Hardship

Aman reluctantly dragged himself to school.

As he walked in through the gates, he could feel the stares of the others who were entering along with him.

He had practice dealing with the stares.

A year ago, when he had been tall, muscled and handsome, the stares had been ones of admiration and envy.

Over the months, as he had steadily sold off his genes, the stares had reduced in intensity till they had reached utter disregard before they had begun to transform into ones of loathing and disgust.

He was inured to the stares after learning how superficial society really was.

He was still the same person inside, yet the treatment he received was so disparate.

That was why the Government banned the trading of intelligence genes as it basically meant fundamentally altering someone's personality.

Not that it stopped black market traders.

Aman knew. He had grown quite familiar with the shadier elements of the city over the year as selling privately gave more money than selling genes to the Government.

He quietly sidled into the classroom and took his seat in the most inconspicuous corner.

Soon, a loud, brash voice disrupted the quiet of the morning.

The owner of the voice was the reason for his discretion.

Ashok Rana was the definition of the schoolyard jock. He was large, he was muscled and he was athletic.

But until a year ago, his halo had been covered by Aman.

He was the vice-captain of the football team. Aman had been the captain.

He was the second-most popular guy. Aman was the undisputed first.

Having perpetually been supressed by Aman, he had accumulated a lot of resentment and when misfortune had struck, he had made sure to make Aman's school life as hellish as possible.

The heckling and bullying had been particularly intense for the first few months but had slowly settled to the level of an occasional beat down.

After all, punching someone got boring after the hundredth time.

Ashok's eyes scanned the class and they lit up when they rested upon Aman.

Aman's heart sank.

Damn. It seemed that he was in the mood for some exercise today.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his head while his nails dug into his palm under the desk.

It was at moments like this that he wished he had his strength back just so he could sock the brat right in his smug face.

The bell rang and the teacher walked in with her books.

Eveline D'Souza had mixed British-Indian heritage and was a devout catholic.

She taught Aman's class English; both the literature and grammar portions. Today, she had a large packet along with her.

The graded mid-semester tests.

The class went into a tizzy of discussion about how they had done before a sharp glare through her horn-rimmed glasses brought them to heel.

She was infamous for being extremely stingy with her marks and even those with confidence in their performance felt nervous.

Aman calmly waited for his results. After the incident with his sister, he had rapidly matured, shedding a lot of the impetuousness of youth.

He had done his best and whatever that got him, he would accept and move on.

But when Miss D'Souza reached the end of her pile without calling out his name, he finally grew nervous. He hadn't mislabelled his paper, had he?

If so, he would fail the test. His intelligence was the only thing that he had retained.

He didn't want even that to stop mattering due to some freak accident.

Just when he was about to panic, the teacher took out a paper from her bag and said, "In my several years teaching this class, this answer sheet is the best I have ever received. Considering that the next best result was only an eighty percent, I have decided to award him full marks. I hope you all can learn something from Aman's answer sheet."

She adjusted her glasses, causing them to flash white. "I have sent a copy to you by mail. I want a comparison of your answers with his on my desk by the end of next week. Failure to do so will cause a grade to be deducted from your final results. Any questions?"

Aman shrank into his seat. While he was happy with his grade, the resentful visions of his classmates were almost substantive.

Particularly, the gaze of Ashok and his cronies spelt retribution.

When the lunch bell rang, Aman made a dash for the door. His agility was the only stat except intelligence which he hadn't sold much of. So, he was quite close to his old speed as previously the stat had been 8.

Unfortunately, though he was fast, Ashok and his cronies were prepared.

Two hulking guys, Ronnie and Rohit stood there blocking the door like bouncers at a bar. Aman had to stop short. as he took a step back, he bumped into someone behind his back.

He looked up to see that it was Ashok, grinning at him maliciously. He clenched his teeth at the feeling of powerlessness. A year ago, he would be the one looking down on the bastard.

He suddenly felt a fist to his stomach and the air rushed out of his lungs as he doubled up in pain.

Ronnie and Rohit didn't let up the opportunity by kicking him from the back and making him sprawl on the ground. Rohit put a foot on the small of his back while Ronnie pressed down his head with his foot. From where his face was turned, Aman could see his classmates silently looking on.

Nobody dared to protest against Ashok. Nobody even wished to stand up for him. In fact, some seemed to be enjoying the show.

Bastards. He cursed in his mind.

A shoe blocked his field of vision and he knew it was Ashok's. "That should show you. Smarty-pants. Perfect score in English and now we all have to compare our answers with yours. Peh."

Aman tried to struggle but he had no leverage and after a while he had to give up.

Ashok nudged his face with his shoe. "Oi. Shouldn't you apologize to everyone? C'mon. Say sorry."

Aman mumbled out a reply.

Ashok hinted Ronnie to let up the pressure on his foot. "Say it louder, dumbass."

"Fuck you."

Ashok's face clouded over. He was just going to say something when a clear female voice resounded.

"What are you doing?"

Aman's heart sank to the valley. Moving his head with difficulty, he saw the speaker approaching them.

It was a pretty girl with dark hair tied up in a ponytail that swung with her brisk steps.

They weren't the only things that swung with her footsteps.

Ashok grinned and welcomed the girl. "Sneha. No need to worry. Just taking out the trash."

He stepped up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. She made a token protest before letting him do as he wished, not complaining even when his hand slipped below her waistline.

Aman's eyes almost seemed to burn as he stared at the two of them.

Sneha had been his girlfriend for almost a year when his sister fell ill and he had to start selling off his genes.

She hadn't said anything at first but after the second month when the effects began to become prominent, she had straight up dumped him.

While he had tried hard to come to terms with her leaving him. Her actions had made it utterly impossible to forgive her.

It hadn't even taken her a month to hook up with Ashok.

It seemed that she just wanted to have the most popular boy as her boyfriend. It didn't matter who that was.

Not only that, she often provoked Ashok to act against him while acting like she was trying to dissuade him which fired the dumb brute up further.

She also made it seem like Aman hadn't lost heart and kept stalking her, thus ruining his reputation.

As he watched, Ashok started getting really sticky with her and yet she didn't push him away.

Aman sneered internally. During their entire relationship, she hadn't even let him touch her while now she was behaving so profligately.

The thing was that with him as her ex-boyfriend, she probably had to put down her stance to get Ashok to be her boyfriend.

When Ashok got a bit too excessive, she pushed him away and whispered something into his ear.

From his excited look, the contents could be guessed.

Ashok waved at Rohit and Ronnie. "Take the trash away. I don't have time to play with him now."

He then left with Sneha.

Throughout the entire time, she didn't even spare him a look.

Rohit pulled him to his feet and Ronnie twisted his arm behind his back until he had to stand on tiptoes to reduce the pressure.

Then the two goons frog-marched him to the male washrooms.

Seeing them come in, the people inside hastily cleared out.

They were in the final year of school and nobody wanted to mess with them.

Pushing him into a cubicle, Rohit gave his back a push and without any leverage, he fell forwards.

With a splash his face went into the toilet bowl and Ronnie fisted his hand in his hair and held him down.

He began thrashing and bucking wildly as he tried to surface to breathe.

His low endurance stat making him unable to bear it for long.

Just as the edges of his vision were going black, Ronnie let him go and he came up coughing and sputtering.

He lay there curled up on the floor breathing in shuddering gasps.

The sound of Rohit and Ronnie's laughter seemed to be far away.

He indistinctly heard the sound of pants being unzipped and then two pungent warm streams covered him.

He only lay there with his mind blank.

After a short while, the two of them stopped and went away. He could hear their laughter growing fainter. After a while, he shakily stood up and walked up to the basin and washed his hair and face.

He looked at the haggard, ugly face staring back at him. He pushed the dripping wet strands of hair off his face.

Someday. Somehow. He would have his revenge.