The same dirty street, the same stench in the air. The same sense of danger and the same body that was not her own. The scene that passed behind Aiva’s lids elicited a feeling of de ja vu within her. A fear settled in her stomach.

              She couldn’t remember why she was here. Wasn’t she supposed to be in her bed back at school? But somehow that didn’t feel right either.

              The feet of this body were large and tied into sneakers. They were heavy and made a dull steady sound against the pavement as the body moved. She wanted to stand still, to figure out what was going on, but the more effort into stopping the body Aiva gave, the more her consciousness slipped away.

              The reason he was here came back to the surface of his memory. Earlier that day there had been a phone call from people who somehow knew about his powers. The woman on the phone had said he was in danger. After that, he had found a note stuffed in his work locker. They had information for him, information that would keep him alive. The folded paper said to meet at the corner of Avidya and Vipka.

              But no! Aiva fought. That can’t be right, wrongness wriggled in her gut. She faded again into the background as she tugged at the stubborn limbs.

              Lenka could feel eyes on him but he knew that was impossible. Flexing his power to make sure that if someone looked his way, they would see Nothing. Still, he could not shake the feeling.

              A small group of people stood head and he allowed his paranoia to get the best of him. The light hum of the street diminished as Lenka took an abrupt turn into an alleyway to avoid them completely. Away from eyes that should not have been able to see him regardless. Even with no one around the feeling remained. He tried to relax but it was a failed attempt to nullify the fear which coiled in his core.

              Aiva took a shuddering breath and tried to run. Their dread mirrored now.

              The note had said that there’d be someone waiting here from him; he couldn’t stay Nothing forever if he had any hopes of claiming that life saving intel for himself. So despite the apprehension that gnawed in his gut, Lenka allowed his form to take weight again as he stepped farther into the shadows. His body’s movements contradicting his mind’s reassurances.

              Pain burgeoned from Aiva’s back and she cried out, though no sound passed his lips. The body that was not her own fell and she felt the impact over the uneven ground. As she lost her concentration she came to herself fully. The hurt was unbearable and she screamed within his mind.

              She did not know where she was or why she was there. She could hear nothing, not even the beat of a heart. So the squelching sound of the Knife as it pulled from his back grated across her senses almost more than the pain itself.

              She barely felt the foot under his side, used to roll the body over. And then she was looking up into the killer’s face. The light from the street lamp reflected off his glasses.

              “Thank you for making this easy.”

***

              Aiva woke with the familiar voice ringing in her ears. Three alarms playing different tunes resounded into the early morning. Her roommates were already at the vanity. Her third week of schooling and she still wasn’t used to this way of life.

              The first couple of days at her new school had been uneventful, though everything was so different that it became a constant adventure. It seemed to her like there was always movement. Always noise. She’d no time at all to herself to read.

              The kids during classes were always fidgeting. Bouncing their legs up and down, balancing pencils across their noses, drumming fingers across keyboards and upon desktops, bobbing their heads to music only they could hear. All of this created an almost audible hum.

              Aiva constantly felt overwhelmed, which was not helped by her wheelchair. Her cousins took her from class to class. It was awkward being pushed through the hallways with backpacks hitting her in the head and fellow students tripping over her. No one ever apologized but Aiva assumed they weren’t aware it was happening—or that she was even there.

              On the first day all the classes had been much the same; introductions and discussions about the syllabuses. Most of her classmates grew catatonic by the end. Aiva however sat in awe, for she didn’t only watch the other children; she watched the teachers as well.

              She had not realized there were so many different types of people out in the world. Let alone that so many of them could become educational professionals. Like old rickety Mr. Medlock, the English teacher whose voice sounded quietly across the room like sandpaper scraped across a wooden surface, so the class had to hold its breath at the beginning of each sentence.

              Or the flamboyant Monsieur Basil, who’s words rang out musically.

              Marring the experience was the constant comparison to the quiet, yet interactive way that Miss Juliet had taught. Teachers lectured to the rhythm of graphite scraping over paper. Miss Juliet had never done it that way. Aiva made herself homesick by yearning for the old ways the one class she found harkened to the past was French. Monsieur Basil reminded Aiva of her former teacher with his enthusiasm.

              On that day he blew through the door like a fresh spring breeze, a contradiction against the overcast autumn outside their classroom windows. He went to the board and scrawled a term that Aiva had never seen before.

              Pen pals.

              Whispering broke out in small clusters around the desks as the teacher tapped on his own with a rolled up magazine.

              “Bonjour, ma petite quenellas!”

              “Bonjour Monsieur Basil,” the class recited.

              “Aiva you must work on your pronunciation!” He laughed good naturedly. “We, children, will be running a pen pal program with the French branch of this very school! Isn’t that tres impressionnant?”

              He explained the assignment as the students continued to chatter with excitement.

              Pen pals? What a strange concept. Miss Juliet had taught her the correct format for letter composition. But the girl had never thought to actually utilize this skill and write to someone. She wondered about what she would talk about, toying with different ideas. Her mind couldn’t wander far. Once Monsiuer Basil finished introducing the project he launched right into the day’s lesson, much to the consternation of his class.

              Lunch followed French. Elaine made sure to help her through the line, then led her into the thick of student bodies. Aiva was placed at a table amongst more cousins, all of whom ignored her. Per the norm. at least some things stayed the same. Elaine was nice enough to sit with her the first few days—but quickly made friends outside of their many family members—unlike Aiva.

              With nothing to distract her the strange dream drifted to the surface of her thoughts. Her memory went back to the body which was not her own, back to the feeling of the Knife, and the haunting voice.

              The noise level around her increased and her head began to pound. Sick of the useless banter and the circling thoughts, she wheeled herself away from them. No one moved aside or seemed to notice her passage as she pushed her way through the crowd of torsos until she spotted an empty table.

              She balanced her tray precariously atop her knees as she maneuvered herself slowly, but without incident to it. As she made it she pulled out her inhaler, huffing on it. To rid her mouth of the bitter taste of the medication upon her tongue she gulped down her juice. Glad to be alone—without witnesses and their silent curiosity.

              As she ate, she thought of how much she preferred the peace. The drone of conversation still flowed around her, but wasn’t over powering. She didn’t feel the pressure to join in. perhaps she would do this everyday.

              Giggling broke out in the direction Aiva had come from and she glanced up. All previous contentment drowned in a wave of loneliness. She moved to duck her head when a shock of white hair caught her eye and tickled her reminiscence. A girl stood alone with her food in hand. She walked past the other students as if in a daze.

              Aiva knew her. She raked her memory over a day she would rather forget.

              Ckyler—one of the girls that Mabry had introduced her too.

              Her head had lifted in recognition but when the other girl turned her way, she hunched down.

              Ckyler probably wouldn’t even remember her.

              While Aiva studied the crumbs left of her meal, she began to hope. Maybe she did have a friend here.

              No, just because she was Mabry’s friend didn’t mean anything.

              Aiva curled her shoulders in more, tucked her chin. Anything to make herself smaller. Like everyone else, Ckyler wouldn’t want Aiva as a burden.

              “Can’t you walk?” A voice sounded from right above her.

              Startled Aiva snapped back into good posture as Ckyler sat down at the table. Her white blonde hair had grown some and the uniform smudged here and there with dirt and grass stains.

              “That’s rude.” She said before she could think, quickly scrambling afterwards, “I m-mean y-yes I can.”

              Ckyler blinked slowly. “Oh… sorry, I thought it was you though. You’re Aiva right?”

              “Yeah, your name is Ckyler?”

              She smiled. “Yup. So if you can walk then why’re you in a wheelchair? Got a broken bone?”

              Aiva looked down at her scrawny legs, where her own skirt lay across them more like blanket. “Again, that’s sort of rude to ask…” Aiva muttered mostly to herself.

Understanding lit up in Ckyler’s eyes, “oooh I wasn’t sure what was rude before, but how else are people supposed to know besides asking?”

Aiva had never thought much about it before… but nobody had really asked her outright like this either. “My parents don’t let me. I was born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy.” Aiva simplified her explanation, seeing Ckyler’s confused expression. “There’s a loss of muscle mass through out my body.”

“Well of course there is if your parents never let ya use em.”

“My parents say that I was born weak.”

“Hm… well aren’t all babies like that?”

Aiva’s mouth opened, though she had no counter. She’d never thought of it like that.

Ckyler held up her hands. “I also don’t know jack like—medically. I just met you outta it! So how ya been?” 

Still not used to things such as small talk she looked around herself as if the answer would appear at the next table over. When nothing came to mind and the silence had gone on a discomforting amount of time, Ckyler filled it in.

“So I heard Mab and Juliet got kicked out thanks to that little stunt, that girl needs to use her brain more. Must suck in that big ol’ house with no one to keep you company.”

Aiva nodded. “Y-yeah, it does. How are they?” She realized she was starving for news of them.

“Fine. Don’t see as much of them since I started coming here. I was in their summer program to ‘catch up.’”

Aiva’s disappointed “oh,” was drowned out by the bell and the ensuing rumble of kids pushing their chairs back.

“Well I have P.E. next. What about you?”

“Oh! I don’t ever have that class, it sounds fun!” she flushed, realizing how obvious it was that she didn’t have any courses in physical education. “it’s just, I’ve got asthma too, and my mom, she—” Aiva flailed for the right words to explain everything, hoping none of them sounded like excuses like so many other teens had already claimed since the start of the semester, before giving up. Ckyler wouldn’t care about any o that! “Math.” Was her final, simplified answer.

“I have to head in that direction anyway. I’ll take you.” She dropped both trays into Aiva’s lap and grabbed the handles to the girl’s wheelchair before the younger girl could protest.

They moved in a bubble of their own contented silence at a slower pace than the crowd. The roar of students died down as they dropped their lunch platters off. As the wheels rolled over the tiled hallway floor Aiva couldn’t help but notice that it seemed less people were bumping into her.

Christina ran out as they approached the classroom. “Where have you been? I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you here and I couldn’t find you! I could get in trouble if anything happened to you but I bet you never thought of that!” She glared at Ckyler as she snatched the chair from her grasp.

The harsh movement almost sent Aiva sprawling to the floor. The wheel bound girl looked up to her new friend an apology ready on her lips.

Ckyler just rolled her eyes and smiled. With a wave, she turned and walked away, too late for her to see Aiva’s gesture back.

Her cousin harrumphed as she was wheeled to the back of the classroom. All the while Aiva simply stared at the hand that rested in her lap in wonderment.

***

              Aiva sat in the near silence of her room two hours after lights out. Trying to finish her homework. Soothed by the sound of the others’ evened breathing. The only light was the soft golden glow of her reading lamp.

              She discovered early on that she was unable to get her assignments done at any other time. The dorms and common areas were constant chaos; small moments of freedom for the kids within the structured environment.

              Aiva didn’t mind all the activity: she just couldn’t concentrate. She preferred the quiet hours after sleep had claimed most residents, and she was glad for the excuse. Sleep no longer help the promise of rest. Dreams no longer seemed so great.

              However, slumber was creeping upon her, tugging at her eyelids. All but one thing completed for the night.

              They had only relieved their pen pal’s name. neither their age nor interests shared; they were to start friendships from scratch, something Aiva struggled with. She had no idea what to write.

              She could barely keep up a conversation with people in the same room—let alone an entire ocean away. She sat, staring at her blank piece of stationary for hours, simply wondering. Aiva put her pen t paper only once. Paused. Stared a bit more. Her other work grew blurry to Aiva’s tired eyes

              She fell asleep at her desk, only one line complete.

              Dear Angelique Jonquil...