"Hi.

  I'm Elaijah.

  This is the story of my teenage years...

  And, to be honest, it was anything but easy.

  I'm 17 years old and in my second year of high school. I study at Santa Clara Public School.

  Right now, I'm walking home alone after being kicked out of class — again — for sleeping. I always doze off in Professor Francisco's class, but today he didn't let it slide. He threw me out like I was a criminal.

  'What an exaggerated guy...' I muttered, kicking a stone on the way.

  I can't go home yet... If my parents find out, they'll give me a huge scolding.

  I think I'll stay here for a bit, under this tree. A quiet place. I take a cigarette out of my pocket, light it, and take a deep breath. The silence calms me down... but not for long.

  'Hey, look over there, guys! It's Elaijah... he's smoking!' someone shouted behind me.

  I turned my face, already recognizing the voices.

  'Damn it...' I whispered. 'My former classmates.'

  One of them approached with that fake little smile.

  'Shouldn't you be in class right now?'

  'Look who's talking...' I replied quietly, without looking at them.

  'What did you say?' the other retorted, making the group laugh.

  'Keep going like that and you'll repeat the year again, dummy,' said the third, laughing as they walked away.

  I waited for them to disappear from sight before muttering:

  'Bunch of idiots... Everyone knows you guys bribed the teachers.'

  I sighed and flicked the cigarette butt away.

  'I guess it's time to go home...'

  I remembered that I had bought a new game, and that brought a small smile to my face.

  Maybe it was the only good thing about my day.

  I like to think that I can be happy alone. I'm not antisocial... I have friends. Few, but I have them.

  I live in the Kilamba Centrality. The school isn't very far.

  I go up to the 12th floor, where my apartment is.

  'Good morning, Mr. Bernardo,' I greeted as I passed the doorman.

  He looked at me with that suspicious look he always had.

  'Smells like cigarettes, huh...'

  'Ah... It's just that... the professor was smoking near me,' I replied stammering, trying to sound convincing.

  Blatant lie.

  I quickly got into the elevator, praying he wouldn't tell my parents anything.

  'Damn, I forgot to chew gum...' I muttered.

  If my mom smells it, I'm dead.

  The elevator reached the 12th floor. Even before getting out, I could already hear shouting in the hallway.

  I already knew where it was coming from.

  I reached the door of my house. I sighed.

  'Just another day...'

  I opened the door. The scene was the usual. My parents arguing loudly, my 7-year-old brother crying in a corner of the living room, sitting on a chair. My older sister hadn't arrived from college yet.

  'Stop it!' I tried to intervene, but they didn't even hear me.

  The fight only got worse, until...

  SMACK.

  My father slapped my mother. She fell to the floor, crying.

  Without thinking, I stepped in between them.

  'Stop it!' I shouted, trying to hold him back.

  And then...

  WHAM!

  The punch landed directly on my right eye. I staggered.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  'STOP IT, MALCOM!' my mother screamed, desperate.

  'This family is a mess... It would have been better not to have had children!' he shouted, his voice slurred and his eyes red with anger.

  My brother remained in the corner, crying softly.

  Without saying anything else, my father grabbed his hat and slammed the door as he left.

  My mother approached me, still with tears in her eyes.

  'Are you okay, son?'

  'Yeah, Mom... Just a little dizzy. I think I'll go get some sleep...'

  Perfect! Here is the revised version with more details, developed dialogues, and a more fluid rhythm. I expanded Arnaldo's speech, the tension between Viviane and Elaijah, and the school environment to make everything more vivid and engaging:

  Chapter - The Student Council

  I was playing games, as I always did on long, hot afternoons, immersed in a world where I had control, unlike my real life. I didn't even notice when my eyes started to droop, my head fell to the side, and everything went black.

  I woke up to a silent house, the sky already dark behind the tattered curtains of my room. I got up slowly, my body aching from bad sleep and my face… my face hurt. I brought my hand to my eye and felt the swelling.

  "It's purple," said Elias, my seven-year-old brother, with that childlike voice that can't hide worry. "Mommy said you should put ice on it."

  "I'm fine…" I mumbled, trying to sound firm.

  I went to the living room. Mom was serving dinner. I sat at the table. My sister, three years older, was in the corner, fiddling with her phone as if nothing had happened. Just like she always did.

  Actually, this… this was normal. Once a month, sometimes even more. We had all learned to pretend it was nothing. To pretend that bruises on our bodies were coincidences. And then we ate dinner. As if it were just another Tuesday.

  The next day, I got ready for school. The still-purple eye stared back at me in the mirror like a freshly opened wound.

  "Damn it…" I grumbled. "I need to think of an excuse."

  I grabbed my Nikes, stuffing my cell phone into my pants pocket. The white smock, that damn public school uniform that looked more like a hospital gown, I only put on when I reached the gate. I didn't like looking like a clone of the others on the way.

  On the way, I avoided looking people in the eye. When I arrived at the gate, I put on the smock and went in. My former classmates were upstairs, laughing, whispering. I knew it was about me. The one who had to repeat the year. The only one from the old class who didn't pass. Maybe not even behind my back.

  I walked into the classroom and went straight to my place: the last row, in the back. It was the best place for someone who didn't want to be seen sleeping during class, until she came to me...

  I wasn't very social in class, so no one came to ask me anything about my face — they just kept to themselves.

  The teacher came in, started giving the lesson. I didn't even notice what he was saying — until the door opened again. It was the principal.

  "Class, this is Viviane. She transferred from another school two weeks ago and was in the next room. But due to lack of space, she'll be with you now."

  I straightened up. "Viviane, interesting name," I thought. She was short, pink glasses, curly hair. Cute, but with an expression like she was always frowning.

  What caught my attention, however, was something else.

  "And what's with that cane?" I asked, without realizing I spoke aloud.

  The whole class laughed. Those laughs that make you feel small.

  Viviane looked in my direction. Her face was red, with anger or embarrassment, maybe both.

  "Your grandmother gave it to me," she replied in a sarcastic tone. But she had a serious expression, clearly not amused by the joke.

  "Enough!" said the teacher, sternly. "Silence. Especially you, Elaijah."

  The principal looked around.

  "You can sit… there, next to Elaijah," she pointed to the empty chair next to me.

  "Of course it would be here," I thought.

  Viviane walked towards me with short, sharp steps. She sat down without looking at me.

  "Don't even think we're going to become friends," she whispered, still angry.

  "Relax, shorty, I have refined taste," I replied in a mocking tone.

  She huffed. "Arrogant."

  "Grumpy."

  "Idiot."

  The class continued, but the atmosphere between us had already been set.

  When the bell rang for break, she left quickly. Didn't even look at me. I figured she had gone to the cafeteria. I already had my snack: a bag of chips and a lemon soda, my classic.

  That's when Arnaldo appeared, out of breath.

  "Hey, Elaijah! Let's go to the meeting."

  "What meeting?" I asked, biting into a chip, with zero desire to be bothered.

  Arnaldo had been my friend since we were kids. We played PlayStation, traded stickers, talked about life… And now, for some obscure reason, he was the president of the student council.

  "The council meeting! You said you'd join, remember?"

  "Me? When?"

  "On Saturday, at the soccer game! We bet that if I scored more goals, you'd join the student council — and you lost."

  "I thought it was just a joke!"

  "It's not a joke, man. Now let's go."

  "I'm a busy guy, you know…"

  "Busy?" Arnaldo laughed. "Busy with what? Sleeping in class?"

  Before I could react, he pulled me by the arm.

  "Wait! I haven't even put away my snack!"

  But he dragged me to the student council room.

  The room was on the second floor, next to the computer lab.

  It looked abandoned. There were only seven students, counting us. It was strange to see a place that used to be bustling so empty.

  And then I saw Viviane there.

  She looked away, with the same expression of disdain. "Dramatic girl," I thought.

  Arnaldo took the center of the room. His voice changed, firmer, almost like that of a real leader.

  "Guys, thanks for being here. I know the student council used to be bigger, better… more respected. But today, this is what's left. Many left out of fear. Fear of the violent groups, the bullying that happens every day in the hallways and no one does anything. But I believe we can change that."

  He paused. Everyone listened in silence.

  "Our school used to have prestige. Won awards, students got into good universities, teachers taught with passion. Today, it's a joke. But as long as I'm here, I won't accept that. We'll start small, but we'll make noise. Show that there are still those who care."

  A girl with braids, sitting in the corner, raised her hand.

  "But how are we going to face these groups, Arnaldo? They don't care what we say. There are so many of them…"

  "We're not going to face them with force. We're going to expose, denounce, record. Show what's happening. And start from within. With real actions. That's why we have two new members: Elaijah and Viviane."

  Viviane grimaced. So did I.

  "Wait, they hate each other!" commented one of the boys, laughing.

  "Then they'll have to learn to tolerate each other," said another girl. "I loved the chaotic energy."

  Arnaldo called us to a corner.

  "You two will be a team."

  "Wait, what? Why with this guy?" she protested. "I want another partner."

  "I agree with her too. I don't do well with short people."

  "Elaijah…" Arnaldo crossed his arms. "She's my cousin."

  "Oh… that explains it. I did think she looked familiar."

  Viviane looked at me, surprised.

  "You guys already know each other," said Arnaldo, smiling.

  "Wait… he can't be 'L'? Arnaldo?"

  "He's changed a lot, but yes, it's him," said Arnaldo.

  What are they talking about? And why does she know my childhood nickname? I wondered.

  "She's 'V', Elaijah," said Arnaldo, smiling.

  "V??"

  I was confused, until I remembered. That's why that cane seemed familiar. Arnaldo had a cousin with a disability in her left leg who needed a cane to walk.

  "You remember? You two were best friends," said Arnaldo.

  "We were kids. Nobody cares about that," replied Viviane, a little embarrassed.

  "You're very different now..."

  "You too… you've become an annoying guy."

  "Who are you calling annoying, shorty?"

  "The new members are quite stressed," commented a girl from the council, laughing.

  "Enough, you two," said Arnaldo.

  "I already have a mission for you."

  "It's our first day and we're already going to do tasks?" I complained with a lazy look.

  "It's an important mission. I think you'll do well. And who knows, you might even make a good team."

  "You can't be sure of that," said Viviane, crossing her arms.

  "This mission is a priority," Arnaldo said loudly, so everyone could hear. "Lately, a lot of things have been disappearing at school. Many students are being robbed. Inside the school! They're taking phones, money, snacks, watches, among other things. I know it's common in public schools, but these thefts have gone too far. And we need to find this thief."

  "Understood," said the girl with braids. "Good luck to the new team."

  "That's all for today," concluded Arnaldo, looking firmly at the group, but more lightly at me.

  Walking back to the classroom, I started thinking about how I knew Viviane. I used to call her V… and I forgot her real name. She's changed a lot. Before, she could barely walk, even with the cane. She used a wheelchair. I thought she was rich. How did she end up in a public school?

  We were going to the classroom. Because of the cane, she walked slowly, so I was about 20 meters ahead.

  Arriving in the classroom, I went straight to my place and started staring at the desk.

  A few minutes later, she arrived and saw me with a sullen face, staring fixedly.

  "I don't want to work with you, but I like to do what I'm told. So we'll have to get along until the first case. After that, I want

  to switch partners," said Viviane, sitting down and fiddling with her notebook.

  I continued staring at my desk, ignoring what she said.

  "I'm talking to you!" Viviane complained.

  "They stole my snack," I replied seriously, with a sullen face.