I’m in the classroom, my head resting on the desk, headphones snug in my ears, listening to the quietest song I know. Silence has always been my refuge. Music, my solace. It calms me in ways nothing else can, filling the void with a peace I desperately crave. I’m trying to sleep, though I know it’s a losing battle—I didn’t get a single moment of rest last night. My muscles ache like hell.

Earlier, I took some painkillers from the school nurse, but the throbbing hasn’t stopped. I didn’t dare show her my wounds. If I had, she might have asked questions I’m not ready to answer. Worse, she might have figured out something I’ve been trying so hard to keep hidden. Not now. Not yet.

Through the hum of my headphones, I faintly hear someone yelling my name. The sound grows louder, sharper, and then— thud! A hard blow to the back of my head. Pain flashes, dizzying and blinding, before everything fades to black.

“Norman Jackson Cooper, can you hear me?”

My eyelids flutter open to the sight of Ms. Allison, the school nurse, leaning over me. Her voice is soft but firm, pulling me back to consciousness.

“Yes, Ms. Allison, I can hear you. No need to yell,” I reply, managing a weak chuckle.

“Why do you always end up getting hurt, little kid?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“I’m not a kid, Ms. Allison,” I say, pouting slightly.

“And now the kid is sulking,” she teases, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“Can I leave now, Ms. Allison?” I ask, attempting to sit up.

“No, you can’t,” she replies, her tone turning more serious.

“Why not?”

Her expression shifts, and for the first time, her voice carries a weight that makes my chest tighten. “Who hurt you, Norman?”

I shake my head, avoiding her eyes. “I really don’t know, Ms. Allison.”

She gives me her signature “Don’t lie to me” look. “Norman,” she presses gently, “you can tell me.”

“Ms. Allison,” I reply, my voice quieter now, “I honestly don’t know who it was. And even if I did, I wouldn’t report it.” My words are heavy, filled with a pain I can’t explain.

She studies me for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching for something, but eventually, she lets out a resigned sigh. “Just rest here for a while,” she says softly. “You can leave when you’re ready.”

I nod and lie back down on the small infirmary bed. She watches me with concern etched on her face, but I muster a weak smile—a silent reassurance that I’m okay, even though we both know I’m far from it. She nods back, understanding the unspoken words, and leaves the room.

Ms. Allison is the only person who’s ever patted my head and told me, “Everything will be all right.” For most people, those words might seem ordinary, even trivial. But to me, they mean everything.

She’s in her mid-fifties, with mostly black hair streaked with a touch of gray, always tied neatly in a bun. Her round face and warm brown skin radiate kindness, and her smile could melt even the coldest of hearts.

I’ve heard rumors about her ex-husband—how he supposedly left her for another woman. I’ve never believed them, but sometimes I wonder. Could it be true? Or is it just idle gossip? The world is full of “maybes,” spinning endless questions without answers.

She’s the oldest nurse at our school, and without a doubt, the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes, when I’m lost in my thoughts, I wonder what it would feel like to have a mother like Ms. Allison. I know it’s selfish to think that way, but I can’t help it. “What if...?”

The school bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, feeling the ache in my body as I stand. I need to freshen up.

Walking through the passage, my gaze drifts to the playground. A group of students is laughing, playing games, their carefree joy filling the air. For a moment, something stirs inside me—a strange, unfamiliar feeling. Is it envy? Jealousy? Or something deeper, something I don’t want to admit?

I shake off the thought and keep walking, unwilling to dwell on emotions that might tear me apart.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of the boys’ washroom. I push the door open and step inside, relieved to find it empty. Moving to the sink, I splash cold water on my face, letting the icy droplets calm my nerves.

For a fleeting moment, the water feels like it’s washing away more than just the grime of the day. It feels like it’s carrying away my pain, my fear—everything I can’t put into words.

But as I lift my head and look at my reflection in the mirror, I realize the weight hasn’t left me. It never does.

Norman

I reached the classroom and quietly slipped inside, doing my best to avoid drawing attention. I shuffled to my desk, slumped into my seat, and rested my head on the desk. Before I knew it, I was asleep, completely oblivious to the lecture happening around me. The next thing I heard was the bell ringing, signaling the start of lunchtime.

The classroom instantly erupted into chaos as students bolted for the canteen. If you didn’t get there fast enough, you wouldn’t find a seat—or food. Within seconds, almost everyone was gone. Almost. Only three people remained: me, the class president, and the vice president.

The class president, Nico—short for Nicholas or Nikoli, or something like that—was sitting near the window. Tall, athletic, and undeniably handsome, he was practically the poster child for perfection. Beside him was Elsa Steward, the vice president. With her brown hair and radiant smile, she was the most beautiful girl in school.

They looked like they’d stepped straight out of a fairy tale—a prince and princess brought to life. I’d heard rumors they were dating, and honestly, it made sense. They were perfect for each other. The idea of them together didn’t bother me, though; their lives were light-years away from mine.

I grabbed my lunchbox from my backpack, deliberately ignoring their presence. As I opened it, I overheard Elsa’s voice, her tone encouraging.

“Nico, just go for it. Just give it a try,” she said, almost urging him.

If someone else were in my place, they might have been curious about their conversation. But not me. Whatever drama was unfolding between the school’s golden couple had nothing to do with me. I couldn’t care less.

I stood up and started walking toward the door, determined to leave them behind. But before I could escape, Nico appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my shoulder.

“Why don’t you just eat in the canteen?” he asked, his tone oddly desperate.

I blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t have money… are you planning to pay for me, rich kid?” I replied vaguely, a sharp edge to my voice.

Without hesitation, he nodded. “Why not? I can pay for you.”

I shot him a baffled look. “And why would you do that? Do you want something from me, Mr. Class President?”

“No. I mean… actually, yes. But not like that. I mean, I wanted to ask you something, but that’s not the only reason I approached you. I also want to be friends with you,” he said, stumbling over his words in an attempt to explain.

“Get to the point,” I replied flatly, my voice dripping with disinterest.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Elsa and I want you to teach us something.”

“Teach you what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen your drawings. They’re beautiful. We want you to teach us how to draw,” he said softly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Why would you want to learn from me? And more importantly, why would you want to be friends with someone like me?”

He shook his head, looking genuinely confused. “What do you mean, ‘someone like you’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Mr. Class President. You know exactly what I mean. I’m the outcast of the class. I’ve been ignored and ridiculed for as long as I can remember. So, I have to ask: why would the most popular guy and girl in school suddenly want to be friends with me?”

Before Nico could respond, Elsa spoke up, her voice soft but insistent. “No, no, it’s not like that, Norman. We genuinely want to be your friends—not for any ulterior motive.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Really? We’ve been in the same class for two years, and it never crossed your mind to befriend me until now? Out of nowhere, you suddenly want to be my friends?”

I closed my lunchbox, ready to leave. “I’m hungry, and I don’t have time for this,” I said bluntly, cutting the conversation short.

Nico opened his mouth to protest, but Elsa stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. I didn’t wait to hear what they had to say next. Without another word, I walked out of the classroom, ignoring both of them.

Norman

My favorite place in the entire school is a small spot tucked away behind the schoolyard. It’s a quiet area shaded by a large tree—I don’t even know what kind of tree it is, but it always fills me with a sense of calm and refreshment whenever I’m there.

Actually, I love this spot even more because no one else ever comes here. But the real reason it’s so special to me is the cat—a petite, orange-colored cat with white spots scattered across her tiny frame. I found her during my first year here. She’s the cutest little thing, and when I started feeding her, she quickly became my friend.

I sat on a rock near the tree, opened my lunchbox, and began eating the sandwich I had made for myself earlier that morning. As I ate, I took in the peaceful beauty of nature. When I finished, I packed up my lunchbox. Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunchtime. I got up and began walking briskly toward my class.

As I approached the classroom door, a large figure stepped in front of me, blocking my way. It was Jackson—the school bully. He was tall and broad, with mostly black hair streaked with blonde. Jackson had made my life miserable for as long as I could remember. He treated me like garbage, hitting me whenever he felt like it. To him, I was the perfect target—an easy one. And to make it worse, he seemed to revel in my fear. Maybe he was crazy—or no, scratch that—he was definitely crazy.

Most of the bullying I endured was because of how I looked. Some people called me fat, others called me ugly. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about their opinions, but that didn’t stop them from tormenting me. When they weren’t attacking my appearance, they found other things to mock—my clothes, the things I owned, or didn’t own. They loved to call me poor because I never ate in the canteen or went on school trips, which I couldn’t afford.

Flanking Jackson, as always, were his two devoted lackeys: Ethan and Peter. They trailed after him like lost puppies, hanging onto his every word. Sometimes, I wondered if they even had lives of their own outside of following him around.

Jackson grabbed me by the neck and shoved me slightly, making it clear he was in one of his bullying moods.

“What do you want now, Jackson?” I asked, my voice laced with irritation.

“Nothing much, fatty. Just wanted to say hello. We missed you,” he sneered, his smirk making my skin crawl.

I tried to pull away from his grip, but he was far stronger than me. Realizing I couldn’t escape, I resigned myself to what was coming next. I braced myself for the inevitable punches.

Just as I was on the verge of giving up, I heard a voice cutting through the tension, commanding Jackson to stop. For a brief moment, hope flickered inside me. It felt like an angel had descended to save me from this hell.

But when I looked up, my hope quickly turned to frustration. Standing there wasn’t an angel—it was the last person I wanted to see.

That son of a bitch, Nico.