The day that it all started was like any other Thursday. Except it wasn’t Thursday. In fact, it wasn’t even Wednesday. It was a Tuesday when it all started. Tuesday, October 9th, 2018 to be specific.

A boy drenched from the weather outside came down the hallway, the squeaking of his sneakers the only sound heard as everyone watched in silence. I’m not sure if this is the first time I saw Henry, but it is the first time I noticed him. His curls stuck to his forehead, and he dripped puddles onto the floor as he walked to wherever he was meant to be. No one mentioned how the storm seemed to have followed him in, and once he turned at the end of the hallway everyone burst into chatter, the boy forgotten.

Henry grumbled to himself, pulling his sleeves further over his hands as he stalked to his locker. So the period of unluckiness continues. Yesterday his bike broke, which meant he had to walk today. Today it was raining, which the forecast gave no warning of. And this week of all weeks. Could he catch a break?

He twisted the combination to his locker and it opened on the first try. He gave a dry laugh. Of course it does. He made quick work of grabbing the books he needed for his next couple of classes and shoved them in his bag. A drawstring bag containing his gym clothes hung inside. Should he wear wet clothes, or the school assigned short shorts and tank top? Of which are in the school colors, of course.

He closed his locker. He’s better off not risking it. He clicked his phone on, the time displaying as 8:05 am. Luckily, the rain didn’t make him late, and he started walking towards the bathroom. With it being his last year, school didn’t start as early as it used to. No more math, no more english; the only thing that mattered this year was your label. He pulled his sleeves down further.

Pushing the door open, he immediately grabbed paper towels after setting his bag down. He cleaned his glasses and tried to dry his hair as best he could with the cheap towel, but his hair was still matted to his forehead, soon to be a frizzy mess once it dried.

The bathroom door opened and he looked down, about to grab his bag when the person rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Henry? Are you okay?”

He looked up, a face almost identical to his own reflected back at him and shrugged off her hands. “It’s only a little rain. What are you doing in here?” He paused, then continued. “You do realize this is the guy’s bathroom, right?”

Amanda, his twin sister, older by three minutes, although it might as well be three years with how she always acted around him. She rolled her eyes. “Becca told me you were in here.” He didn’t bother asking who Becca was. “You should’ve asked for a ride or something. I would’ve given you one.”

“I didn’t think it would rain.”

“It wasn’t supposed to. Some villain with weather powers or whatever.” She shook her head. “But that’s not important. Do you have dry clothes or something?”

“No. Unless you count the gym clothes.”

She made a face. “Well, at least take off the jacket—”

“No.” She raised her brows and he started over. “I don’t have any other long sleeves, and I—” He gestured to his wrist.

“Okay, um… I’ll be right back.” She raced out of the bathroom, leaving Henry alone.

It didn’t take long for her to come back, although it was long enough that he doubted if she would come back at all. She held something in her hands, and as she got closer he recognized it as a roll of bandage.

“Take off your jacket.”

He frowned but did as she said, unzipping and shrugging it off, The jacket slapped onto the tile where he dropped it.

She walked over and started wrapping his wrist. He never noticed the yellow stain on the ceiling before.

She backed up. “You’re good.”

His wrist was wrapped up, nothing visible beneath the bandage. He had a cloth wrap that normally covered it, but it tore this morning, and he didn’t have enough time to figure something else out. Just another item added onto his terrible week.

“Are you good?”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at her and smiling. “Yeah. I’m fine. You should head to class.”

She gave him a look that he had seen so many times before. The one that said, ‘I don’t believe you, and I’m going to keep giving you this look until you eventually tell me’.

He waved her off. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

She left, but the look didn’t leave her face until she was out of his sights, and for all he knew not even then.

He grabbed his things and left the bathroom, dropping his jacket off at his locker before heading for class. Advanced Story Structure. It was the only class he had that was beyond the intro level, and the only reason was that it’s something he’s actually interested in. After freshman year, labels were split up and given specialized classes. So all Henry had been learning about was how to be a good side character.

Always put your main character before yourself, keep the plot moving forward, do whatever it took for the main character to succeed… It made him nauseous. That’s not what he wanted. Why would anyone want that?

He flopped into his desk when he entered the classroom, his clothes making a wet slapping noise against the chair. He placed his head onto the desk, giving a deep sigh, ignoring all the other students that began to enter and sit around him.

The teacher entered, Mrs. Zaxby, and he mustered up the strength to lift his head off of the desk as she began speaking.

“Alright,” she clapped her hands together, and the chatter died down as everyone faced front. “We’re starting a new unit for Act III. Now some of you may think that the most important stuff happens in the middle, in the meat of the story. But the last act is where everything is tied up. All the loose ends, everything your main character has been working towards is coming to a finish. It’s the climax. Today’s lesson,” she glanced at Henry, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him, “is going to begin with some tips on how to do your role as a side character, and keep your main character safe and on task so they can return home.”

He dropped his head down on the desk. He really must be unlucky, even his favorite class was ruined.

“Henry.”

He stopped from leaving the room, his other classmates all moving past him and out the door.

Mrs. Zaxby leaned against her desk, waiting until they all file out before speaking. “I was going to tell you about it this morning, but you didn’t show up.”

She was the only adult that really knew him; not even his parents knew. She knew how he didn’t like his role, and while she’s tried to encourage him to give being a side character a chance, she hasn’t discouraged his fascination with being a main character either.

“I know. My bike broke and so I had to wake up earlier and walk. I didn’t have time.”

“That’s alright. I hope you get your bike fixed.” She turned around and scribbled on something on her desk, which she tore out and handed to him. “There’s your last pass.”

He looked at the clock on the wall. “I still have enough time to make it to my next class…”

“Why don’t you take your time getting there.” She smiled before walking around her desk and sitting down, her focus no longer on him.

The writing on the paper weighed him down. She fudged the time on when he left, giving him a whole class period to ‘take his time’. He went to the library where I was writing at the time, although he didn’t know that, and he sat in a bean bag chair. An hour nap couldn’t hurt, right? He’ll wake up in time for his next class.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but he didn’t wake up in time for his next class, or any of the others after that. I may have been there the entire day, out of curiosity. The final bell went off and I kicked him as I walked past.

He jolted up when there’s a jab in his side, but whoever did it has already left. He took out his phone and cursed. School is over. He slept the entire day away. How is it possible to be able to sleep so much? Not to mention that there were at least a dozen notifications from Amanda wondering where he went. He scrolled through them, swiping them all away before pocketing his phone. He’ll see her later.

After dumping his books off at his locker, he stepped outside and was met with the glaring sun. He shaded his eyes with his hand. Could whoever’s controlling the weather give a nice day? Maybe some clouds, a calm breeze even.

As if on cue, a gust of wind barreled into him and would have knocked him down the stairs if he hadn’t grabbed onto the railing. Luckily, or unluckily, that’s the last shred of wind for the rest of the walk.

He was halfway home, marked by the billboard displaying the new story from one of the Reyno family members, when he placed his jacket on top of his head to keep cool. Henry rolled his eyes at the billboard. He didn’t even wanna know what it’s about, seeing as the horse that was let loose in a hospital because of it was on the news for months, and that’s probably the most interesting thing in that pile of garbage.

I may have included that bit for my benefit, any Reyno supporters can put this book back on the shelf.

He was heading up the walkway to his house not long after that, his bike lying against the side of the house, the chain hanging where it broke. He nudged it with his foot when he stopped at the door, and it fell over completely, making a huge rattling noise.

The door in front of him opened, the doorknob getting wrenched out of his grip, and his mother stood there.

“Hi.” He waved his hand, sheepish.

She sighed and shook her head before moving aside to let him inside. She didn’t say anything to him as he went upstairs, but he was used to that. His parents stopped caring when they realized that he didn’t care. Granted, they didn’t know why, but it was obvious enough.

He dropped his bag on the ground and fell back onto his bed. Today had to have been the worst day in history.

You’ll have to forgive him, he’s a bit dramatic at times.

He rubbed his eyes and frowned when his wrist itched.

Normally he wouldn’t have this problem, but considering the bandage Amanda gave him wasn’t meant to be worn for long periods of time, not to mention after sweating in the sun, he was going to have to unwrap his wrist.

He sighed before undoing it. As each layer unraveled the black stain began to show through until there’s nothing covering it at all.

A shield. That was what’s on his wrist. It’s inked in completely, save for the ampersand that made for the shield’s crest. Some people considered it a privilege. You’re the first line of defense, the protection. But all it was to him was a blemish; a stain. A mark on his existence forever.

It may be great to be a character and get to live out whatever fantasy you wished. But what wasn’t great was having your fate chosen for you since birth. And the real consequences because of them. All the stories you’ve read were reality. This is Henry’s.