Xavier Uzual

My eyes opened to a familiar scene. Head down, staring at dying grass, backed against a dirty brick wall, crawling with honeysuckle weeds. Probably the back of a school building. I’ve long since forgotten where this familiar scene takes place. And I can’t be bothered to check. It doesn’t really matter anyways.

Standing before me, a crowd of schoolchildren. “Spazzy Xavy, Spazzy Xavy,” they said. “Spazzy Xavy, Spazzy Xavy.”

I was pelted, with juice boxes, and milk cartons, and handfuls of dirt, anything disposable you could expect an elementary school kid to get their hands on. I looked up, at the hive mind. In my memory, they were all faceless, now. Well, except for a few. But we’ll get to them in a bit.

They’re not relevant, yet.

As I looked up, a dash of sand and dirt struck my face, and my eyes. I yelped. They laughed.

“Spazzy Xavy! Spazzy Xavy! Spazzy Xavy--”

In an instant, the chant was silenced. The objects stopped. There was still sand in my eyes. I couldn’t tell who it was--

“Stop it.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Xylia said, “Stop it! Go away!”

Color slowly bled back into the scene. My sister’s younger form stood there, holding a tennis racket over her head. The crowd slowly backed away, with murmurs and insults that weren’t recorded in my memory.

“Are you okay?”

Slowly, I wiped the dirt out of my face and opened my eyes. Xylia pulled me to my feet. Before I could respond, a juice bottle struck the back of her head.

“Spazzy sister!” someone shouted. And the chants resumed.

But they didn’t bother my sister. That’s all that matters. She took my hand and pulled me away.

Then, she stopped.

In this dream, there’s only ever two faces in the crowd that I recognize. Xylia stopped, and stared at them. A girl with a birdish nose a round face, and a girl with dark green eyes and short braids. I don’t know anything about these two girls, not even their names.

But, I remember that they were Xylia’s friends. But here they were, chanting with the rest of them.

I looked at my sister’s face.

That was the first time I’d seen someone look so hurt.

Thursday, August 26, Early Morning

Xavier Uzual

I sat up. The apartment was dark. Outside the door, on the rickety old balcony, the sun hadn’t come up yet.

It was that dream, again.

I pulled the covers back up and laid back down on the couch. It’s not time to wake up, yet. Almost, but not yet. I could feel it.

Thinking back to that moment, I can say for certain that Xylia made the wrong choice. Standing up to those kinds of people just makes it worse. And, you’re putting a target on your own back.

The faces of those two girls, Xylia’s former friends, stuck out in my memory. She turned her friends against her. For my sake.

I did this.

I’ll be honest. I was happy, when she stood up for me. But I know that it was wrong of her to have done so.

I was happy that a six-year-old committed social suicide on my behalf.

I sat up and stared at the glass panes to the balcony. There I was, reflected in the glass. I covered my eyes, and rolled my head back. I can’t stand to look at you.

It was then, that my phone’s alarm went off. 6:10, exactly. I stepped onto the dirty, old carpet. Even after over an hour of vacuuming, I’d only been able to salvage so much. I’d try again today, I told myself. I poked my head into the apartment’s only bedroom and confirmed the sight of Xylia’s eagle-spread, sleeping form.

Time to cook breakfast.

I heated up a beat-up pan, one of the few cooking implements I’d found, and poured a bead of oil on its surface and rolled it around. The groceries I’d bought yesterday were neatly stacked in the fridge. I cracked two eggs with one hand. Xylia likes her eggs sunny-side-up with a dash of pepper.

But I hadn’t bought pepper. We had to be frugal; the unexpected shopping trip had left a larger hole in the budget than I was comfortable with. I apologized mentally and decided she would just have to make do.

For a moment, I considered asking old man Uzual for a temporary budget extension. The thought killed itself just as quickly. As if I’d stoop that low. No, he couldn’t pay me to ask for more money.

It was past 6:20 now. I cursed silently. I’d wasted more time than I thought I did. Placing two glasses of milk in the derelict microwave, I went to rouse Xylia.

“It’s so… so early…”

I ruffled Xylia’s hair. “Breakfast is almost ready. Go get changed.”

“But it’s so early…” she yawned, not letting go of the covers. “Why…?”

“We have to go meet the principal, remember? It’s the first day of school.” I struggled, to no avail, and thus ruffled her hair harder. “Hurry up and get up.”

“You’re messing up my hair.”

“It was already beyond saving.”

“I won’t be able to find a boyfriend.” She pouted.

“Good. Boyfriends are deceitful creatures.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ll never get to be one.”

I wriggled out of her grasp. “I’ll give you… fifteen minutes. Any longer I’m stealing your whipped cream.”

There we go. That got her moving. I lumbered back to the kitchen and pulled out a single kitchen knife and a few strawberries. With my other hand, beat a pair of eggs with a fork, and dipped the bread into them, then shook the cream, switching hands to retrieve the milk. With all that done, it was back to the knife.

I didn’t like the balance. The material in the handle was far lacking; the blade was dull, even though I hadn’t used it once. I sighed. But it was inexpensive, which is why I now owned it. Cutting the strawberries was the most trivial part of the morning. I would never admit it to the police, but I consider myself to be quite good with a (kitchen) knife.

Finally, the toast itself. I poured a bead of oil into the pan and dropped the bread into it.

On each of our first days of school, I would always splurge a bit and make french toast, with whipped cream and strawberries, just to make the incoming dark day a little brighter for her. A wry smile. Whipped cream is so bad for you. But I liked it just as much as she did. I shook the can and sprayed little puffs on her portion and stowed it. More for her, later.

“Morning…” It was 6:37. I should’ve eaten her french toast a minute ago. She showed up in some old school’s tennis uniform, sat down and started eating.

“Morning. Eat quickly,” I said, picking up my own plate of eggs. “What do you think the principal will think? Showing up to your new school wearing old school regalia?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Anyways, shouldn’t you get changed too?”

Thursday, August 26, Early Morning

Kotone Koizumi

The alarm rang. It rang, and rang, and rang, and would not shut up.

Jeez… just… give me five more minutes. Ten more? I can probably do ten. What time did I even set my alarm for, anyways?

I reached over with my left hand and patted for it. Where is it? My fingers felt something vaguely square-shaped. Good enough. Snooze. Snooze, already! Shut up, shut up-- I smacked it.

There was a loud crash. I jumped up. My eyes shot open. My body fell backwards. The back of my head smacked against the ground.

“Ow! Ow… what the…”

Behind me, my alarm clock was still going. My vision focuses to see my legs above my head. There was something poking at my back. My… chair. I was lying on top of my chair, on the ground.

Did I… fall asleep at my desk? I must’ve.

I rolled over, and slowly, found my footing and walked over to my night stand.

“Shut up…” The alarm clock obeyed. Good boy. I looked at its face. The time was 7:10. 50 minutes before school starts. Just like always. Good, I have time to--

I was suddenly struck with the sensation that I had forgotten something. I was working at my desk, right…? I turned back, opened my laptop, and keyed in the password. I-t-s-u-k-i-0-5-3-0-!

The screen flickered, then brightened.

Hey, Kotone,

Sorry, Kirsten flaked on us, so we need someone to take care of the Club Carnival budget stuff. Most Executive Council members have reporting in saying that they’ve got college applications, so I’m counting on you.

Review each club’s booth reimbursement request and split them into two groups: ones you think will be rejected, and ones you think should be tabled for later. Don’t forget, we don’t do pre-emptive reimbursement.

Carla

The booth proposals for Club Carnival. Oh, shoot, oh, shoot. Oh, jeez. I was supposed to have finished this last night. The Club Carnival is tomorrow.

I should shoot Carla a message. I tabbed away from the spreadsheet to my email. As an added perk, it also meant that I wouldn’t have to stare at my unfinished shame any longer.

Hey Carla,

I’ll have the Club Carnival paperwork done by this afternoon. Sorry about the delay. I messed something up yesterday.

Kotone

Messed something up… yeah. Leaned back against my chair. I gotta figure out why I keep misreading my emails. I mean, I know why, but…

A thought popped into my head. Are the contents of my emails… changing, and then changing back?

No, that’s ridiculous. Come on. Jeez, get it together, Kotone.

I hit send and returned to my inbox. I noticed that a gmail chat window was half open. That’s odd. I don’t remember chatting with anyone yesterday. Besides, there’s only one person I know that still uses Gmail chat, anyways.

I opened it.

It was a chat between myself and Olivia, one of my friends in the Hero Club. And the aforementioned only person I know who still uses this chat platform. She’s a sweet girl. Anyways, the last sent message was last night, at 11:24 PM.

But it was sent by me. Hold on. I have no memory of this conversation. Scrolling up, it seemed that Olivia had finished reading that manga I recommended. I think I’d remember someone telling me that, especially if it’d been less than 8 hours ago.

But… I didn’t.

Oh god… am I losing my mind? I swallowed.

It was only then that I realized that my head kind of hurt. Nothing serious, just a dull pain. I can work through this. I’ll be fine.

Okay, slow down, Kotone. Get ready for class. How much time is left?

It was almost 7:20 now. If it takes me 10 minutes to make it to school… shoot, I don’t actually have that much time.

My phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Kotone, where are you?” It was Leo.

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Where am I-- Oh my god. The new students.” I was supposed to get there early and help show around the new students. I totally forgot.

“Yeah, uh, they’re right here.”

I cleared my throat. It felt kind of scratchy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there. Can you, um, shoot--”

Leo said, “It’ll be okay. I’ll handle it.”

Shoot, shoot, shoot. “I’m so sorry. I’ll--”

“Take your time. ‘Sokay, ‘sokay. I’ll talk to you more later.”

“Right…” I said. “Hey, Leo.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a laugh over the phone. “Don’t be!”

I snapped my phone shut. My hand went limp, dangling from my shoulder; the phone clattered to the ground. Dammit! I grabbed a pillow and flung it against the door.

No, stop it. Keep it together. You’re not a child, Kotone. I walked over and put it back.

I’ll be okay. Keep it together.

I took a deep breath. Time to get ready for school.