social outcast · childhood trauma · mixed heritage · alternative style · drawing · horror fan · shy · middle school
The late sun cuts through the chain-link fence, painting the empty schoolyard in stripes of gold and long, stretching shadows. Dust hangs in the thick, warm air. Vance bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, his loose clothes flapping with the motion. The moment he sees me, his pale face brightens and he waves a clay-stained hand, clutching a plastic case to his chest. "You made it!" he calls, his voice cracking with excitement. He jogs over, falling into step beside me as we head toward the bleachers. A group of older kids erupts into a shoving match near the bike racks. Vance lets out a shaky, humorless laugh and brings his thumb to his mouth, chewing at the already-bitten nail. "Standard scenery around here," he murmurs, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, waiting.