Double Edge | WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST + AMBYS 2023 WINNER

Chapter 22

September 4th, 2009

Standing in the backyard of Kriller Elementary, the sounds of excited kids should've had my attention. My mom said I was supposed to make friends. Be nice. But I didn't want to. My dad barked at me before leaving for work, and I didn't need that. I didn't want it. When I grew up, I planned to be better.

There were too many years for that...

But those birds? The ones soaring in the sky? I could be them. So, as the kids excitedly walked around and waited for the teachers to escort us inside, I watched the pigeons. They were dirty rats with wings, yeah, but they didn't care. They were up there enjoying the sun, flying around; free. They lived their best life. Who said you needed to have a lot to be your best?

"Um," a kid came beside me, "is this the line for room 103?"

Adjusting my backpack, I looked down at the boy with wild hair and a bright red shirt. We wore uniforms; didn't he know? He was going to get in trouble. I blinked at him. "It is, but," I looked at his clothes, "they're going to yell at you."

His eyes widened. "Me? Why? Oh no, what did I do?"

Oh, man, he looked scared. Was he new? It didn't matter, right? Getting in trouble for a shirt was stupid, anyway.

The doors to the school opened. Teachers slowly made their way out onto the concrete playground. Excited kids quickly returned to their places, patiently waiting for their homeroom teacher to take them away. I looked back at the kid with the red shirt and shook my head. "You're wearing the wrong color," I hissed.

"Color?" He looked down at his shirt. "Oh, no, my mom said—"

The teacher was coming. I glanced up as the older man with short, grey hair approached our group. But it looked like he didn't see us. He focused on the papers in his hands. I looked back at the kid as I let my backpack slide to the ground. "Here." Quickly shimmying the shoulder straps off my arms, I unzipped my uniform sweater and handed it to him. He blinked at it before touching it. "Take it," I said. "Zip it up, wear it, hide the shirt."

"But," he looked at me with sad eyes, "what about you? It's yours."

"Just put it on." I scooped up my backpack and put it back on. "I have the right shirt on. I didn't need the sweater. My mom said I needed it."

"Will she be mad?" he asked.

The teacher came closer. He slowly lifted his head, searching his classroom. Just as his eyes could've landed on us, kids cut in front of us, so we were no longer in front. Cool. It meant he couldn't see. Looking back at the kid, I shook my head. "She'll get over it," I hissed, "so just put it on and give it back tomorrow or something."

"Room 103!" the teacher called. That was the horn the kid needed. Quickly dropping his backpack, he pushed his arms into the sweater's sleeves and pulled the zipper up to his neck so fast he nicked himself. He whimpered and closed his eyes, but he was in 'uniform' when the teacher stood in front of the class; his eyes passed over us, and saw nothing wrong. "All right, the first day of school! Everyone ready?"

A chorus of "Yes!" echoed. I glanced back at the kid as our room's line started to move. "My name's Gio," I said. "Are you new?"

"Yeah," smiling, he pointed at his chest, "and I'm Mark. Thanks for helping me."

"Sure, but thanks for taking the sweater." I followed the kids in front of us, keeping close but still far back.

"Why?" Mark kept up with my stride. "It's yours."