Los Angeles - Milo

Obviously, if you’re reading this from my perspective then you might not think I’m any other innocent six-year-old. You could probably figure that out purely by the fact that I know the word “innocent”. What I know just shouldn’t be in my brain, yet it’s there. But only in my mind - on the outside, I still look and sound like a child… Unable to express the knowledge in my head.

Sometimes I feel like my mind has experienced other things that my body hasn’t. What those things are, however, I may never know.

- -

The school day continued exactly like all the others: about an hour of reading following about an hour of writing, followed by little group projects that lead to lunch and recess. Then math and science followed by even more math, and then the day ends with waiting for my dad to pull up and drive me home.

That’s where I was at this point: sitting on a bench near the school, watching everyone else walk home or unlock their bikes from a metal rack until I was the only one left.

For the last time that day I heard the doors of my elementary school open, and I looked behind me expecting to see a teacher leaving, but it was the very last student: Liz. She skipped by the automatic doors, watching curiously as they slid back as she walked forward. She kept hopping along in search of something, her long blonde hair like a cape to a very energetic superhero. It was strange watching her skip along the sidewalk with such a smile on her face, after watching her all day hiding under her desk. It was funny, she reminded me of myself.

She peeked around - probably looking for her parents - and she noticed me watching her from the comfort of my bench. “Oh,” she said, “hi!”

I waved, still keeping one eye open for when my dad arrived “Hi.”

“You’re Milo, right? I heard your name in class when the boys were talking to you.” She dropped her stuff on a neighboring bench and sat down, obviously planning on staying there for a while.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “and you’re Liz?”

“Yeah!” She gave a friendly grin. “So you’re six?”

“Six and a half,” I corrected, “How about you?”

“The same.” She said, but the statement ended in closed teeth.

We sat in silence for a long time, and I glazed my eyes over to her every now and then - simply out of curiosity. She would occasionally stand up off the bench and look around at the city as if it were her first time to see it. Also, she was almost always gripping the glowing red bracelet that looped around her left wrist.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” I eventually gained the courage to say, “how does it glow?”

“Magic,” She joked in response, forcing her right hand to leave the bracelet out of embarrassment. I laughed nervously because I couldn’t really tell if she was joking or not. I couldn’t see any light-bulbs inside, but I didn’t want to ask any further.

“So what’s up with you?” She asked after more silence. “During class, everyone else was running around and yelling, but you were quiet. Do you not like to play?”

“I...” I didn’t know how to respond. I looked down at the ground, thinking about it for a few seconds. “I guess I don’t see a point in playing. Not when it’s safer to watch from afar.”

“Safety,” She laughed quietly to herself, muttering something else to herself I couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“Ah, nothing,” she said, looking back at me with a blinding grin. “What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?”

It bothered me a little how many questions she had for me, but I answered nonetheless: “My dad is making me learn how to fence. I like it a lot.”

“Fencing?”

“Yeah, it’s like... with swords.”

“That sounds fun,” She floated back down to her bench, swinging her legs back and forth. “Are you good?”

I looked back at her, confused. “Good at what?”

“Fencing.”

“Oh yeah,” I laughed, obviously paying more attention to where my dad was than the conversation. “Yeah, my dad thinks I’m really good. There aren’t any other students my age that are in a fencing class, so it’s either my dad or the teacher that trains with me.” She nodded along, listening closely to what I told her.

“Well, maybe I’ll join you. Friends are important, you know.” With that, she stood up and hopped on top of the chair, waving a pencil at me like it was a staff.

“I demand that you be my friend!” She ordered, hopping down and touching both my shoulders with the pencil.

“I would love to.” We both laughed, and our quick moment of friendship was interrupted by the honking of a car.

My dad’s car.

“Heeeeeey, Kiddo!” My dad yelled from his convertible, sunglasses and all. “Ready to bounce?”

“Oh, no,” I muttered, waving goodbye to Liz as I opened the door. “Not a single word, Dad.”

“Oh, was I supposed to say something?” He lowered his sunglasses a little and raised an eyebrow. I laughed, and we left the school.