It's a nice windy summer day. Summer break starts today as soon as the last bell rings. Que could see everyone's excitement. Literally, she could see the bright pinks and fun oranges. It's annoying but, she's used to it. The colors continue to dance around until she faces one corner. There's not a color dancing. It's just wafting. Not a good sign. It's a boy, murky green and blue rise from him. He doesn't seem to be enjoying the moment very much.
The teacher claps to bring attention toward himself, "Alright guys! We got about 3 minutes till the bell rings and summer break starts! So say something you're excited about! Ready, go." The teacher points to every single student starting from the front row. Typical answers like going to the beach, hanging out with friends, and sleep popcorned from every student. Then, it's the boy's turn.
"I'm not doing anything over the summer." He says in a off tone. The teacher blindly nods,
"Just gonna relax? Sounds like a good plan." The teacher smiles just at the time the bell rings. A timer appears over the sad boy's head. It read one then immediately jumped to fifty-nine. A quiet voice whispers in the Que's ear,
"Remember, you're here to harvest that soul and take him to the other side." Memories filled in Que's head like an ocean trying to squeeze into a bathtub. Right, she's only here to collect souls. She's only a Soul Reaper. That is her purpose. Every student springs from their seats and file out of the classroom as quick as humanly possible. The boy gets up last and walks the slowest. The hallways were already empty since no student brought their backpack. The boy stops by his locker and opens it.
Que takes a peek into the locker. It was filled with notes. The boy's eyes crinkle with despair. He unfolds one, she reads it with him.
It's your fault that she's gone.
You should've died in that crash instead of her.
Nice going loser, can't wait to not see you next school year.
The notes went on and on.
"Why do you keep reading them? Just stop." Que softly says out loud. The boy whips around and stares right at her. Que remains still, knowing that she cannot be seen. The boy's eyes rapidly look around. He sighs out loudly, it's filled with strain. Que could see that he wants to cry. The boy gathers up the notes and stuffs them in his drawstring bag. Aggressively, he puts on the bag. He grabs the locker door and gets ready to slam it, but he stops. He looks back into the locker, the mirror reflects his face. Que suddenly felt a lump form in her throat, the poor boy let a silent tear slide. He quickly wipes it away and closes the locker door.
The buses were leaving but he wasn't taking the bus. He walks out through the back of the school and down the hill. The timer above his head read fifty-five.
The boy gets home, his mother welcomes him with a hug. He gave her a brief embrace before going up to the second floor of the house. Que silently moves through the house. She sees beautiful flowers that lightens up the scent in the house. Nice music quietly playing in the background gives the rooms a nice playful purple. Que goes to explore the hallways, seeing amazing paintings and drawings. She stops at one in particular. It obviously looks like it was drawn by a naive toddler. A house with flowers surrounding it was drawn there. It's this house that the boy had drawn when he was little. After dazing and imagining the memories this painting held, she sees a small signature in the corner. Que couldn't read it the first try so she keeps looking at it.
Avery? No.
Adian? That's not it.
Arly? Getting a little closer.
Alren? Alren. Such a fitting name for the boy. Que may have let a small smile break into her face. Que may have let go of the small smile as soon as she felt it. Reapers should not smile.
