The Ranking System: Serpenti High, page 1
The Ranking System
♟ I.J Hidee ♟
The Ranking System
Paperback edition published in 2022
Author I.J Hidee
Editor credits Andrea Oberlin
Copyright © 2022 by I.J Hidee
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
ISBN 9798788551326
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means with prior permission, without prior permission in writing of the publishers, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Also by I.J Hidee
The Class Prince
The Prick and His Prince
Y.O.L.O
Conan the Dandelion
Darker Parker
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Interrogation Room
Chapter 2: One Year in Hell
Chapter 3: Him
Chapter 4: The Orphanage
Chapter 5: Serpenti High
Chapter 6: The Ranking System
Chapter 7: Our Forever
Chapter 8: Heroes Don’t Exist
Chapter 9: Adam Hale
Chapter 10: New Play Toy
Chapter 11: Three Days
Chapter 12: The Bottom
Chapter 13: The Good Old Days
Chapter 14: Two Boys, One Bottle
Chapter 15: My Death
Chapter 16: Two Sides to a Story
Chapter 17: Don’t Trust a Soul
Chapter 18: Tarantula
Chapter 19: High Moral Standards
Chapter 20: A Corpse— No, a Body
Chapter 21: A Murderer
Chapter 22: On the Brink of Death
Chapter 23: All for Me
Chapter 24: Cold Case
Chapter 25: Together
It’s all fun and games until someone dies.
Chapter 1: The Interrogation Room
"True or false?" the policeman in front of me asked.
I sunk in my seat, fiddling with the ring hanging around my neck. I didn’t know what was worse: the incredibly uncomfortable chair or the grown-ass man who wanted to play True or False.
The policeman sitting across from me had a notebook and pen. He was good-looking, with a square jaw, a sharp nose, liquid-brown eyes, and an unshaven face that gave him a sexy office-dad look. But three reasons quickly made me lose interest in him. He looked like he could be as old as my dad, but that was highly impossible. The engagement ring on his left hand indicated he was married. And lastly, his perfect posture and strict voice gave me the feeling that he was a man who followed every rule in the book. Not only did he abide by the law, but he protected it. Oh, and let’s not forget that he just asked me to play True or False.
In his defense, he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about interrogating me either. He’s been asking me questions for two hours but was getting nowhere. His last resort was playing True or False. Who knows? Maybe we’ll start a round of tic-tac-toe.
"Do I have to play this dumb game?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"No."
Well, at least he was straightforward.
“Axis, I’m trying to help you. I would appreciate it if you would stop looking at me like you want to run me over.”
"I can't."
"Why not?”
“You’re in my line of vision.”
His mouth tightened into a line. Good. Great. Let him get mad. Maybe then, he’ll leave me alone. After a few minutes, he spoke again.
"True or false? Your name is Axis Imber."
I shrugged lazily. "It depends."
"Depends?"
"Depends on when," I elaborated while still remaining ambiguous.
"Your current name is Axis Imber, but your birth name is Eric Sonder."
My shoulders tensed. It’d been a while since I’d last heard my birth name, and it carried painful memories from a past I didn’t want to remember.
“True,” I answered coldly.
"You're seventeen years old.”
"Don't you have papers for this stuff?"
"True or false?" he asked impatiently.
I sighed. "True."
"Orphan?"
"Fuck you."
"Language," he warned me.
"Manners," I shot back.
The policeman straightened his back and cleared his voice.
"Is it true that you ran away from your old orphanage when you were eleven?”
"It was the best decision I’ve ever made,” I replied, smirking proudly.
“How many orphanages did you stay at before your last one?”
“I lost count.”
His jaw tightened. It was as if this interrogation was harder for him to hear than it was for me to speak. But hey, he had it easy. All he had to do was listen; I actually had to live it.
"High school dropout?" he continued.
"Screw school,” I said.
“You should have stayed. It would have kept you out of trouble.”
“You sound like my dad.” I paused. “Y’know, if I had one.”
We went back and forth with the questions for two hours, but my wrists were starting to hurt.
“Do I have to be handcuffed?” I mumbled.
"You punched our staff."
"It was an act of self-defense," I protested.
"The handcuffs stay,” he said firmly.
“I won’t punch you.”
"I don't believe you."
Well, at least he wasn’t dumb.
“How long is this interrogation going to last anyway?"
“Until I figure out how an underage teenager has been living alone on the streets for the past couple of years without anyone finding out.”
“Because no one cares.”
“What?”
“You wanted an answer, so there you have it,” I said. “What’s one less life going to change in the world anyway? No one’s gonna care if an orphan dies on the streets. I’m living proof of this.”
I’d been living in an abandoned building for years. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it was better than living under a bridge and sharing a tent with a stranger who’d probably rob me the second I closed my eyes. Growing up on the streets redefined my instincts. It made me quicker and sharper and taught me never to trust anyone.
When I was a kid, I jumped from one orphanage to another. It didn’t take me very long to figure out that no one was going to adopt me. I didn’t see the point of dressing nicely and slapping on a smile. I’d look at the other kids who tried so hard to impress strangers, and it was painful to look at. It was painful because it was as if I was looking at my own reflection.
After I ran away, I thought someone would at least look for me. There were a couple of posters plastered on the street poles: “Missing child. Call xx-xx-xx-xx-xx if found,” with a blurry picture of my face. I made the town’s headlines, but a week later, people forgot about me. It was as if my existence meant nothing. And it probably didn't. Eventually, the local newspapers had more interesting stories to tell, and the papers plastered on the poles were replaced with pizza ads or missing pet signs. My name was quickly forgotten.
But as shitty as my life was, I didn’t want to die. I existed. Perhaps not to the world, but to him, I did. And that was enough to keep me going.
“Let’s take a break,” the policeman said. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”
"My freedom.”
He paused, then smiled sadly.
"You will, Axis. Soon."
Chapter 2: One Year in Hell
“My name is Christopher,” he said once he returned. Christopher gave me a chocolate bar. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I finished the snack in two bites. He looked at me with a small smile.
I scowled. “What?”
“Eric, how did you manage to survive on your own?"
“Axis,” I said coldly.
“What?”
“My name is Axis.” There was only one person who was allowed to call me Eric. I blinked and stifled a pathetic laugh.
Yeah, the same person who abandoned you.
"I became the city's youngest hitman," I answered. Christopher and I didn’t seem to share the same sense of humor because the crease between his brows deepened.
"I had a couple of part-time jobs," I finally said.
"You're a minor."
"And you're an old fart."
He narrowed his eyes. He asked me what kind of jobs I did, who hired me and their locations, but my lips were sealed. Hiring a homeless orphan was cheap labor, but those people saved me when I had no one. They weren’t bad people. They were simply good people who did bad things.
"Eri— I mean, Axis," he said.
“You might as well have said my whole name.”
“I'm sorry we couldn't protect you, I really am, but can you tell me how illegal those jobs were?”
I was confused by his question.
"They were honest jobs."
He rubbed the nape of his neck, looking uncomfortable.
“You didn’t… You didn’t do anything that required intimate services?”
My eyes narrowed.
"I didn't whore myself out if that's what you're asking," I spat. He seemed relieved despite my harsh words.
“I
"I'd kill myself before spreading my legs for anyone."
"Axis—"
"Are we done?"
He looked at me and I guess he was tired too because he nodded. Good, I could finally go home now.
Ha, jokes on me, I didn't have a home.
“We'll stop here for today.”
"For today? You mean we have to do this again?" I groaned. “Look Christopher, as much as I enjoy chatting with you on this uncomfortable chair with my hands cuffed together, I have better things to do.”
“We’ve spoken to an organization that funds money for young people struggling with poverty,” he said, ignoring me.
"You guys threw a pity party without me?" I pouted.
“They’ve agreed to pay for your education. We’re sending you back to high school.”
My lashes fluttered.
“Wait, what?”
“We’re working on sending your application to a school in the south.”
I stiffened when he mentioned the south.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of sending me there.”
"You don't know which school I'm talking about."
"You’re going to send me to Serpenti High, aren’t you?” The surprised look on his face answered my question. Of course they were sending me there. You sent people you wanted to get rid of to Serpenti High. Everyone knew S.H was a school for teen criminals with behavioral problems.
"It's not as bad as you think.” he tried to reassure me.
“Not as bad as I think?” I scoffed. “My life’s already as bad as it is. I deserve better, not worse.”
“We were out of options. The other schools weren’t willing to accept applications during the middle of the semester. Besides, Serpenti High isn’t as bad as you think. They have a dormitory and a cafeteria.”
“Prisons have those too,” I growled.
“You need a diploma to get a job.”
I laughed darkly. “Diploma or not, that isn’t going to change the fact that I’m an outcast. Do you really think someone like me is gonna fit in society? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been an outcast since the day I was born. I’m never gonna climb up the ranks.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You can’t send me there,” I said hoarsely, looking at him with pleading eyes. “It’s a school for criminals.”
"Technically, you're a criminal too."
This time, I was the one who didn't reciprocate his humor.
That school was filled with delinquents, gangsters, and who knows what else? I heard the students there were so horrible that the school had to hire armed guards to maintain order. I used to work near the school and remembered seeing tall metal fences and barbed wires. I thought it was a prison until someone told me it was a school. What was I even going to learn there? How to get away with murder?
“It’ll only be for one year,” Christopher tried to reassure me.
One year. He made it sound like one year in Hell was nothing.
Chapter 3: Him
I waited in front of the office while Christopher went to report his notes to the chief. My hands were still cuffed, but at least the chair was a bit comfier. There was a window across from me and I stared at my reflection.
My hair was a dirty gold that matched the color of my eyes. My arms felt stiff as I ran a hand through it from moving boxes the other day. Thanks to my part-time jobs, I was lean and strong. I ate enough to look healthy, but not enough to be bulky. I didn’t have much, but I did have the looks. I always thought I looked like some castaway prince who was left to fend for himself in the wild.
I heard heels down the hallway and turned my head. A beautiful lady with long blond hair walked towards the office. She looked nervous for some reason. I watched as she took the seat across from me, her eyes fixated on the Chief’s front door. Was she waiting for Christopher?
Her caramel eyes gazed back at me with curiosity. Maybe it was the expression in her eyes, but something about her aura made me uncomfortable. She seemed… Kind. And it was throwing me off.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
I looked over my shoulder, but there was no one. She was talking to me.
“Axis,” I replied dumbly. A warm smile pulled on the corners of her face, and she looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Why are your hands cuffed?”
“I’d like to know too.”
The lady stood up and sat beside me. She smelled nice, like flowers and a clean home. I watched as she took a bobby pin from her bag.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
“There are cameras,” I reminded her, nodding towards the corners of the ceiling. “Security might come.”
“Great, maybe they can bring the keys too.”
I think I’m in love.
I watched in amazement as she fiddled with the lock. Whoever she was, she knew what she was doing. Within seconds, we heard a “click” and the pressure around my wrists was gone.
If I’d been straight, I would’ve been head over heels for this woman.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked in amazement.
“My husband.” She smiled proudly. “It’s all in the wrist.”
“What does he do?”
Before she could answer, Christopher came out of the office. He glanced at us and did a double-take. He looked at me, then at the lady, and then at the handcuffs she was holding.
“Juliet, I taught you that in case you were in danger,” he said. “You know you just committed a crime, and in a police station at that too.”
“Then I’ll guess you’ll have to arrest me, officer,” she teased with a wink.
Christopher’s face turned red and he shifted his gaze, his hand flying through his hair. It was funny seeing such a rigid man be flustered.
“I asked you to wait in the car,” he murmured, his voice softer than when he spoke with me. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a better question. Why was this boy in handcuffs?”
“We found him in an abandoned building.”
I scowled. “I’m not a lost puppy.”
Juliet turned towards me and asked, “Where are your parents? We’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t have any parents.”
Juliet stared at me, then turned towards her husband.
“Is this why you asked me to stay in the car?” she asked with an edge in her voice. My eyes darted towards Christopher as I grinned. Seems like Mr. Policeman was in trouble. “And where is Axis staying?”
Christopher didn’t answer.
“Christopher, can I talk to you?” she asked sharply. Without waiting for his answer, she walked past him. Christopher looked at me and I raised my shoulders. He closed his eyes as if silently saying his prayers, took a deep breath, and followed Juliet down the hall.
I could hear them talking around the corner. No, they seemed to be arguing, but they were doing it so quietly I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A few minutes later, they came back. Christopher looked even more tired than he did when he came out of his chief’s office, and Juliet looked as bright and beautiful as ever. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who won the battle.
“Axis,” Christopher said. “Would you like to stay with us until you’re sent to Serpenti High?”
I stared at him in shock. That was what they were talking about? I glanced at Juliet who smiled at me.
“I make a pretty mad apple pie,” she said.
The thought of living with strangers seemed strange but I didn’t want to spend the next couple of nights in a detention center. When I glanced at Christopher, I felt like he didn’t want me around, but to my surprise, he looked away and said, “She’s right. It’d be a shame not to try her apple pie.”
***
Christopher and Juliet lived in a big, clean house. There were so many rooms and hallways; you could easily get lost inside. It seemed too big for two people. The banister was a twirl of a branch that led to a floor with more rooms. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns, and the walls were a shade of beige decorated with paintings and drawings. Juliet was a teacher and I assumed the drawings hanging on the walls were drawn by her students. She must love them a lot to put them in fancy frames.
