Nix’s POV “Hey, farm boy,” somebody yells. I didn’t look around, as there couldn’t possibly be anyone talking to me. If they are, why are they talking to me? Would they be trying to provoke a reaction from me? Because today is not a good day to do that. “I said. Hey, farm boy,” the same voice yells. This time, I know it is coming from the crowd of jocks that have gathered during our physical education class. Yes, I live on a small farm and yes, I am a boy, but I have a name. In fact, no one knows my real name. Teachers call me by my nickname, which is Nix. But they are probably the only few that even know that. I am not in the right frame of mind to be around people today, but if I don’t attend school, someone will come to my house. So, I have to be here, but I shouldn’t be. It’s the rule of the human town I live in that I have to attend school. But I am not human, or at least my mom wasn’t. I am going to assume I’m not either. She never talks about who helped conc
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