Oliver had done well in primary, had qualified for a top rated school. He doubted his mother was aware he no longer attended primary and didn’t bother advise her to what school he was accepted.
He knew that a real mother would be proud of his achievement, but his biological mother was no more to Oliver than a prison guard.
When somehow she found out what school he was now attending, she grunted about it being too far, too much bus fare and announced that she couldn’t afford it.
Oliver didn’t bother to inform her he had a bus pass so travelled free.
He shared nothing with her, expected nothing from her.
He made his own lunch and packed it in his bag. Then he’d walk to the bus stop and take the long ride to the school, and then the long ride home.
The length of the trip didn’t bother him. Oliver had no life as others knew it. He had school and books and on the side; Rudy and some of Rudy’s friends.
He had no home life, no connections to anyone or place or thing, and kept his dreams no more than a few months ahead. Good grades and learning as much as he could were his focus.
Oliver trusted no one, loved no one, relied on no one. He never had.