Free Hot Property (Kingston Bros.) by Tamara Larson

what he expected. He was an outsider there. The other kids thought he was weird and the teachers had strange ideas about treating everyone the same. It was a confusing place where he didn't know the rules. As much as he wanted to fit in he was always a bit out of sync with what was considered normal. As a result, the other children and even most of the teachers avoided talking to him. It didn't help that his education was so advanc ed compared to his classmates.
    At the age of nine, he could quote Nietzsche with ease and had already memorized the Periodic Table of Elements and all its components. Complicated quadratic equations were well within his grasp and as a result he was understandably bored when presented with gold stars for completing his multiplication tables. He was moved up two grades, but this just alienat ed him further from his peers.
    It didn't help that his grandfather insisted that he stay away from anyone who was not their kind. He was fanatical about his grandson not becoming tainted by any unsavory elements, which to him meant anyone of non- Slavic descent. The trouble was that the boy couldn't always tell who was superior and who wasn't. Skin and hair color, he'd learned, weren't always reliable indicators. One little boy in his class had golden hair and green eyes, just like him, but his last name was Lopez, so he couldn't be a member of the Master Race. Another olive-skinned girl had the unfortunate name of Olga Schmidt, a German -sounding name, but according to his grandfather this child was an impersonator and a fake.
    There were so many rules regarding how to tell if someone was suitable or not. He didn't really understand how his grandfather was able to tell the difference so easily. The old man insisted that as the boy grew older he would come to recognize their kind. As he matured, so would his ability to distinguish the pur e-breeds from the mixed breeds.
    The one time he had brought home a playmate from school his grandfather had barred the door with his cane and screamed at him to not let that 'little Jew ' in his house because he'd 'stink up the place and steal the silverware.' According to his grandfather, all Jews thought about was making money and scheming to cheat people out of what was rightfully theirs. Henry, his one and only friend, didn't even have a big nose and his family was dirt poor, so obviously he didn't fit the profile. Yet his grandfather was certain he was Jewish . It didn't make any sense to the boy. Henry had only wanted to check out the boy's comic collection, not steal anything. But the severe beating and subsequent two days in the cellar that followed Henry's visit had convinced the boy that it was better to err on the side of caution. So he began avoiding everyone, keeping to himself and inwardly seething at his inability to distingui sh his tribe from these others.
    He quickly became accustomed to being an outsider. He'd felt hurt and lonely for awhile, but eventually it became obvious to him that his grandfather was right. He was a superior specimen and the other children were just jealous of his superhuman qualities. That was why they avoided him, not because he was strange. They couldn't relate to him because he was practically a different species from them. He was more evolved than they could comprehend. He was meant for greatness while they were just a bunch of brainless little mutts. It was so hard, treating them like equals when he knew they were hopelessly b eneath him.
    Every once in awhile he slipped and let his contempt for his classmates show. Usually these slips resulted in some form of cruel and violent behavior on his part. This latest incident had involved Tommy Mulligan calling him a queer because he was always so neatly groomed. His grandfather had explained exactly what the term meant when he told the boy the story of how he had come to live with the old man five years earlier. His mother had abandoned them when she discovered her husband preferred