My phone alarm wailed, cutting through the semi-silence of the room.  I crossly tugged it toward me by the charging cord and turned it off, the obnoxious sound still pounding in my ears.  Taking a deep breath, I tried to force myself to my feet, only to collapse back down with a jarring thud.  No resistance.  Just gravity taking me down.  A sliver of wood pierced my knee and I picked it out crossly, then licked my thumb and pressed it to the bead of blood that blossomed in the splinter’s place.  The bleeding stopped almost immediately.  I ran my hands along my legs, trying to gather my thoughts, and stiffened at the bare flesh on my thigh.

I let out a shaky exhale as I remembered that the empty sheath was posing as a bookmark and Chann had my blades.  I shivered slightly; I needed to go to the bathroom, but…  five more minutes.  Just five more minutes of sleep.  I pulled my pillow close with a sigh, ready to snatch a few more minutes of rest, but my bladder rebelled.  Groaning, I forced myself to my feet, and the area between my legs immediately seared with agony, the muscles spasming in protest.  I had to get to the bathroom before they gave out on me.

I grabbed my sheath and clothes and stumbled down the flight of stairs to the second floor, headed for the bathroom.  Ashley was chatting with two women – one with enlarged breasts and the other with tear-smeared makeup – just outside of it.  He leered at them, practically drooling, until the women’s attention turned from him to me.  While they were startled by my full nakedness, Ashley merely broke out laughing.

“I knew it was bad, but seeing it in the light!”  He wheezed for breath around his guffaws.  “Oh, man!  Thanks for the laugh, slut; now my day’s off to a good start!  Right, Tushie?”  He smacked one of the women on the butt and she nodded enthusiastically, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Ashley.  Do try and control yourself.”  Lance swept around the corner, his dark eyes surveying me with his usual calculating disinterest.  He said nothing to me, but he did beckon Ashley and the women away from the bathroom door for me.  I ducked inside, dropped my clothes on the floor, and sank onto the toilet with a groan.  Even though nobody could see me, I was mortified that I was so weak, I had to pee sitting down.  When I felt steady enough to stand, I slipped the elastic sheath into place on my thigh, got dressed, and tossed a few handfuls of water onto my face.  I shuddered at the cold but continued to rub my face, with my hands and then my towel, until it felt clean and glowing.  I was just about to put the towel back on its hook to dry when the door slammed open.

“Time’s up, faggot!  The ladies gotta powder their noses.”

Ashley made a grab at the scruff of my neck as I dodged past him, reaching one hand up to guard my throat should the collar suddenly jerk against it.  Retreating back into my room, I tried to breathe deeply.  I arranged my backpack, doing my best to ignore the growing stiffness in my body, then gave up and sprawled on the floor.  Not long after, a woman’s voice raised in a desperate whine, accompanied by Ashley’s yelping encouragement.  I groaned; the last thing I wanted to hear was more degrading sex noise.  It helped me work up the motivation to get off the floor.  My body ached everywhere and my bag felt like it was made of concrete, so heavy that I let it bump on the stairs behind me instead of carrying it.  I yawned loudly.

“Mirai.”

I broke off mid-yawn to face Sharqiq.  I inclined my head in acknowledgment, obediently avoiding his gaze.  Lance was standing just behind him in his usual place, eyes closed, merely present.

“I need you back here at exactly seven p.m. tonight.  Not a minute before, not a minute later.  Do you hear me?”

I nodded.

“Good.  Give me a hug then get out.”

I tentatively approached him and wrapped my arms around him.  He didn’t hug me back.  When he let me leave, I almost fell over in my rush to get to the door.  I was tempted to get my earbuds out, but that would mean stopping and probably crouching, and I didn’t want to risk being unable to get up.  Besides, after months of being in that house, even the buzzing of cicadas sounded good to me.  I drank in the hot morning air – it burned the inside of my nose, but it was better than the stuffy recycled air I’d been breathing all summer – and let myself get lost in the sounds of breezes and leaves until I reached the cemetery.

“Hey, Mirai!”

I felt myself smile for the first time in months as the familiar Scouse accent washed over me.  Chann was waiting for me, just like he said he would.  I barely had time to wave to him before he cannonballed into me, wrapping me in a huge hug.

“Hey, mate!  I haven’t seen you all summer; how’ve you been?!”

I tilted my hand in the so-so gesture.

“Well, at least it wasn’t all bad.  Now that I’m back from holiday, things are bound to look up, right?”

I nodded and smiled.

“Oh, before I forget:  I brought you breakfast!”

I fake-gagged as Chann handed me a big silver Thermos.  I could already smell the Boost.  Its taste was far from appealing, but Chann wasn’t going to let me off until I finished it, so I drank it down fast.  He’d chilled it and given me a straw, just like I liked.  Each swallow was like a brick punching into my tender, hunger-shrunken stomach.  Still, it satisfied my hunger cramps.  He then produced two plastic sticks of honey, which I happily began sucking on to clear the taste out of my mouth.

“Good job, champ.  I know you’re not wild about it, but it’s a quick way to get you the calories you need.  Easier and faster than making you eat a full English brekkie on the go, yeah?”

I shrugged and chuckled.  We walked side-by-side until a heart-aching sight came into view.  I sprinted towards it, leaving Chann behind.  I threw myself onto the ground between the two gravestones, relishing the feel of the grass beneath me.  I spread my fingers through it, huffing in the clear air, then straightened into a sitting position between them.  I rested my cheek on Aba-san’s grave and laid a hand on Ima’s.  

“Mr. and Mrs. C, you’re looking great today,” Chann commented warmly.  “I think your lad missed you.”  He sat down in front of me, his green eyes twinkling with their usual humor.  “Here are your knives,” he said, lowering his voice so no one would overhear, “and Yakov and Ariel have your swords.  They get back from Israel Friday morning.”

Chann handed me the stack of knives, carefully concealed in a faux-leather holder, and I clutched it close to my chest.  Glancing around to make sure we were alone, I took the largest knife out, slipped it into the sheath on my thigh, and pocketed the rest.  My sense of security renewed as soon as all my blades were in place.

“I’m ready to go when you are.  Take all the time you need.”

I studied my parents’ graffiti-covered stones, absentmindedly rubbing my thumb along the maroon swastika painted over Ima’s name.  As much as I wanted to stay, it’d be better to go to school.  If I stayed, I would have trouble standing again, or get absorbed in trying to scrub off the graffiti (a futile task), or become overwhelmed with memories…  Forcing myself to let go of the stones, I signed for Chann.

Chann’s green eyes glimmered with understanding.  “We can come back whenever you want.  Later, Mr. and Mrs. C,” he continued in a louder voice.  He fist-bumped Aba-san's stone and bowed to Ima's.  I lingered between them a bit longer, wishing they were standing beside me instead of buried six feet under.

“They’re watching over you,” Chann assured me.  “You don’t have to be here at the cemetery for them to see you.”

I nodded and started to get to my feet.  My legs shuddered and I grabbed Aba-san’s stone to keep from falling.  Chann was instantly beside me, swinging my bag over his shoulder and holding out his arm for me.  My ears burned with embarrassment.  I refused to hold onto his arm; instead, I stood between the gravestones until I felt more solid on my feet.  When I felt I could walk, I was still shaky and uncertain.  Chann wove around me, ready to catch me if I fell.

“Almost there.  You’ll be sitting down soon enough.”

Pulaski-Nunes High School came into view about ten minutes after we left the cemetery.  It was a strange building, sporting most of its original construction as well as modern extensions.  We were early, just like we always were, so the greens were empty.  I could picture them full of soon-to-arrive students:  couples making out, groups of girls squealing as if they hadn’t seen each other in months even though they’d spent all summer together, the sports teams loudly boasting to each other, most everyone taking selfie after selfie as they complained about having to come back to school.

We spent nearly a half-hour enjoying the silent, empty halls.  Strength slowly returned to my legs and Chann cracked constant jokes to cheer me up.  We were admiring last year’s award-winning art projects – my photo of a sunset at Skidaway Islands was among them – when a painfully-familiar voice called out to us.

“Hey, faggot!”