"This is the worst birthday ever!"
Brendan clenches his fists as he and his father walk up a couple of steps leading to their seats right in front of the large ceremonial hall. It's covered in all the Bachmann colours that he is beginning to loathe seeing, simply because they are a constant reminder of what he desperately wants to forget.
The place is filled to capacity even though in this particular moment, it's gone extremely quiet as he and his father walk up to their seats that are nothing but replicas of their actual seats in the throne room back home.
And for someone who relished being king of Blackwood high, he hates being in this position. All the eyes on him, all the whispers that he enjoyed in school feel more of a burden here. He wishes they would all just go home and leave
