Lawrenz Tybalt's Point of View
Yolanda Tybalt, my grandmother, enlightens me about the Samurai path, though I find it less intriguing. Instead, my passion lies in cooking over chocolates.
"Jose, let Lawrenz play badminton with his cousins," my grandfather interjected as Grandma insisted.
"Lawrenz is keen on planting. What should I do?" he complained.
Chuckling, I remarked, "I'm interested in everything, but physically lazy. Grandma's right; I should join sports with my cousins." I sweetly smiled, and my grandfather reciprocated.
At 5, I adore eating and learning. Cousins tickle my chubby body, making me laugh heartily.
In school, I enjoy drawing with colored pencils and crayons. Dad, Ted Tybalt, proudly promised, "I'll get you all the artistic tools for wonderful arts."
"Someday, I want to be like Grandfa Jose and become an Architect. He's creative and versatile," I mused.
"Do you want to be an architect? Mommy can't believe this," my mother, Viera Tybalt, exclaimed. "You can be anything, my son," she said, pinching my cheeks.
Our driver, Mr. Kejin, drives me to school. "Thank you, take care!" I said, and he bowed.
Approaching Angela Hazel Park, I asked, "Hey, why are you sad?" She retorted, "We're not close; I don't want you near." Chuckling, I replied, "I don't like ugly people either."
Our teacher taught us to write our names, emphasizing ownership. Angela remarked, "That chair is the school's, not yours."
Chloe Mendez called me cute. She's adorable but stubborn. At home, I watched news about an approaching typhoon.
Mom cooked fried chicken; I ate three. That night, I realized ownership comes without hindrance unless sharing is necessary.
Dad visited, reading Sherlock Holmes to me. "Goodnight, my son," he said.
Next morning, I watered Mom's garden, watched anime, studied reading and writing, and drew.
"What are you doing, sweetheart?" Mom asked.
"I envisioned a man sleeping for 10 years, inspired by Odysseus. He just wants to hug his parents when he wakes," I shared.
"Sweet, like Odysseus wanting to go home," Mom replied sadly.
ALARM CLOCK RINGING
I turned it off, a gift from Grandfa Jose. "Why wake up early on a Sunday? Oh well, it's my 6th birthday!"
"Happy birthday! You've grown!" Mr. Exke exclaimed.
"Thanks! Time for a bath; I have guests." I went downstairs, greeted cousins, and played games. While hiding, I found a locked stone box – a mystery to solve after the celebration.
After the lively games with my cousins, the party commenced. Friends and family gathered, showering me with birthday wishes and gifts. The air was filled with laughter and joy.
As the day unfolded, I couldn't shake off the curiosity about the mysterious stone box. Excusing myself from the festivities, I sneaked away to investigate. The box felt significant, and the engraving on it hinted at an intriguing secret.
Carefully, I examined the kryptonite-like material, wondering what could be inside. Just as I attempted to open it, Johnny's voice interrupted, "Hey, the party's in full swing! We need you back, Lawrenz."
Reluctantly, I left the mysterious box behind and rejoined the celebration. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of fun, games, and delicious treats. Despite the festivities, my mind kept drifting back to the enigmatic stone box.
As the party winded down, and guests bid their goodbyes, I seized the opportunity to return to the hidden box. The evening sky was adorned with stars as I carefully reopened the stone container.
To my astonishment, inside the box was an ancient-looking key and a worn parchment. The parchment contained a map leading to a place marked with the symbol of a tree. The mystery deepened.
Excitement surged through me. Determined to uncover the secrets hinted at by this unexpected discovery, I decided to embark on a journey, following the map that seemed to promise adventure and revelations.
The next morning, fueled by anticipation, I packed a small bag, donned my favorite jumper, and adjusted my eyeglasses. Sneaking out quietly, I started my quest, guided by the mysterious map and the prospect of unraveling a hidden story waiting to be told.
ALARM RINGING
"WHAT! It just a dream..." I pouted, how should I suppose to go to a journey alone.
3RD GRADE LEVEL
Back at school, the atmosphere seemed charged with tension as I encountered Chloe and Angela, the two contrasting figures in my school life. Their conflicting energies always added an element of unpredictability.
Chloe, with her cheerful demeanor, approached me during recess. "Lawrenz, want to join our drawing club after class? We're working on something exciting!"
Excited about the prospect of engaging in artistic endeavors, I gladly accepted her invitation. Little did I know that Angela, wearing her trademark pink jacket, had overheard the conversation.
As the school day unfolded, I found myself immersed in the world of sketches and colors with Chloe and our creative companions. The joy of artistic expression momentarily eclipsed the underlying tension.
However, as the final bell rang, Angela approached with a scowl on her face. "Why are you wasting your time with these art nerds, Lawrenz?" she sneered.
Chloe, not one to back down, retorted, "Art is about passion and expression, Angela. Something you might not understand."
The tension escalated, and soon I found myself caught in the middle of their verbal sparring. Angela's narrowed eyes locked onto me as she accused, "You've changed, Lawrenz. Hanging out with these weirdos."
Feeling the weight of the conflict, I tried to diffuse the situation. "I can have different interests, Angela. Art is just one of them."
The ongoing tension between Chloe and Angela mirrored the contrasts in my own interests – the artistic world colliding with the complexities of interpersonal dynamics. 
One sunny afternoon, after an eventful day at school, I eagerly waited for Mr. Kejin to pick me up. As the sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a stop, its luxurious presence stood out even among the other cars.
"Lawrenz Tybalt, your chariot awaits," Mr. Kejin grinned, opening the door with a flourish.
I stepped into the opulent interior, greeted by the scent of fine leather and the soft purr of the engine. Little did I know that this ride would mark the beginning of an unexpected encounter.
As we smoothly cruised through the city, enjoying the comforts of the Phantom, a sudden chill filled the air. I turned to see the unknown boy, a fellow third-grader, standing at the school gate. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
"Lawrenz Tybalt, living the high life, aren't we?" He sneered, casting a disdainful glance at the luxurious surroundings.
Surprised by the abrupt intrusion, I stammered, "Do I know you?"
He chuckled darkly, his resentment palpable. "We may not have met formally, Tybalt, but our paths are more intertwined than you think."
I have no time to know him as I get into the car. Therefore, I want to know who he is. When I saw him in the hallway, I following him and he entered to his room while reading manga. As I entered, the solitude of him is vivid in my eyes.
The air felt heavy with tension as I confronted him with a straightforward question, "What's your name?"
"Hey, fatty boy! I'm Nick Gregory, what brings you here piglet, there's no mud here..." he smirked, his words dripping with disdain. He came closer, pushing me in the shoulder with a force that surprised me.
"What's wrong with you, Nick?" I asked, perplexed by his hostility. However, he remained smirking, refusing to provide any clarity.
"This is all your fault, ugly pig!" he shouted vehemently, as if the walls themselves were echoing his anger. The accusation hung in the air, leaving me bewildered and seeking an explanation.
"Have you heard yourself? This is bullying," I responded, determined to address the toxicity of his words.
"Bullying?" he smirked again, his tone devoid of remorse. "I don't care. I will punish you til' the end of my breath."
As he spoke those chilling words, a realization dawned on me – Nick Gregory wasn't just angry; he seemed to be driven by something darker, something beyond the realm of typical schoolyard conflicts. His eyes betrayed a hint of madness, making me question the sanity of the boy standing before me.
Undeterred by the unsettling encounter, I left his dimly lit room with more questions than answers. The next day at school, the atmosphere seemed charged with an unspoken tension. Nick's presence loomed over me, casting a shadow even in the bustling halls.
I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to Nick Gregory's resentment than met the eye. 
"Who do you think are you to seek revenge? I never know you, why are you doing this?" I confronted him.
"I won't let you win, fat boy."
TO BE CONTINUED...