FOURSIDE LIGHTS
by DaL33T

PROLOGUE, PART ONE

— EAST FOURSIDE HIGH SCHOOL, 199X —

“Enfield, what’s the answer to number eleven?”
…
“Enfield, number eleven, now.”
…
“RYDER BERNARD ENFIELD, NUMBER ELEVEN, NOW!”
“Huh? Oh, sorry, sir, I must’ve fallen asleep in class, sir!”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m boring you, then. I guess I’ll just have to assign more homework to keep you on your toes! Now tell me, what is the answer to number eleven?”
“Uh, x = 4.2, and y = 7, sir.”
“Wrong. Maybe if you did your work with your eyes open, you’d see that the answer is, in fact, 3.5 and 9 respectively.”

R-R-R-RING!

“Well, last class of the day is over! Enjoy your weekend…save for Enfield here.”

Ryder Enfield (or “Rye” as most people called him) was just another student in East Fourside High School…

“Enfield, listen up, and listen carefully…”

He did well on tests, was well liked by students and faculty…

“…I don’t get paid low wages just to have the likes of you snooze off in my class and not make any effort whatsoever!!”

Well, MOST people around the school, anyway. He wasn’t the best in the math department, either…

“Now listen, your grades are in the C range. Every job requires math as a skill. It is my job to get this skill into that armor-plated skull of yours.”

But one day, his life would change forever…

“I want you to do this extra assignment over the weekend for me, okay, Enfield?”
The teacher produced a two-page-thick assignment and firmly put it down in front of Rye.
“Yes, sir.” grumbled Rye. He picked up the paper, put it away, stood up, and walked out without a word.

“It’s not my fault I had a horrible night’s rest.” He thought to himself as he walked down the stairwell. He went from the third floor to the first floor, and went out the front entrance. He approached the bike rack, unchained his bicycle, an Onettrak 10-speed he recently got for his 15th birthday, and pedaled home. East Fourside High School was at 40^th and Ferdinand, while Rye’s apartment was on Pekei Boulevard, between 34^th and 35^th, so Rye went one block west, and five blocks south.

When Rye rolled up outside his brownstone-styled apartment block, he chained the bike to streetlamp in front of his house and walked inside.

He went up the set of stairs to apartment #2E, unlocking the door.

“Hey, Ma! I’m home!” Rye said coming in.
“Rye! How was your day at school?” His mother replied.
“Not so good. I’ve got a LOT of homework to do, but since it’s Friday, I may as well-”
“Start working, because you’ve been getting less-than impressive grades in Math.”
“Ma, I just got home from school. I really think this can wait until Sunday.”
“No, it can’t, unless you want me to take away your video games until then.”
“But…*sigh*, Alright, I’ll start working now. I’ll be done in a few hours, okay?”
Rye sat down at the living room table, unloaded his backpack, and started to work.