him in their eagerness to get home, friends breaking off into groups to head to some place to celebrate. Realizing that he hadn't seen Jacob since lunch (when he'd- quite hilariously- tripped and spilled his food all over the linoleum floor), Cypher casually scanned the crowd for familiar jet-black hair and stormy-gray eyes. He rounded a corner, whistling a light tune with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"What's your problem?" he heard someone snarl from somewhere way off to his left, and Cypher's lip curled up instinctively at voice. Dalton Hithers. Probably backed up by his brainless sidekick, Richi. He vaguely wondered which poor sap was the object of their tormenting today.

"No, what's your problem?"

Ah. He knew that voice. Why am I not surprised?

"What? I don't want any mouth!" came the heated reply to that foolish little stunt of Jacob's. Cypher turned just in time to see Dalton's fist rearing back for the kill, his scrawny friend standing rigid and defiant in front of him. The kid was doomed.

"Hey!" Cypher called just as Dalton's fist collided with Jacob's jaw so hard he spun on his feet before crashing down onto the rough cobblestone. He winced inwardly. That looked like it hurt. "Hey, Dalton! You look like you're having fun! Did that make you feel better about yourself, you pathetic piece of shit?" Cypher might not be as freakishly muscled- seriously, how old were they, nine?- as the two boys, but he was older and taller. Hopefully his seniority would be enough to keep them from turning their fists on him. After all, he could socially crush them with just a few whispered lies in some gossip-monger's ear. Oh, how lucky Jacob was to have him as a friend.