"Everyone!"
Once the teacher for the first period took the stage, he looked at the students sitting below and said: "Starting today, we are welcoming a new classmate, an exchange student from Canada."
Locke saw Liz sitting not far away, already face-palming and rolling her eyes.
"Let's give her a hand."
The teacher gestured toward the door. "Co in, Miss gan Walsh."
Accompanied by applause, the exchange student from Canada walked into the classroom.
At that mont.
The applause died instantly.
A second later.
A few high-energy basketball players in the class couldn't hold back their laughter.
Liz clutched her forehead and turned to Gwen with a look that said: See? Now you know what I ant!
Locke looked at the exchange student on stage, his expression also turning a bit strange.
Let's put it this way.
This girl nad gan Walsh definitely had the looks; if you were scoring her, she'd be around an 80.
But...
The outfit was a disaster.
Even Cinderella needed to put on the right clothes to catch the Prince's attention.
But this gan Walsh gave Locke the first impression of soone who might have so ntal issues, or perhaps soone who had just co out of a deep prival forest and had no idea how the world worked, dressing herself in a complete ss.
Good grief.
This girl is likely going to beco part of a vulnerable group.
Locke thought to himself.
The so-called "vulnerable group" in school, to put it bluntly, were the targets of exclusion and bullying.
Midtown High had them.
In fact, even back in Texas, they existed.
However, whether in Texas or here, Locke was neither part of the vulnerable group nor the dominant group. He was just himself—a loner. If you spoke to him, he spoke back.
Furthermore, Locke's physique was right there. Once, during afternoon sports, his tank top highlighted his eight-pack abs and powerful arms, imdiately making anyone thinking of bullying him drop the idea.
They probably felt that if Locke landed one punch, they'd be crying for a very long ti.
So, they didn't dare provoke Locke, and Locke didn't bother hanging out with them.
Locke didn't pay it much mind.
But this gan Walsh?
Sure enough.
Since Locke's second period was different from Gwen's, he heard Gwen's complaints by lunchti in the cafeteria. She said that because gan Walsh's first impression was similar to a savage just coming out of the mountains, she had been mocked by many people.
As she spoke.
Gwen looked at Locke, sowhat curious: "What do you think?"
Locke raised an eyebrow. "?"
Gwen nodded. "Mhm."
Locke smiled. "I never judge a book by its cover!"
Just like how he made friends—he never cared if the other person was rich or beautiful. As long as they clicked, he didn't care what their profession was.
It was the sa as how he looked at Gwen. It was fine at the start, but now, Locke didn't even consciously think about whether Gwen was beautiful or not.
That was just how it was.
Gwen laughed, then her eyes lit up as she saw gan Walsh just entering the cafeteria. She waved: "gan, over here!"
She was the ninth-grade student assistant; helping every newcor adapt to school life quickly was her job.
Just as it was when Locke first arrived.
A mont later.
Gwen led gan, who had her tray of food, to the table and introduced her to the guy sitting there: "Locke Broughton!"
gan extended her right hand to Locke like an adult and said happily: "Hello, Locke. I'm gan, the exchange student from Canada."
Locke smiled, stood up, and shook her hand.
His eyebrow twitched!
This hand...
Sothing's not right.
Locke withdrew his hand without a sound, nodded, and sat back down.
gan Walsh from Canada also sat down excitedly. One couldn't see a trace of frustration on her face despite being excluded in the morning or mocked for her clothes.
Either she was thick-skinned, or she didn't care.
Locke leaned toward both.
This gan Walsh...
Is not simple.
A normal person's hand—Gwen's, for example—felt soft to the touch and even looked like it would sll nice.
But gan Walsh's hand?
Locke felt as if he were shaking hands with Victoria Knox, or Arthur the chanic, or a famous old hitman. Those calluses on her hand were so familiar.
It's not to say all calluses on hands are caused by firearms, but those specific locations for calluses are only possible through handling guns.
But...
At sixteen, to have calluses like that... wouldn't that an she started learning to shoot at age five or six, with a daily minimum of a hundred rounds? Only then would it be possible to have calluses of that degree.
Good grief.
Locke raised an eyebrow, watching the two. Their school life conversation was basically non-existent, but Gwen didn't mind and continued answering gan's questions. A thought seed to occur to him.
"So..."
Locke took a bite of his burger and asked as if casually: "gan, which school were you at in Canada before?"
"Trent High School."
gan, who was talking to Gwen, spoke subconsciously upon hearing Locke's question. Then, she looked at him: "Yes, Trent High. Have you heard of it, Locke?"
Locke shook his head. "No."
gan seed to breathe a sigh of relief.
In the afternoon.
Locke, who was preparing to pack his things and head ho, watched expressionlessly as a classmate nad Gucci tried to flirt with gan. Gucci reached out to pat gan's right hand, but without even turning her head, gan executed a backhand joint lock, pinning Gucci's face directly onto the desk.
Locke's eyebrow shot up.
gan snapped back to reality, a look of panic appearing on her face: "Oh my God, sorry, Gucci! I didn't an to. You shouldn't sneak up behind people like that."
Gucci, feeling like his right arm was dislocated: "..."
Locke walked over, grabbed Gucci's right hand, took a look, and looked up at him: "Bear with it?"
Gucci was stunned. "Wha—OOOHHH!"
Locke released Gucci's hand. "There."
Gucci imdiately started jumping around happily like a monkey, tears nearly streaming down his face.
gan seed to look at Locke with so surprise.
Locke walked toward the door. "Don't thank . Just call Cowboy!"
For a cowboy, various injuries were a common occurrence; a long illness makes a good doctor.
As the number one youth cowboy in Texas, it was perfectly normal for Locke to know so skilled first-aid techniques. It followed basic logic, just as a chanic would have a wrench in his pocket.
But gan—a sixteen-year-old female classmate—having those calluses and that beyond-human, almost subconscious defensive technique... if she were truly just a student, that would definitely not follow basic logic.
This gan Walsh is suspicious.
Could it be...
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon/Redestro666
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