The sun is ruthless today. It glares down, burning the soccer field into cracked dust and patchy grass. The wind doesn’t bother showing up. It’s just heat, stretching on and on, till the ends of Alvecore.

  I blink sweat out of my eyes. Across the field, the boys laugh and shove each other, full of energy. The girls shift awkwardly, their ponytails damp against their backs.

  "Alright, teams! Play fair!" Miss Vesper sings out, clapping her hands together like we’re all about to perform a beautiful piece of music instead of chase after a ball in this unbearable heat. She teaches music, not gym, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing us into ‘healthy competition’ whenever she gets the chance. She believes it builds character. I believe she’s never played a game in her life.

  Boys vs. girls. Brilliant idea.

  I stretch my arms, glancing at my position. Goalkeeper. Of course. No one cares what I’m good at, just where they can stick me so they don’t have to deal with me. Goalkeeper is perfect for that. No one likes the role anyway.

  The whistle blows. The game begins.

  I don't care.

  It’s been two years. Two long years in this school. I haven’t made a single friend. I haven’t tried. They haven’t tried. That’s fine. I don’t need them.

  Instead, I study. There’s nothing else to do. It keeps my mind busy, keeps me from thinking about what used to be. About Cherry. About Zett. About Klev. About Vortex. About the life that feels more like a dream the longer I stay here.

  Someone shouts. A blur of motion.

  The ball soars past me, straight into the net.

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  Goal.

  The girls groan. The boys cheer.

  I barely have time to pick up the ball before she storms towards me.

  I recognize her instantly. Nessa. Too old to be in this class, but here anyway. She’s bigger, taller, meaner. She pushes through the other girls, her face twisted in disgust.

  "Are you stupid?" she yells. Her voice is worse than the heat. "You just stood there!"

  I don’t respond.

  She steps closer. "Useless. Dumb. Hopeless. What are you even good for?"

  Her hands shove my shoulders, and I hit the ground. Hard.

  The dust stings my palms. I hear laughter. I hear whispers.

  None of it crushes me.

  Not the fall. Not the words.

  Instead, it wakes me up.

  They are looking at me.

  I feel it, like a string inside me, stretched too thin, finally snapping.

  I push myself up. My heartbeat is steady. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.

  I hit her.

  My fist connects with her face. A sharp, solid impact.

  She staggers back. Gasps. Hands fly to her mouth. Blood.

  I breathe in. Deep.

  That felt good.

  The world moves fast after that. Teachers shouting. Hands pulling me away. The game forgotten. The cheers, the jeers—none of it matters.

  Then—

  The car.

  I sit in the back seat, tracing the window pane, as the buildings blur past.

  "You just let her do this?" My mother barks, less than womanly looking right now.

  "I’m not saying it was right, but—"

  "Three teeth, Daniel! Three! Do you have any idea how serious that is?"

  A sigh. "I know, I know. But maybe if we just—"

  "If we what? If we ignore it? This is unacceptable! She needs to understand that!"

  I press my forehead against the glass, rubbing the bruises on my knuckles.

  My father exhales through his nose, a little exasperated, a little amused. "Just calm down, alright?”

  He peaks at me through the rear view, “We’re heading to the orphanage. Rose invited us."

  I blink.

  The orphanage.

  The heat inside me cools. My face neutral, my voice steady. "Oh."

  Just one word.

  Then the question rises.

  Will they notice me now?