Hansel Schwein had a past.

It was not the kind of past one could be proud of; Hansel had done wrong too many times for that to be the case. But it was also not a terrible kind of past, not by the usual standards, at least.

If you looked at it Hansel had it all: a mansion in a safe town, far away from the shadow-infested cities, a private chef, a fancy car, a butler to wait on him, a chauffeur to drive him around, too many friends and too much money. They adored him at home, they adored him at school, and with both his parents out of town he was also allowed an unhealthy amount of freedom.

Everything a middle-schooler could dream of having, he had it all. And in the beginning he was happy, because that was as much he wanted.

Perhaps he could have stayed like that, a spoilt kid with people falling at his feet, wasting his life the way he wasted money, mucking around with friends, too naïve to know that those so-called friends were only sticking around because of his parents, because his father was the CEO of a conglomerate and his mother was big in the showbiz; because he threw extravagant parties at his mansion and made them feel like they were rich too; because he made stupid kids like them feel all smart and cool and grown-up.

He could have stayed like that if he hadn’t been so greedy, so jealous, so foolish. If he hadn’t gone and ruined it with his own hands.

What happened to him, his moral degradation, his loss of happiness and his eventual fall from grace, it was all his own doing.

All his own fault.

Two and a half years ago Hansel was sitting in a classroom in the woodsy town of Marsance, attending a double session of his least favourite subject. Mr. Karloff had his back turned to the class, scribbling algebraic expressions across the greenboard. It was the last period of the day and drowsiness hung over the classroom like an early morning fog, making most students in the classroom go cross-eyed in their endeavours to keep themselves awake.

In this sleep-saturated classroom, Hansel alone sat ramrod straight, his hands placed upon his desk neatly. His eyes followed the motion of Mr. Karloff’s chalk attentively, unblinking the entire time. If he turned around now, Hansel would give Mr. Karloff an impression of being a model student. At least, that was the point, because Hansel wasn’t paying attention to a word that was being taught. It was all show.

Hansel had a reason to fake attentiveness. Although most teachers at his school brown-nosed him and treated him like a precious little snowflake, a few of them regarded him with a certain amount of disdain. Mr. Karloff was one of those teachers. He seemed to harbour a specific sort of loathing for Hansel, especially after the ill-natured prank he had pulled on the math teacher with Baron Finley last year. He and Finley had gone and spread dung under his desk and stuck chewed gum to the seat of his chair.

Mr. Karloff had no fans in the school. The students lauded them as heroes for what they did.

It was certain that Mr. Karloff had not forgiven him yet. If he had he would not have given Hansel such horrible grades and trashed his entire image for his father during the only parent-teacher meeting his father had ever deigned to attend. His father had only told him two short sentences to him after the meeting. “I did not know my son was so classless and obnoxious. I am disappointed.”

That was the last time he saw his father. For whatever reason he did not pay Hansel another visit.

And hence Mr. Karloff was placed into the list of the people Hansel hated. Because he was the reason why Hansel’s father had a low opinion on him now; also, because Mr. Karloff hated him, and, naturally, Hansel too hated the people who hated him. Still, he needed to prove to Mr. Karloff that he was a good student now, that he had amended his ways. What if his father came back for another PTA meeting?

Hansel glanced up at the clock above the greenboard for the fifty thousandth time. Why couldn't...the needles move...any faster...

Inside his desk Hansel felt his phone vibrate once. He slid it out surreptitiously to check the screen. It was a message from Finley in the group chat of their clique.

Let’s bunk class.

And go where? Hansel texted back.

Shed.

Hansel pushed the phone back in when Mr. Karloff started to turn around. Mr. Karloff gave him a scorching look, and Hansel smiled back at him innocently.

Bunk class? Now?

Finley knew his class schedule. He knew Hansel had Karloff now. And he still wanted him to bunk class. Hansel knew why Finley was doing it. This was a test. Did Hansel Schwein have the courage to bunk class now? Is his coolness factor still intact? If Hansel failed he was going to look bad in front of the other boys. And the spotlight would go to Finley, as it has been going for a while lately.

Hansel didn’t want that.

He propped his chin on his hand. What excuse can he use to bunk class? Tell Mr. Karloff that he wanted to use the washroom? There was no way he was going to buy that. What else could he try?

Right then Mr. Karloff asked them to write down a question into their notebooks. Hansel picked up his pen while the rest of the class groaned awake. Then he became aware of Haley—not that he knew her name back then.

It was when the cap of a pen flew at him from the side and bounced off his chest, plopping onto his notebook. He first noticed the blue splotches of ink all over him, spotting his white shirt and the back of his arm like painted stars. He was certain some of the ink had spattered across his face as well; he could taste a drop of it on his lips.

Immediately, his eyes skipped to the girl sitting at the desk to his side, then they dropped to the capless ball-pointer held awkwardly in her hands, leaking indigo. Ink was everywhere, coating the girl's hands, on her clothes, on her books and on the floor between her and Hansel's desks. It looked like the pen had imploded on itself.

"I'm so sorry," the girl whispered to him, barely meeting his eyes. "It was an accident."

Hansel felt irritated. Who was that girl? His shirt was a gift from his mother and this dimwit girl had gone and splashed ink on it. Hansel picked up her pen’s cap from his desk and flung it back at her grouchily.

"Hansel Schwein, what are you doing over there?" Mr. Karloff demanded snappishly.

Hansel pressed his lips together hard. Mr. Karloff never noticed the half a dozen actively sleeping students in his class, but if the rich and popular Hansel Schwein ever took one misstep—even if it was only breathing the wrong way—he'd be upon him in a heartbeat.

Mr. Karloff's words efficiently woke up the entire class. Everyone's eyes were now on Hansel, excited, waiting to see what he would do.

He collected his things from his desk calms. He'd just been given an excuse to leave this miserable classroom. He wasn't going to waste it. "I got some ink on me," he told Mr. Karloff, using a finger to point at his own face, which he hoped was appropriately ink-marked. "I'll be taking my leave."

"Sit down in your seat," ordered Mr. Karloff.

If Hansel decided to do something, he would do it. "Seriously, sir?" he said in his best victim-voice. "You know how they say ink from pens can cause cancer? I should be washing away the ink as soon as possible. You don't want to send a student of yours to his deathbed, do you?"

Mr. Karloff looked like the thought had indeed crossed his mind. Someone in the class snickered. Hansel felt duly encouraged.

He met Mr. Karloff's glower with a cool glance and walked out of the classroom with his things, relishing the looks of awe and admiration the rest of the class showered him with.

On his way out Hansel wondered if he should text Julian to come out too. Julian was in his friend circle, but he had exited himself from their group chat a long time ago saying he didn’t want to read their drivel all day. Hansel could DM him, asking for him to bunk class too. But Julian hated his other friends, he probably wouldn’t come.

Hansel walked out of the school building and went around the back. There was a small auditorium there, separate from the main building. It had been out of use ever since one side of the building collapsed after a giant ash tree fell on it. Students took over the building and converted it into a hideout of sorts, which they then nicknamed simply as ‘Shed’.

The inside of the shed had been refurbished by generations of students. Putting up misty bulbs and decorations and even bringing in mouldy furniture. There was even a time when there was an outmoded TV in there, which the upperclassmen had used to watch horror flicks until several years ago. The TV stopped working after someone threw a baseball bat at it.

But not every student had access to this building. Every year, the strongest gang in the school laid claim to the building. Nobody else was allowed in unless they had permission from one of the members. For the past two years, Shed had belonged to Hansel and his friends.

When he arrived Hansel found Finley seated inside already, rolling a red apple in his hands. On either side of him sat Matt and Gary, framed by a tapestry of shadow-themed paintings on the wall behind them. His eyes slid sideways and he startled a little when he saw Julian stretched upon a ping-pong table across the hall, sleeping with an open book covering his face.

“Did you call him here?” he asked Finley.

“Who? Angeles?” Finley asked. “He was already here when I came in.”

Ah, Julian did like his solitude.

“So why did you ask me to bunk class?” Hansel asked, sliding into a chair himself. Briefly his eyes landed on the old burn scar on the side of Finley’s neck and skimmed away.

“No reason. Just wanted to see if you would have the guts to sneak out of Karloff’s class.”

This prick.

Finley was definitely on Hansel’s hate list too, forget them being members of the same clique. Finley had a way of getting under Hansel’s skin in a way no one else could. But Hansel simply could not shut him out of his circle for that reason.

Finley came from a family of politicians—pretty much everyone in the official gang had parents who were rich or influential. His words had sway, and he was almost as popular as Hansel. If one considered his reckless audacity and vile charisma, he might even be the one who topped the coolness chart. If Hansel was king, Finley was very much the queen. Hansel could not push Finley to the mud and hope to leave unscathed. If they were going to get muddy, they were going to have to get muddy together.

A crispy scrape sounded in the tiny hall as Finley took a bite out of his apple. He looked at Julian’s sleeping figure and asked Hansel. “Why are you even friends with Angeles? He’s poor and he hates us. I would say we oust him from our group. He doesn’t even like hanging out with us.”

“Hush, Finley,” Gary said from his side. “What if Julian is awake? It would be bad if he heard us.”

“How so? What can he do even if he heard us? If he were actually awake he would be smart and keep pretending to be asleep.”

“Stop it,” Hansel snapped at them. “He’s my friend. I won’t have any of you badmouth him.”

To Hansel, Julian’s friendship and approval was more important than the entire school’s combined.

However, it had been so easy to win that friendship. In the beginning Julian didn’t want to do anything with Hansel. He was one of the very few students who did not care to fawn over Hansel at all. He kept to himself and minded his own business. He seemed different than the other kids, like he actually had a head over his shoulders, and Hansel wanted to be friends with him no matter what. He pursued Julian relentlessly, never once discouraged by his rudeness or cold attitude. At first, Julian wouldn’t even speak with him.

But one rainy day, after school, he was driving by in his car when Hansel saw Julian walking outside in the pouring rain. Julian had no umbrella with him and he was drenched in water from head to toe. The path he was taking was too narrow for Hansel’s car to pass through, so Hansel asked his chauffer to stop the car before he climbed out with his own umbrella.

Hansel raced toward him, boots sloshing, drops of rainwater catching on his lashes. He grabbed Julian’s shoulder from behind.

“Here, take the umbrella.”

There was genuine surprise on Julian’s face when he saw Hansel standing in the rain beside him. He looked at the umbrella Hansel was holding out for him to take, sticky brown hair hiding one of his eyes. He turned his face away. “I don’t need it.”

“Oh, come on, who are you acting so prissy for? You are so soaked you look like a wet dodo. If you are going to walk around in the rain like that you are going to catch a cold.”

Julian scowled at him. “I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity.”

“And I don’t believe you are the kind of person who would go around sharing goodwill.”

Julian was right. Hansel was not. The only reason Hansel had stopped to help was because he wanted to get on Julian’s good side.

“Hey, Angeles, hasn’t anyone taught you not to judge a book by its cover?”

Julian’s brow wrinkled, but he said nothing in reply.

“So, are you going to take the umbrella or not? You can return it to me tomorrow at school.”

Julian’s frown deepened. He glanced at Hansel. “Why didn’t you open the umbrella? You are getting wet too.”

Hansel realised this was true. He had been so preoccupied with catching Julian that he forgot to use the umbrella himself. He scratched at his neck awkwardly. “Uh, I didn’t notice.”

Julian snorted. Hansel looked up to find him smiling. The smile was teasing, but also very earnest. Julian held out his hand. “Give me the umbrella.”

Hansel obeyed.

“You know, you look like a wet stork,” said Julian, opening the umbrella over both of them.

“Ha-ha,” said Hansel.

“Come on, I will walk you back to your car.”

Hansel was shaken out of his memory by Finley calling his name.

“What did you say?” Hansel asked, shifting his focus to Finley, who had made it halfway through his apple. “I wasn’t listening.”

“I asked what happened to your shirt, your face too. You’re covered in ink.”

“Oh, that. I guess the girl sitting next to me had a leak in her pen.”

"The Welfare Girl?"

"Huh?" Hansel was confused.

"Haley Schaeffer. She's in the school's welfare programme. She sits next to you in class."

So that was her name. Haley Schaeffer

"So what did she say afterwards?"

"She said sorry."

"Just that?" asked Finley incredulous. "And you let her off? Man, isn't that shirt expensive? And that stain is never going to come out. Aren't you going to ask for compensation?"

"Should I?"

Finley shook his head. "What's gotten into you? I would have if it had happened to me."

The Matt and Gary murmured their assent.

“I can’t exactly ask her for compensation in the middle of the class,” said Hansel defensively.

“I suppose,” said Finley, although he had a mocking expression on his face.

Hansel felt an urge to slap it off for him.

Right then Julian woke up. He picked away the book on his face and sat up straight. He sized up the gathering before him for a few seconds and asked crankily. “What are you all doing here?”

“It’s morning, Julie,” said Finley with a raffish grin. “Rise and shine.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Julian snapped back at him.

“Sure, sure,” said Finley. “Typical Julie, always so grumpy.”

"Call me that one more time and—"

"You'll pluck out my tongue and feed it to the fish," completed Finley. "I know." He turned his attention back to Hansel. "By the way, Schwein, when are you going to get me that autograph from your mother? I have been asking since forever."

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on Hansel's head. He stiffened.

He hadn’t seen his mother in years. She was always busy, just like his father. Neither of his parents bothered to pay him a visit unless it was an emergency. Sometimes Hansel wondered if they even remembered they had a son.

Julian noticed Hansel's face falling—of course he did. He never missed anything. “Hey, Hansel, I’m heading out. You want to come with?”

Hansel looked at Finley, who raised one eyebrow. “No, I’m staying for a while longer.”

Julian looked slightly wounded. But then he shrugged and picked up his book. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

Without waiting around any longer he left out of a side door behind a stage screen.

Until the final bell rang Hansel and the other boys stayed inside the auditorium, eating chips and talking nonsense. Hansel was just planning to leave when the door Julian left through swung open again and a group of four girls walked in. Or at least three of them walked in, while the fourth was dragged in by her collar.

And when the three girls pushed the fourth against a wall Hansel realised it was Haley. He turned in his chair.

What was going on?

He didn’t know the names of the other girls, but he was certain none of them had noticed Hansel and the others where they sat. The girls seemed to be harassing Haley, asking her to buy something for them. And Haley was pleading back, that she did not have the money with her to buy them whatever it was that they wanted.

“Oooh, looks like fun,” commented Finley. He tapped on Hansel’s shoulder. “Wanna make it more fun?”

Hansel narrowed his eyes. What was Finley up to now?

“Isn’t that the girl who ruined your shirt?” he whispered. “Go ask her about it.”

“What’s the point?”

“Fun is the point,” said Finley. “And don’t just ask. Make her cry.”

Hansel pressed his lips together. “And what can I even gain from making her cry?”

“Hmmm…let’s see. If you can make her cry I will be your slave for three days straight. I will do whatever you ask me to.”

Hansel glanced at him sideways. It was indeed an appealing proposal.

“Are you sure you won’t regret making this offer?” Hansel asked shrewdly. He was slightly suspicious. No amount of boredom should be able to tempt Finley into making a proposition like that. There had to be something that Finley wasn’t telling.

“I definitely won’t,” said Finley. “Because I’m hundred percent certain you won’t be able to make her cry. You know what the other boys think about you? They think you are a soft boy. You just don’t have it in you to force anyone to tears. If you weren’t rich they think you would make a total pushover.”

Gary and Matt nodded along, playing the part of obsequious minions perfectly.

Annoyance spiked inside Hansel. So that was what the others thought about him. How could they? Did they think he was pushover? They didn’t know him at all.

He stood up from his chair. “Challenge accepted. Now shut up.”

“Look at that dress,” said a blonde-haired girl to Haley, snatching up her skirt. “Hey, Schaeffer, is your skirt made of tableclothe?”

Haley pulled her skirt back down hurriedly while the other girls sniggered. Haley’s head was bowed so low it looked like she wanted to disappear into her hoodiechaffer," said Hansel, stepping forth.

The girls who were badgering Haley backed away when they heard him, slightly startled by his sudden appearance. They sent curious glances in his direction, wondering what he wanted. They were the popular girls of his grade, he realised. If not, he could have asked them to scram.

Hansel waited for Haley to look up at him, then spoke in a cold, detached voice. "You haven't paid for my shirt."

Haley seemed to freeze up in his presence. Her eyes were open wide like a doe's, conveying her alarm. She stammered when she spoke. "I'm s-sorry. I c-can wash the shirt for you."

"You think that's how it works?" He was trying to sound intimidating, instead, his voice came out flat. "The stain is not going to come out. I will probably have to toss this shirt away. Do you have any idea how much it cost to buy it?"

Haley looked scared.

"You owe me 800. Pay me back at least half of it and I'll let you off the hook."

Her expression turned stricken.

Hansel felt a pang inside his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he was already doing it. And he wasn’t doing it right. Haley looked too shaken for tears. He had failed.

Finley let out a delighted laugh, appearing beside Hansel. "Better hurry up with the payment, girl. You don't want your life to get difficult, do you?"

“That’s right,” said the blonde. "Don't you get to attend this school for free, Welfare Girl? We are the ones paying for your education. How dare you disrespect your benefactors? You have no excuse for not compensating Hansel for his shirt."

Stop butting into my business, Hansel wanted to tell them. Instead, he kept quiet. He turned his gaze on Haley. “So are you going to pay me back or not?”

“I’ll pay you back,” she said hurriedly.

“Good,” said Hansel. “Now leave.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Haley hastened out of the building. After a while the other girls followed, and Hansel found himself alone with the boys again.

“You didn’t make her cry,” said Finley.

“Well, aren’t you glad,” said Hansel.

Finley grinned smugly. “You bet.”

The next time Hansel saw Haley was during the weekend. He was sitting in a restaurant in downtown Marsance, nibbling on a bowl of fries when Haley walked in a door with an older woman. The woman was only slightly taller than Haley. She had a kind face and a pleasant smile. Judging from their matching features Hansel guessed she was Haley’s mother.

They picked a booth and sat down, neither of them noticing Hansel sitting a few rows down. From there he watched them.

Haley had a pale face strewn with freckles and wore faded clothes laundered too many times. Her flaxen hair hung about her face in an unflattering disorganisation. She was sitting at the very edge of her seat, tense, like she thought she wasn't supposed to be there. Her mother on the other hand looked more at ease. She was looking at Haley with an expression that seemed to say that her daughter was the most precious thing in the world. Her pride and joy.

Hansel felt a sharp twinge in his chest.

A waitress brought a plateful of fried chicken to Haley's table. Hansel saw her lift her face to give her mother a look that was a battle of disbelief, love and gratitude all at once. Her words were whispered, too quiet to be heard across the booths, but Hansel still managed to read her lips. "Mom, you didn't have to. What about the money?"

The woman smiled warmly. She reached over the table and ruffled the girl's hair, messing it up even more. "Forget about money, sweetmeat. You deserve to be given a treat once in a while. Won't you let me do this for you?"

The girl pursed her lips, but she looked really happy.

Hansel averted his eyes then. He was hurt, but he couldn't understand why. Why did the memory of the woman caressing the girl's hair bother him so much? Why did he hate to see them smiling at each other with so much fondness?

What was wrong with him?

Suddenly, he did not want to stay there any longer. He was no longer hungry. He pushed his bowl of fries away and got up. Haley was so engrossed in a conversation with her mother that she did not notice him standing up. Quietly, he paid his bills and walked out of the restaurant.

He did it while he was leaving, without even giving Haley one last glance.

For no apparent reason he put her name in the list of people he hated.