Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: “The First Step”
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Morty Smith is in his room fidgeting and examining the Time travel gadget that Evil Morty stole from the confiscated items from the Time police before he fully escaped. Morty, according to Evil Morty, is the only one who could do this mission because of the sole fact that Morty is from the same universe as Rick prime. Morty agrees but only because he could prevent Rick prime from killing Rick C-137’s diane and beth so Rick C-137 can live a happy and normal life, as well as all the other Ricks.
Morty trusts Evil morty to pretend to be him so Rick C-137 wouldn’t suspect him being missing within the time that hes in the past, eventually figuring out the plan and force him back while lecturing Morty how time travel must never be done.
“What time do I even go to prevent Rick Prime from doing harm…?” Morty nervously asks for the 5th time again
Evil Morty signs as he rubs his temples “When Rick Prime was a baby, Surely you wont have difficulty killing a mere infant let alone a toddler right?”
“I dont want to kill a baby…n-nor a small child… maybe 25 years old? No he can easily overpower me… 18…? You know what, Let’s go with 15… o-or 14, yeah thats better right…?”
Morty inputs the timeline he wants to travel to in the time gadget.
1957
Evil Morty almost regrets having Morty do this task, but it’s inevitable considering that Morty is the only person who could do this. Unfortunately.
Evil Morty passes a bottle of unlabeled pills to Morty
“Here. Take this before you use the Time Travel gadget. It helps conceal the trace of you travelling timelines so the Time police wont interrupt this mission."
Morty glances at the small bottle of the unlabelled pills and nods, after swallowing a pill, he presses the bright red button on the time gadget. Evil morty gave him a short salute before the Time gadget whirs.
Morty’s vision flashes bright white, blinding him temporarily before opening his eyes again and finds that he is infront of a High school.
He did it.
The time travel gadget took him back to 1957 in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
“Ohohoho! Fuck yes!! I-I did it! Ahem… N-Now all I have to do is kill Rick Prime…”
He recalls the plan
“On second thought… Maybe pursuing and leading him into a different path would work??...yeah…Definantly…”
Morty approaches the university in front of him, Roosevelt High School, surprised that Rick Prime even went to a school in the first place, a public school at that.
He wanders around the school’s halls before he hears someone calling him from behind. It’s a female teacher heading towards him. Gray skirt, yellow cardigan, a pair of glasses hung from a chain around her neck and a nameplate that reads Mrs. Perez.
“You! Young man!”
She stops in front of him
“what are you doing out of class?”
Morty stumbles to come up for an excuse, it comes out rather clumsily.
“I-i uhm- i-im…new! A M-mid-year transfer…”
Mrs Perez scans him for a short while. Morty hopes she buys the poor excuse. She sighs and gestures him to follow her
“Come with me, Transfer students report to the office first, not wander the halls.”
Morty followed her down the corridor, past classrooms where the teacher's voices could be heard through open and closed doors. At the main office Mrs. Perez knocked and pushed the door open and began to speak to the secretary behind the counter.
“Evening, Found this one in the halls wandering about. Says he’s a mid-year transfer.”
The secretary, a middle aged woman with tightly curled hair, Ms. Young, looked up as she looks past Mrs. Perez and at Morty.
She gestures Morty to approach
“Name?”
“M-Mortimer Chauncey Smith…”
Not an unusual name for a supposed child in 1957 right?
Ms. Young however, doesn't seem to be bothered
“Do you have your papers? Transcript? Withdrawal forms?”
shit…
Morty gets nervous knowing he doesn’t have those, He attempts to improvise like how Rick C-137 would nag occasionally.
“The papers…T-they’re….coming. My parents are still setting things…” he nervously says, enough to pass as new environment nervousness.
Ms. Young gave a short, practical sigh that implies she has heard every excuse before.
“Have a seat. I’ll get Mr. Sinclair.”
A few minutes later the principal steps out of his office. Mr. Arthur (Art) Sinclair was a solid man in his fifties with thinning hair and a quiet, no-nonsense face.
“Have a seat son. Mortimer Smith, is it? Where from?”
“F-from uh…up North” a vague response as he takes a seat. But its enough “My family moved for work…”
“And no records with you?”
“They’re being sent at the moment.”
Morty fidgets with his fingers under the table hoping this’ll be enough to get in the school and continue with his mission. Mr. Sinclair tapped a pencil once against the desk.
“We’ll place you provisionally. The Counselor will build a proper schedule once the papers arrive. For today you’ll start in third-period English, Mrs. Callahan’s room, after that we’ll sort out the rest.”
Mr. Art writes something on a slip of paper, then called the secretary.
“Dorothy, have someone walk him to 214.”
A junior girl from the office aide program appeared a minute later. She gave Morty a quick, curious glance then walked him to room 214. When they reached room 214, the junior knocked once and handed the teacher the note. Mrs. Callahan pulled back, read it, then looked at morty. He gives her a little shy wave.
“Class, we have a new student. Mortimer Smith, transferring in. There’s an empty seat in the second row.”
Twenty-odd pairs of eyes turned toward him. Most only looked for a second since mid-transfers weren’t rare. In the back corner, A boy with oddly unique bright teal-ish hair, glanced for half a second longer than the others, then looked back down at the opened book in front of him as if the interruption had already bored him
As Morty walked to the empty desk, he noticed the boy’s glance, there his target was, Rick Prime, but in his teenage years. Morty sat down and kept his eyes forward. His hands were slightly unsteady. Teen Rick Prime didn’t look at him again for the rest of the period.
“There he is! Rick prime… “
Morty thought to himself, glancing at Teen Rick Prime subtly.
The rest of English dragged, Mrs. Callahan talked about sentence structure and assigned a short reading from a thick literature book. Morty tried to follow along, but the words kept sliding past him. Every so often he risked a glance towards Teen Rick Prime.
Teen Prime Hadn’t looked up again. The sat the same way the whole time, turning pages in his book only when he felt like it. When Mrs. Callahan asked a question, most students straightened a little, Rick Prime didnt. He just kept his eyes on the book, expression blank and unreadable, like the whole class was background noise.
The bell rang, loud and metallic across the halls.
Chairs scraped. Kids stood fast, talking over each other.
Morty stayed seated for a second longer, unsure what to do with the schedule slip still in his hand. The office had only given him one class for now.
Teen Rick Prime stood slowly, shoved the literature book under his arm and walked out without speaking to anyone. Moved like he has all the time in the world. Morty hesitated, then followed him from a distance, just far enough not to look like he was chasing him. The hallway filled with noise, lockers slamming, people laughing too loud, a teacher calling for quiet. Morty kept Teen Prime in sight as Teen Rick Prime turned the corner and headed down a quieter side hall.
Teen Prime stopped at locker, spun the dial, and opened one. Inside were a few books stacked neatly and a small portable music player, the kind with a leather case and carrying strap along with wired headphones. He didn’t take it out though, he just looked at it for a moment then shut the locker again. Morty hovered a few lockers away, pretending to check the number on his schedule slip even though it only had one class written on it.
Teen Rick Prime noticed him this time. He didnt jump or look startled. He just turned his head slightly and gave Morty the same flat, uninterested glance from earlier.
After a moment's consideration he spoke
“You lost?” Teen Rick Prime asked. His voice quiet, almost bored.
Morty’s mouth went dry at the sudden interaction
“Uh…k-kind of? They only gave me one class so far. Said the rest comes later”
he smiles nervously at Teen Rick Prime, hoping he won't simply dismiss him
“Office does that with transfers. They’ll drag it out.”
He started walking again, not waiting to see if Morty followed.
“Third period’s over. Next is lunch if you’re on the regular schedule.” Teen Prime said in his usual uninterested tone
Morty fell into step beside him before he could overthink it.
The height difference being more noticeable now, Rick being the taller one at 6’3” meanwhile Morty is 5’3”
‘“What the fuck has this guy been eating…???”’ Morty couldn’t help but exclaim in his thoughts.
“D-Do you know the way?” He asks trying to keep up
“Yeah.” A short, bored response by Teen Rick Prime but Morty doesn't care.
They walked without talking for a stretch. The noise of the main hallway faded behind them. Teen Rick Prime didn’t ask where Morty was from or why he’d transferred. He didn’t fill the silence with anything. He just moved at that same unhurried pace, like none of it mattered much.
At the double doors that led toward the cafeteria, Teen Prime finally spoke again.
“You always this quiet, or just today?”
He asked not from curiosity, but from understanding that regular people would feel awkward in a silent setting.
Morty almost smiled from pure nerves.
“J-just today. I think…”
Teen Rick Prime gave a small hum that could’ve meant anything, then he pushed the door open with his shoulder. The smell of institutional food and milk cartons rolled out. Teen Rick Prime didn’t tell Morty to follow him to a table. He didn’t tell him to go away either. He just walked in and headed for a spot near the far wall where fewer people sat.
Morty took it upon himself and took the silent invitation and stayed with him. He's always been good at reading Rick’s habits, well, Rick C-137’s habits.
Teen Rick Prime walked straight toward a table near the far wall where only two other students sat at the opposite end. He dropped into a seat, set his book down, and pulled a plain paper bag from his jacket pocket.
Morty hesitated only for a second before sitting across from him. Teen Rick Prime looked at him for a moment, then unwrapped a sandwich without comment.
Morty clears his throat trying to strike up a conversation so he can eventually know what made Rick Prime the way he is.
“So… you always eat over here?”
“Yeah.” He replied flatly “It’s quieter”. He takes a bite of his sandwich
Morty tried again after getting a dry reply
“I-I’m still waiting on the rest of my schedule. They said the counselor’s going to finish it later. Kind of nervous about the other classes…”
Teen Rick Prime chewed, swallowed, and glanced at him
“You’ll live.”
Silence stretched. Morty picked at the edge of the table.
“What uhm, What kind of music do you like?” Morty asked suddenly
Teen Rick Prime’s eyes flicked up at the sudden question
“Why?”
“I saw the music player in your locker. J-just wondering.”
Teen Prime was quiet for a few seconds
“Doesn’t matter. Most of it is just noise placed and timed selectively to create an actual listenable soundwave enjoyable to the human brain.”
“But you listen e-either way?”
“Sometimes.” He took another bite, slower this time.
“You always ask this many questions?”
Morty gave a small awkward smile
“I guess I’m just…trying to talk?”
“I noticed.”
Another stretch of silence. Teen Rick Prime finished half his sandwich and folded the paper down. He didn’t look particularly angry, just faintly tired of the conversation.
Morty leaned forward a little
“Do you like it here? The school, I mean.”
Teen Rick Prime finally met Morty’s eyes fully. His expression stayed flat though
“It’s a monotonous factory that rewards mindless conformity and basic memorization rather than actual, practical intelligence or critical thinking.”
Teen Prime states in a flat tone.
“It’s also a building with fluorescent lights with people who talk too much, that’s all.”
He paused then added
“Including right now.”
The words weren’t sharp, but they landed. Morty sat back slightly, cheeks warming.
“Sorry…”
He said almost apologetically
“I don’t really know anyone here yet”
Teen Rick Prime looked at him for a moment. Something unreadable passed behind his eyes, then disappeared.
“Yeah,” he said eventually, “I can tell.”
He stood up, gathering his book and the rest of his lunch.
“Bell’s gonna ring soon. You should figure out where you’re supposed to be next.”
Morty stood up too, almost automatically.
“Can I walk with you..?”
Teen Rick Prime stopped. He turned his head just enough to look at Morty over his shoulder. For the first time, a clear edge of irritation showed in his face.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He said quietly.
He didn’t say yes. He also didn’t tell Morty to get lost. He just started walking towards the exit with the same unhurried pace as before. Morty took it upon himself to assume he could follow him, so he did.
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The hallway outside the cafeteria was already filling up again. Kids streamed in both directions, voices bouncing off the lockers. Teen Prime walked with the same unhurried stride as before, easily a full head taller than most of the students around him. At 6’3”, he made the crowd look smaller. Morty, at 5’3”, had to pick up his pace just to stay close without jogging.
They didn’t speak for most of the walk.
Teen Prime turned down a side corridor and stopped in front of a classroom door near the end. The small window in the door showed rows of desks already half-filled. A handwritten card taped beside the frame read “Algebra I – Mr. Lang.”
Teen Prime pushed the door open and went in without looking back.
Morty hesitated in the doorway. He still only had the one class written on his temporary slip from the office. For a second he considered turning around and going back to the main office, but the thought of sitting alone in the hallway felt worse. He stepped inside.
Mr. Lang, a thin man with a precise part in his hair, looked up from his desk. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a new transfer,” he said. “Morty Smith... They haven’t finished my schedule yet.”
Mr. Lang glanced at the clock, then at the note Morty held out.
Mr. Lang “Take a-a seat for today. Anywhere open.”
Most of the open seats were near the front. The only empty desk toward the back was two seats away from where Teen Prime had already sat down, long legs stretched out into the aisle, chair tipped back on two legs. Teen Prime didn’t look over when Morty sat down.
The bell rang. Mr. Lang started writing problems on the board.
Morty tried to copy them down, but his attention kept drifting. Every so often he glanced sideways. Teen Prime had a notebook open, but he wasn’t writing. He was just sitting there, eyes half-lidded, looking more like he was waiting for the period to end than paying attention.
After about ten minutes, Morty leaned over slightly and whispered,
“Do you understand this stuff?”
Teen Prime’s eyes shifted toward him, slow and flat. He didn’t whisper back right away. When he did, his voice was low enough that only Morty could hear.
“It’s basic.”
“Oh.” Morty hesitated. “I kind of got lost after the second problem.”
Teen Prime looked at him for a second longer, then turned his eyes back to the board. He didn’t offer help. He didn’t tell Morty to stop talking either. He just let the silence sit there.
A few minutes later Morty tried again, softer.
“Do you have this class every day?”
Teen Prime’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“You really don’t stop, huh?” he muttered.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even particularly mean. But the mild irritation in it was clear. He shifted in his seat, tipping the chair forward so all four legs touched the ground, and angled his shoulders a little farther away from Morty.
Morty sat back, cheeks warm, and forced himself to face forward.
For the rest of the period, Teen Prime didn’t look at him again.
When the bell finally rang, Teen Prime stood up in one smooth motion, collected his book, and headed for the door. He didn’t wait. He didn’t glance back to see if Morty was following. Morty still did.
Teen Prime stepped into the hallway and immediately turned left, long strides eating up the distance. At 6’3” he moved through the crowd like it was barely there. Morty had to nearly trot to keep up, weaving between slower students, the temporary schedule slip still crumpled in his hand.
They passed two classrooms. Then a third. Teen Prime didn’t look back once.
When Teen Prime reached his locker he spun the combination with quick, precise movements, yanked the door open, and shoved his algebra book inside hard enough that it hit the back wall with a dull thud. The little portable music player sat on the top shelf. He left it there.
Morty stopped a few feet away, breathing a little faster from the pace.
Teen Prime shut the locker, then finally turned. His expression was no longer just flat. There was a clear edge of irritation in his eyes now, cold and tired.
“What are you doing?”
Morty blinked. “I… I don’t know where my next class is. They still haven’t given me the rest of the schedule.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Teen Prime’s voice stayed quiet, but it had lost the earlier boredom. “You’ve been behind me since lunch. Like a lost dog.”
The words landed heavier than if he had raised his voice. A couple of students passing by glanced over, then kept walking.
Morty’s face heated. “I just thought—”
“You thought what?” Teen Prime cut in, not loudly, but sharp enough. “That I’d show you around? That we’re friends now because you sat across from me for twenty minutes?”
He took a step closer. The height difference felt sudden and stark. Morty had to tip his head back to meet his eyes.
“I don’t know you,” Teen Prime said. “You don’t know me. So stop following me.”
For a second neither of them moved. The hallway noise continued around them. Lockers slamming, someone laughing, a teacher’s voice calling for a student. But it felt distant.
Morty opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know anyone else yet.”
Teen Prime stared at him. Something unreadable flickered across his face, then vanished. He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, like he was deliberately not raising his voice.
“That’s not my problem,” he said finally. He stepped around Morty and started walking again, same unhurried pace as before, but there was a new stiffness in his shoulders.
This time, when Morty took a step to follow, Teen Prime spoke without looking back.
“I mean it.” He kept walking.
Morty stood there in the middle of the hallway, the crumpled schedule slip damp in his palm, watching the much taller boy disappear around the corner.
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A huge while later, the final bell rang just after three.
Morty waited until most of the classroom had emptied before he stood up. His temporary schedule slip was soft and wrinkled from being folded and unfolded all day. He still only had one class on it. The office had told him to come back tomorrow morning with the papers for the rest.
He stepped into the hallway and let the current of students carry him toward the front of the building. Lockers slammed. Someone shouted a name. A teacher reminded a group of boys to walk, not run. Morty barely heard any of it.
‘“What am I even doing?”’
The thought sat heavy in his chest. He had traveled decades for this. He had one job. Get close to Teenage Rick Prime and keep him from becoming the person the whole multiverse is scared of. And so far all he had managed to do was irritate him enough to get told off in the middle of a crowded hallway.
‘“He looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was annoying background noise.”’
Morty’s hands curled into fists inside his pockets. He was too short to see over most of the students ahead of him. Too quiet to push through. He just drifted with the crowd until the main doors opened and the cooler afternoon air hit his face.
Outside, kids streamed down the front steps and toward the open gates. Some peeled off in groups, already laughing, already talking about the weekend even though it was only Monday. Others walked alone with their heads down. Morty followed the flow through the gates and onto the sidewalk, the brick school building rising behind him.
‘“How am I supposed to do this if he won’t even let me walk next to him?”’
‘“I can’t force him. I can’t make him talk to me. And I can’t just kill him. I won’t.”’
He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and rubbed his face with both hands, suddenly exhausted. The jump, the lying, the constant low-level panic of being in the wrong year, it all sat on him at once.
A few more students brushed past him on their way out. No one paid him any attention.
Across the street, half-hidden by the low branches of a tree near the corner, Teen Prime stood with his hands in his jacket pockets. He hadn’t gone home yet. He watched Morty standing alone by the gates, shoulders tight, head down. His expression was unreadable. After a long moment he shifted his weight, still looking in Morty’s direction thoughtfully, and made no move to leave.
Morty stayed on the sidewalk a little longer, watching the last groups of students drift away from the gates. The brick school looked ordinary in the afternoon light. Ordinary and completely indifferent to how badly the day had gone.
“I can’t keep doing this today.”
He turned away from the building and started walking, not toward the main streets but down a quieter side block lined with older houses and thick trees. He needed somewhere no one would see him. After a few minutes he found a narrow gap between a wooden garage and a high hedge, half-hidden from the sidewalk. A rusted chain-link fence closed off the back. It wasn’t perfect, but it was empty and out of direct view.
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Morty slipped into the space and crouched down, back against the rough wood of the garage. His hands were still a little shaky. He pulled the time gadget from the inner pocket of his jacket. The small device felt heavier than it should have. He stared at it for a second, thumb resting on the activation switch.
“Tomorrow,” he told himself. “I’ll try again tomorrow. Just… not right now.”
He closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and pressed the switch.
The world folded.
When the sensation cleared, Morty was back in the familiar dim light of his own room in the original timeline. The air smelled like laundry detergent and the faint metallic tang of the apartment’s old heating system. He stayed on his knees for a moment, waiting for the residual nausea to pass.
A soft click came from the desk chair.
Evil Morty sat there, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, a book open in his lap. Same face, same height as Morty, but the posture was completely different, upright, controlled, still. He looked up from the page with calm, assessing eyes.
“You’re early,” Evil Morty said. His voice was quiet and even. “I calculated you’d push through at least another two hours.”
Morty sat back on his heels and rubbed his face. “He told me t-t stop following him… Called me a lost dog.”
Evil Morty's expression didn’t change much, but something small shifted behind his eyes. He closed the book with care and set it on the desk.
“And you listened?” Evil Morty said as his gaze shifted from the book to Morty
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Morty stood up, legs stiff.
“He’s… worse than the one in this timeline. He doesn’t care about anything. I can’t even get near him without pissing him off.”
Evil Morty watched him for a long moment. The resemblance between Evil Morty and Morty was perfect, but the difference in presence was sharp. Evil Morty felt older somehow despite being the same in age, colder, more contained. Still, when he spoke again his tone was lower.
“You’re tired. Shower. Eat something. Sleep.” Evil Morty paused, then added, quieter, “I’ll keep the cover intact. No one noticed. Not even your Rick. ahem… C-137.”
Morty nodded, already heading toward the bathroom. He didn’t see the way Evil Morty’s gaze stayed on him a second longer than necessary, something careful and unspoken held tightly behind the usual distance.
The door clicked shut.
Evil Morty remained still in the chair, fingers resting lightly on the cover of the closed book, and listened to the sound of water starting in the other room.
The next day, as Morty was about to go back to 1957 to try again, Evil Morty stops him before he could.
“Oh before you go, here catch” Evil Morty throws a folder over to Morty
Morty catches the folder and opens it as he looks at the papers inside “These are-“
“Your transcripts, educational history, withdrawal- and basically all the things you need.”
“A-All of these are dated as if I was in 1957..!” Morty exclaims as he flips through the pages
“Yeah, I forged them myself. Oh another thing” Evil Morty tosses a rectangular foldable wallet to Morty
Morty fumbled to catch it “A…wallet? “
“not just a wallet, its a space holder. Got infinite space inside there, I stacked it up with tons of cash. Enough for you to get by for a longgg time” Evil Morty pats his hands proudfully.
“Aw geez, I-i appreciate it Evil Morty but I don't see why you’d give me this? I mean it's cool and all, not saying you should take it back! J-Just saying yk?” Morty says like he isn’t imagining what he could do with all this money at the moment.
“Well Morty. Its to cover for your tuition in Roosevelt High School, as well as Dormitory expenses, living expenses and whatever you want to spend it on.” Evil Morty lists
Morty freezes as he looks up at Evil Morty “wait wait-“ D-dormatory expenses?” Why do I need a dorm when I can just come back here in my room…? anytime I want?”
Evil Morty closed the book and looked at him.
“You’re treating this like a series of day trips. It’s not.”
Morty frowned. “What do you mean? I’ve been going back and forth just fine.”
“Short jumps are fine for looking around,” Evil Morty said. “They don’t leave much of a mark. But if you actually want to change Rick Prime, not just annoy him for a few hours…you have to stay. Real change needs time. Presence. Repeated contact. If you keep popping in and out, most of what you do won’t stick. The timeline has a way of smoothing over temporary noise.”
Morty stared at him. “So you’re saying I have to… live there?”
“Yes.” Evil Morty’s voice stayed even. “Stay in 1957 until the job is done. The more you jump back and forth, the more unstable your changes become, and the more likely the Time Police are to notice the flickering. One clean departure is harder to track than constant traffic.”
He paused, then added, “I’ll cover for you here. But you need to commit. No more running home every time it gets uncomfortable.”
Morty opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “For how long?”
Evil Morty met his eyes.
“As long as it takes.”
Evil Morty held his gaze for another second, then straightened.
“You already have the forged records and the wallet. Use them. Get a real schedule. Get a dorm to stay in. Stop treating this like a field trip or one of your and Rick's adventures.”
Morty looked down at the folder in his hands. His stomach felt tight.
“What if I can’t do it?” he asked quietly. “What if he never lets me near him?”
Evil Morty’s expression didn’t soften, but his voice dropped a fraction.
“Then you adapt. Or you fail. Those are the options.”
He stepped back and picked up the time gadget from the desk, checking it once before holding it out.
“You’ve already wasted one day. Don’t waste another.”
Morty hesitated, then took the device. It felt heavier than before.
“I’ll… try,” he muttered.
“Don’t try. Stay.” Evil Morty turned back toward the chair. “And Morty.”
Morty glanced up.
Evil Morty’s eyes were calm, unreadable. “If it becomes clear that friendship won’t work… you already know the faster method.”
Morty clenched his jaw. “I’m not killing him.”
Evil Morty gave a small, almost indifferent shrug.
“Then you’d better get better at being persistent.” He sat down again and reopened his book.
“Go.”
Morty stared at him for another moment, then looked at the gadget in his hand. His thumb hovered over the switch. Part of him wanted to argue more. Most of him knew it wouldn’t change anything.
He took a breath, closed his eyes, and pressed the button.
The room folded inward.
When the light cleared, Morty was standing on the same quiet side street as the day before, the folder tucked under one arm and the wallet heavy in his jacket pocket. The afternoon air of 1957 settled around him. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell was ringing.
He adjusted his grip on the folder, steeled himself, and started walking toward Roosevelt High School.
This time, he wasn’t going home at the end of the day.
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END OF CHAPTER 1
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