The first person to shake me out of my otherwise monotonous life started, as it usually did, with Parker's incessant chatter. I meant narrative.

"The school bell rang," he began with an optimistic grin, stretching his arms out as we started filing out of class, "signalling the final break of the day. Students filled the halls in a dynamic scene of anticipatory unrest. Bumping and prodding into one another as they each vied for the best view at the front gate."

He had a propensity for narrating particularly unremarkable school gossip–for lack of better excitement. Boy kiss girl, girl kiss boy, girl kiss girl...

Well, you get the idea.

"Rumours had it Shalom High was getting a Golden Spoon," he said, dramatizing his voice like an A-grade thespian. He shuffled through his pocket for his trusty Dictaphone and held it in front of my face. I noticed that there was no visible red light to show if the bloody thing was even on.

It took every shred of my patience not to knock it to the floor.

"And what is this 'Golden Spoon', you might ask?" he then paused, blinking rapidly when I emphatically said nothing. Undeterred, he merely continued: "It is a silver spoon born of royal blood. A spoon which surpasses every known subject, every known sport, and basks in every one of life's delights. Every parent loves the golden spoon, every man admires it, and every woman desires it. Favoured by the gods themselves, though this one is purely just conjecture. Above all, he is one who sits on the throne of thrones above all silver spoons and all of their subjects."

We arrived in front of the windows that overlooked the school's driveway entrance. There was a flashy black car like the ones you see on TV pulling in. Parker noticed too; his eyes lit with the same exhilaration as the rest of the masses rushing to witness its entry. The car looked like it had tinted windows, but it might have been the glare.

Knowing he was still ninety-nine percent likely to continue, I rolled my eyes, ready to silence the lamb. Then lo-and-behold...

"And, as a black Mercedes S-Class pulls into the yard, we see that today marks the very special arrival of Shalom's brand-new golden spoon, Kens––Ow!"

"Can you shut it already?" I finally snapped, elbowing Parker's ribs.

Right at this moment, we were ambling along too close behind the crowds. It was fortunate that everybody was racing to follow the commotion outside since it meant we had first dibs on lunch at the cafeteria. From where we stood at the third-floor window, I had a clear view of said Golden Spoon stepping out from the car. While I had no particular interest in him, even I couldn't quite look away.

"You know, that was excessive even for you," Parker grumbled, rubbing the side I'd hit.

"If I have to hear that godforsaken name once more, I will do worse."

He broke into a sly grin. "Whose name? You mean Kensing––Ow!"

I elbowed him again. He cussed and continued rubbing the sore spot, undeterred.

"Kensington––Ow!"

"Put a cork in it. Do you think he'll appear in a mirror if you say his name enough times?"

Parker rolled his eyes. We continued down the stairs, trailing amongst hordes of bustling bodies. A few people brushed past me, resulting in Parker holding me steady. Some brushed past Parker, resulting in me holding him steady. This was quite normal. Every transfer generated a similar response from the entire student body, which was to be expected at this highly reputable private school. Although, I admit, this time was a little more excessive than most.

"Bullshit. You won't even let me say his full name. Imagine if that was my official report. You totally blew it for me."

"As if. You weren't even recording."

Ray Parker was vice president of the Journalism Club. He wore turtleneck long sleeves, vests, and thick-rimmed glasses. And yet there was no one who could deny all that juice clear beneath his clothes. As the only member who paid genuine interest to the club and its roles, he usually got all the jobs. The club president had the sole duty of communicating directly with the department head, while Parker did everything else. And he reaped the benefits. The members didn't mind. I spent our club hours lazing around while Parker worked tirelessly, and to no end. If he didn't get hired straight out of high school, then my name wasn't Arlo Augustine.

"Your attitude towards this guy is insane and you haven't even met him yet. Can't you just be a little civil?"

"He's all anybody's talking about. Why do I have to listen to it all? Instead of all these rumours, isn't it better to hear it from him?"

"Yeah, yeah," Parker said, rolling his eyes. "Sensible as ever."

I looked back out the window. A single person stood centred amidst a crowd, one whose hair was lighter and whose skin was fairer than everybody around him. I could only liken what I saw to a gold speck in a pile of dust. The distance was close enough that I could see more of his features as he approached. Once he neared the foot of the front entrance, he looked up. He seemed to scan the length of the building. And then, before I knew it, his eyes settled on mine.

At least I thought so.

If I wasn't mistaken, then he really held my gaze for a few seconds before trailing along inside. While most people had dispersed, there were still some among them who trailed behind him. All girls.

"Tch. Damn it, we missed the Golden Spoon's arrival. What a wasted opportunity," Parker clicked his tongue, grumbling mostly to himself.

I rolled my eyes in response. "Hardly."

"You're not the one who gets paid by the Journalism Club for great feed to go on the bulletin board."

"Gossip is not 'great feed' for the bulletin board, Parker. And I, for one, wouldn't pay you pickles from my burger." Then I paused, glancing up at his sour expression. "Wait, you get paid?"

Parker snorted and slapped his hand onto my back, applying a negligible force to get me moving again. We reached the foot of the stairs when he stopped, clicked his tongue, then slapped me on the back again, grinning ear to ear. "It's a wonder why you get picked on."

"Piss off," I said, ready to hurt him again before he ran off across the hall, leaving me behind. I lowered my head and kicked the floor, trudging along behind him to the cafeteria. "Prick."

Break finished all too quickly. We had separate classes today, so I sat in my usual seat, far removed from the rest of the class. Very back, very far right by the door. Last to get in, last to get out. It was a Physical Education class which often started out with theory in the classroom. The teacher prattled on at the front of the class, putting today's physical activity up for a vote. With just a small edge over volleyball, dodgeball got the winning number of hands. I groaned.

On a positive note, though, we were joining Orla's class so I could stick with her. The upside was that with her being so sporty and competitive, she would undoubtedly carry me through the game. The downside was that I'd still be playing dodgeball with a group of silver spoons who saw me as something scummy and dirtier than a long-drop.

Everybody rushed to move off their seats and hurried past me. Of course, somewhere between the bustling bodies, somebody knocked my shoulder and the back of my head with their bags. It happened a few times, but I kept my eyes closed and held my breath so that I didn't have to face the situation. Even without looking, I knew exactly who they were.

All students having left, I stood up and collected my belongings. Then the door squeaked open behind me. The teacher looked up and smiled in greeting, making my head turn to find Kensington Cole standing by the door.

"Sorry I'm late," he shyly murmured, glancing around the room and then at me. "Did I miss class already?"

He peered down at his very ordinary-looking blue watch.

"Not at all," Ms. Park said. "The others have already headed down to the gym. I'm just packing up some assessment papers to bring with me, but Arlo can walk you over."

My blood pressure skyrocketed, and I felt my face breaking into a cold sweat.

Kensington smiled at me, waiting for me to go ahead. My head felt heavier than lead, so I couldn't even nod. With my eyes glued to the floor, I swung my bag over my shoulder and tried to avoid brushing as I passed him. We walked through the empty hallways, where the quiet was daunting right until someone else's voice filled the hallway, and actually, I knew that voice all too well.

"Keep your soggy fingers away from me," Orla said, and I heard a vague slapping sound. "I'm going to find my brother."

"I want to welcome Kensington first!" somebody else argued, their voice coming off something like a pig squeal. "You two gutter rats are such an eyesore. Why do you even come here?"

"First off, why are you trying so hard to sound familiar with him? He's not gonna be interested in you wiggling your greasy little fingers in his face," Orla huffed. "And second, just try to insult my brother again. Believe me when I say I will end you."

When I noticed Kensington glancing at me from the corner of my eye, I stared even harder at the floor. Was this what it meant to be popular?

"That's my sis and someone else," I whispered, amazed that I could get a word out around him. "Maybe I should go to the rescue before things get really ugly."

"It's good of you to rescue your sister," he whispered back. "You must both stick up for each other a lot."

I shook my head with a wry smile and took a left so that the two girls came to view. "It's not my sister who needs saving."

Orla already held a tight fist of the girl's hair and was forcing her back through the gym doors, adding a swift kick to the lower back for extra measure. Orla glanced over and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God you're alright," she said. "Why are you so late?"

"New guy," I said briefly while glancing up at him.

He stared at her in awe, something like a love-struck puppy. Was this perhaps... love at first sight? Orla barely spared him a glance, instead grabbing me by the shoulders and rotating me for a thorough inspection. Her fingers gripped the back of my neck, then pushed my head down to see whatever caught her attention there.

"Why is there a scratch here?" she snapped. "Who did this?"

I didn't even realise any of those bags caused a scratch.

"Must've itched it too hard," I said with a shrug. Glancing back at Kensington Cole, I could see him studying our exchange with the utmost fascination. The only conclusion I could draw from this was that he was quickly smitten by her. Maybe he was so deeply moved by her heroism and bravery that he wasted no time with falling in love at first glance. As much as I hated to play the victim, at least it scored her some brownie points. And if all the rumours swimming around about him were true, then there was nobody who deserved her more.

Orla was my hard-headed twin, deeply uninterested in love and romance, but she'd probably never had the chance to win the affection of a golden spoon before. Since she was probably a little dense to the signs, I figured this might be my cue to play cupid for her. A slow smile crept along my lips.

Orla narrowed her eyes at me, but deftly turned to the gym doors. "Hurry up," she said. "We're late for PE."

She hurried ahead of us, obviously excited to get straight into the game. Kensington moved leisurely beside me, walking close enough that our shoulders brushed every few steps. I flinched the first few times and moved to give him space, but he'd effortlessly close the distance again every time I tried. I gradually gave up and somehow steadily got used to the proximity instead. By the time we arrived at the court, the game of dodgeball was already in full swing.

Amid the passionate yells and the squeaking of shoes padding across the polished wooden floors, Orla stood waving to us from her side of the court. The silver spoons were long since carried away, using full strength to fling the red rubber balls at each other. Balls flung in every direction, some within inches of me and Kensington as they flew off court. My legs froze, unable to carry me where I needed to go behind my safety crutch that was my sister.

Kensington went ahead, either not noticing or not caring that I didn't take another step. That I couldn't. His arm moved, effortlessly fending off fly-aways until he reached Orla's side, then wasted no time in taking part in the game. They were a natural tag team right from the word go, catching every ball and sending them hurling back at members of the other side. Even the silver spoons were being plucked off one after the next.

Their attention was on Stanley Knight and the last few remaining top competitors. The girl from earlier, Eva, was one of them. She held a rubber ball under her arm, glaring back and forth between me and Orla. Her eyes shot daggers at me, making me too uncomfortable to stand here on my own any longer. It's what I needed to muster the courage to join in, and yet I took only three steps before I plummeted.

My nose took a hit and had me sprawled on the floor. Holding my hand under my bloodied nose, I glanced up to find that what was an unmistakable death glare only moments ago had transformed into a satisfied smirk. It didn't take a genius to work out that she had hit me on purpose. I guess Orla pissed her off before, and I was the easiest target to get revenge on.

Ms. Park blew her whistle and pointed at me. "Arlo, are you okay? Can somebody get him to the nurse's office, please, then let's resume the game."

Orla sprinted over to me with Kensington hot on her tail. They stood on either side of me and helped me back to my feet, but I shrugged them both off as soon as I was standing.

"That was a heavy shot," Orla said, glaring around at every prospective culprit across the court. "Who the hell did that? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, patting myself down. "I got unlucky with a fly-away."

It's not as if I could blame it on her earlier fight or on Kensington Cole's arrival. Two matters which, at least initially, had nothing to do with me. Kensington pulled the sleeve of his shirt into his fist and pushed mine aside, placing it under my nose. "I'll take you to the nurse's room."

"I'll do it," Orla said, pushing him aside.

Kensington leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear. She stared at him with an expression I couldn't quite name, but soon gave a dubious nod. "Fine," she conceded, "but if he gets hurt along the way, I promise your first day here will be your last."

Kensington nodded with ease. "I can accept that."

Orla spared me an apologetic look before heading back to the court. She snatched a ball out of somebody's hand as if ready to get serious, but the game didn't resume right away. Something told me she was about to start a war instead, but I didn't want to stick around to find out. Even though this kind of thing was typical for me, people wouldn't usually single me out in her presence. They weren't usually that stupid, and if they were, I could almost guarantee they had something to prove. And it never ended well for them.

Kensington had one arm around my shoulders, while his arm sleeve remained planted below my nose. "Keep your head low," he said.

"Your uniform's getting all dirty," I protested, trying to shrug him off. "This isn't how you should spend your first twenty minutes at a new school."

"Twenty minutes is probably a little generous yet," he said.

We passed a large window down the hall where we could see the sun high in the cloudless sky. Kensington's curly blond hair appeared luminous in the sunlight, casting what almost looked like a glowing halo above his head. His golden eyes were piercing, yet they became gentle as soon as they met mine. A peculiar blue speck glinted in one of his eyes like a jewel.

"You really have a hard time, don't you?" he said, in more of a matter-of-fact kind of way.

"It's hard to be inconspicuous with a sister like mine," I said. "We're nothing alike, so I guess people don't really know how to gauge us. Or me."

"You're gentle," he said, smiling softly at me. "I don't know how anyone could mistake that." The coolness of his smile filled me with sudden calmness and ease. Even the pain in my nose was quick to subside, as if the boy contained healing properties himself. "You and your sister are pretty impressive."

Was this his subtle, roundabout way of bringing Orla into the conversation? I couldn't help but grin. Considering he was the second person ever to be nice to me after Parker, I knew he would be the perfect prospect for my sister. This once in a lifetime opportunity couldn't go to waste, no matter how stubborn she could be. A lot of silver spoons have tried to chase her with no luck, but Kensington Cole would have an advantage that no other had: me.

Though it was easy for me to reach this conclusion, I first needed to confirm somehow that he was, in fact, interested in pursuing her. Figuring it best to take the subtle approach, I decided to test the waters and feel him out a little first.

"Interested, are we?" I joked while watching eagerly for his reaction. He glanced down at me while a slight tinge coloured his cheeks, giving the perfect sign my hunch was correct.

"Maybe a little," he shyly murmured his response.

It was the confirmation I needed. I would show those snot-nose bullies that even gutter rats could win the heart of Shalom High's newest heartthrob. We'd prove that even foster kids who survived off scholarships and handouts could win, and I'd prove it, or so help me God. My sister deserved her happy ending.