Kyle Bloodworth-Thomason, a slender, pale thirteen-year-old wizard, stepped out of his apartment building and began his walk around town. He was trying to create a new potion, but he knocked over a whole bottle of a certain flammable ingredient into the mixture in his cauldron by mistake, causing a small explosion. The whole ordeal created a huge mass of smoke throughout his apartment, so he stepped out until it cleared up.
It was a chilly, rainy Saturday evening. Kyle hated rain, but he had an umbrella and nowhere else to be, so he didn't complain. Well, he did, but about something else.
"Hmph, stupid potion... Why would anyone need rainbow-coloured breath? Why was that potion on the exam? Ugh, at least I can take comfort in knowing it's just as loony as before I was expelled, at least nothing's changing..." Kyle hissed angrily to himself as he was strolling along the village-sized city streets. He was starting to doubt if going back to Milkweed was even worth it. He'd only be greeted with insults and teasing upon his return; he'd have to go back to that same, boring, mundane, routine; he'd be back to being all alone...
He had made a right turn down Main St. when he heard the sound of someone crying from an alley up ahead. Kyle slowly approached the opening between buildings and peeked around the alley corner. There was a small boy about six feet into the alley, sitting against the wall, crying with his head in his hands. He was extremely lanky, and wore a pale red shirt accompanied with a ripped grey vest. He also sported grey jeans, black boots, a brown newsboy hat, and a scarf with red and white stripes. The older boy felt a bolt of sadness strike his being at the sight. He slowly took a step in the dark path, and accidentally stepped on a fallen leaf. The small child was startled by the little crunch.
"Oh! H-hello, sir. C-could you spare a dollar?" he manage you sniffle and stutter out in an Australian accent. When he looked up, Kyle saw light streaks where his tears had gone down, meaning the child's face was extremely dirty, and strikingly resembled his own. He took a few steps closer and knelt down.
"Oh my goodness... little boy, why are you out here so late? Where are your parents?" he asked, putting his left hand on the child's right shoulder. The boy let out a few more tears, and answered.
"I... I don't have any, sir. They passed away shortly after we came here."
Kyle could almost hear his own heart break in two. He figured he had no other guardians, so he asked no more questions regarding his living status.
"What's your name?" he asked after a few seconds. He found out the boy's name was Retchy Lintpockets. Kyle gave a gentle smile at the strange name.
"And how old are you, Retchy Lintpockets?"
"I-I'm five years old, sir."
"You're only five years old? And out here all alone?" Kyle gasped in astonishment. Retchy looked down and gave a slight nod.
"Well, that just won't do. Come with me, you can stay with me in my apartment." He smiled, got up, and held his hand up for little Retchy to hold. The child looked up in shock and backed himself further into the wall.
"Oh, oh no, sir, I couldn't! I don't want to bother you... and I don't even know your name!" Retchy was a very shy, polite child, and couldn't fathom taking an offer this generous without even knowing what to call his new savior. Kyle knelt down, giggled, and wiped a tear off the boy's face with his thumb.
"My name is Kyle, Kyle Bloodworth-Thomason, and you could never be a bother to me. Actually, it would bother me greatly if you didn't come with me. Besides, I could really use some company." Retchy let out a small laugh, stood up, and took the teen's right hand. Kyle then stood upright and guided the little boy to his new home.