Rainy Days

Broken Friends

Some people look forward to school, bound down the sidewalk like they can't wait to enter hell. At least they have someone to endure it with.

I used to, too, until Mira left me for that sucker Tae. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't give a damn about him if he and his friends didn't smash my face every morning. My stomach growls, gnawing at the emptiness. I don't go to lunch either—Tae's there. I sigh, keep my head down, and pray that I'm invisible.

What did I do to deserve this horrible fate?

The first two periods drag along like watching paint dry, only that I'm staring out the rain-dotted windows. The rain slashes at the trees outside, a ballet of leaves and wood playing on a stage of wind. It is the third period. Classroom 102 is a neat array of brown decks tanned by the fluorescent lights above, turquoise chairs, and a wide blackboard caked with chalk. I sit at my usual seat in the back left corner, slouching so that I'm small enough and far enough that nobody notices me.

Flick. I look up.

Well, everybody but Tae. I want to cry—what have I done wrong this time? But I grit my teeth and force myself to face his stupidly perfect face, hair cut in neat bangs, and a brilliant smile that would make anyone swoon for him.

Mira. My heart wrenches like the fists by my side.

"Looking good today, Ollie." He leans over and wraps an arm around my neck. I can practically smell the sweat dripping from his pits, but I say nothing of it—not that I can say much in his chokehold.

"P-please let go of me," I squeeze the words out, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Ollie! Tae! No talking, please," Mr. Brynn snaps. "And Tae, go back to your seat."

Tae's glare lingers on me, resentment dripping from his sneer. He slams me into my desk with a forceful shove. "I'll let you off easy today. Tomorrow..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. I haven't forgotten the bruise on my cheek he gave me yesterday. He shoves through the desks and sits down, thankfully on the opposite side of the room.

"Does anybody know the atomic structure of carbon from yesterday's reading?" Mr. Brynn asks, his steely gaze sweeping across the classroom. He's a skinny man, wearing a crisp plaid shirt tucked into his pants and a tight gray tie that complements his thinning hair.

6 protons, 6 neutrons, 6 electrons. Devil's element, as he calls it. The answer instantly pops into my mind, but I don't raise my hand—just shove my head into my arms and pray he doesn't see me. He calls on someone else. I feel the relief seeping out of my body, but it darts back in, tightening my chest as I stare at who he's called.

Mira. Her long, black hair flips in the air as she jerks her head to Mr. Brynn, allowing me a glimpse of her face. Eyes that have been kissed by the sun, and the slight smirk on her face I know too well...

It was almost half a year ago.

The sun was beaming harshly against our sweat-drenched foreheads and the little fan keeping us sane had died, giving way to the annoying buzz of mosquitos and the soft scritch scratch of our pencils.

Well, only my pencil.

I looked up at Mira, her eyes drifting to the ceiling, her pencil slack on the table. I frowned.

"You haven't finished a single page!" I exclaimed in exasperation.

She just stared at the ceiling, her mind drifting away like her eyes.

"You know you're not getting it all done the night before school, right?"

"I know." She shrugged, as if two weeks' worth of missing homework was nothing to be worried about. "I also know someone who'll actually help me, unlike you."