Morning felt like walking through a pool of water. Every step to school dragged, like my legs weren't getting the memo that we had somewhere to be.
The air was cool, but it didn't feel fresh. It felt more like stale laundry left out too long.
The school gates stood ahead, paint peeling and metal warped slightly from years of heat and rain.
I didn't look at anyone walking in with me. Didn't say anything either. Not even to the school guard standing guard in front of the school gate. It wasn't worth the effort.
Inside, the hallway was already alive. Lockers slamming, voices of fellow students each telling their own stories, and the woe of them wishing for the teachers to forgot the homework altogether. I couldn't care less, as I headed straight to class.
As I enter my class, I headed straight to my table. The one at the furthest back and closest to the window. The spot where you can disappear without anyone noticing you're gone. Sometimes the teachers won't even notice you sleeping.
Minutes later, lessons came and went in the usual blur. Teachers talked. Students answered. I filled maybe half a page with notes, mostly to keep my hands busy. Outside the window, the sky was pale and empty. I kept catching myself staring at it.
Lunch rolled around. Groups formed quick, the same clusters as always. I stayed put, biting slowly into the bread I'd stuffed into my bag this morning. The chatter in the room was background noise, meaningless and far away. My body is in class, yet my soul is distant than ever.
Though, sometimes, I do wonder. What am I living for? Just living like this feels very monotone. I have nothing to live for in the first place.
I didn't even realize when the break was over, but by that time, the final bell rang. The place erupted, chairs scraping, bags zipping, voices colliding. I stayed in my seat until most of them were gone. No need for me to rush.
That's when she appeared.
"Faulker."
My homeroom teacher, whose name I do not know, stood while leaning in the hallway. Her gaze steady, like always.
"Come to my office now."
She left before I could say anything.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked the quieter hallway. Posters for club events and sports tournaments lined the walls. None of it had anything to do with me. Nor would they recruit me in the first place.
Her office was dim, blinds tilted so the sunlight cut across the room in strips. She sat behind her desk, posture straight, papers arranged too neatly to be natural.
"Sit," she said.
I dropped into the chair, leaning back just enough to make it clear I wasn't here to chat.
She looked at me, not with suspicion, but something lighter. Thoughtful, maybe. "Your father called this morning," she said.
I felt a small knot form in my stomach. "What for?"
"He asked me to recommend you to a transfer of his choice." She tapped a folder on her desk. "A different school, one he thinks might suit you better. Smaller classes. More… structure."
I stayed quiet. My father didn't usually care enough to meddle.
"I'm not saying you have to go," she went on, "but I told him I'd pass along the information. Think about it." She said as she slid the folder toward me.
"Also, he told me that if you were to agree, everything would be taken care of right away. All the paperwork, payments and even transportation. You just need to say yes or no."
I stared at it, then at her. She didn't seem to be hiding anything. Just doing what she thought was right. Atleast I got a say in this, albeit not knowing why he would do something like this in the first place.
"Alright," I said finally, though I didn't reach for the folder.
Her expression softened a little. "That's all. You can go."
I stood, slung my bag back on, and left. The folder stayed on her desk.
The hallway outside felt even quieter than before.
.
.
.
I didn't head straight home.Instead, I cut through the side streets. The ones where the pavement is cracked and weeds push through the gaps. A longer walk, but quieter. I could think without running into anyone from school.
Not that I had much to think about. The answer was obvious.No.Transferring meant new teachers, new rules, new faces staring at me like they already knew who I was. Too much trouble for too little gain.
The late afternoon sun made the buildings glow, but the streets were empty. My footsteps echoed in the narrow alleys, and for a while, it felt like the whole city had decided to leave me alone.
By the time I reached home, the sky had started to sink into orange.
I stepped in, my eyes lingering to search for my mother's whereaboutsThere she was, in the kitchen. Apron still on, stirring something in a pot. The smell of curry drifted through the air.
"Mom," I said, leaning against the doorway.She glanced over her shoulder. "Hm?"
"About that school thing," I said. "When do we go?"
She blinked. "We?"
"Yeah," I said, leaning against the doorway.
For a second, she didn't answer. Then she set the ladle down slowly, like she didn't want to spill a drop. "Faulker… no. You'd be going alone."
It took a moment for the words to register."Alone?" I repeated.
She nodded. "It's a boarding school. You'd live there. Your father and I talked about it—"
I cut her off. "Wait. You're serious?"
Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed steady. "Yes. I think it's the best thing for you. A place where you can start fresh. No one there knows you, no one there… expects you to be a certain way. Maybe."
I let out a short laugh, though it didn't feel funny. "So you're just… sending me off?"
"It's not like that," she said, stepping closer. "I'm giving you a chance to change things for yourself. You've been stuck, Faulker. This could be your way out."
I looked past her, at the pot of soup steaming on the stove.Her words felt heavy, too heavy for the little kitchen to hold.
"I'll think about it," I muttered, brushing past her. I do not know what to feel, honestly. Her words contained the truth.
"It's not far," she added quickly, as if distance would be the problem. "You can come home on breaks. But… you'd be on your own most of the time."
I let the words sit there between us. Alone.It wasn't fear exactly. Just a heaviness in my chest.
She turned to face me fully now. "Faulker… I think you should go."
"Why?"
Her eyes softened, but there was something sharp under it, like she'd been waiting to say this for a long time. "Because you need a fresh start. Somewhere new. No history, no… weight pulling you down." She stepped closer, resting a hand on my arm. "You're young. You can still choose the kind of person you want to be."
I looked away, focusing on the faint steam rising from the pot.A fresh start. It sounded too clean, too easy. Like just switching schools could scrub everything else away.
Still, the way she said it—quiet, but so certain that it made me wonder if she saw something I didn't.
I didn't give her an answer. Not yet. I just mumbled, "I'll think about it," and went to my room.
But even as I closed the door, the thought stuck.A different school.A different life.Maybe....
.
.
.
The train doors slid open with a sharp hiss.I stepped out, the weight of my duffel strap biting into my shoulder, the rolling suitcase trailing behind with a dull rattle against the platform tiles.
The station was busy but not loud. Just the hum of footsteps, the low murmur of conversations, the occasional metallic announcement echoing overhead. I followed the signs for the exit, the air shifting from the dry chill of the train to the faintly damp smell of the city.
Outside, sunlight poured between tall buildings, the kind that looked too clean, too deliberate compared to the cracked sidewalks back home. The streets felt wider here, but also tighter in another way, as if the city had eyes, watching every newcomer.
I started walking.
A bus roared past, splashing through a shallow puddle. Across the street, a row of small shops huddled together—ramen stalls, convenience stores, a bookstore with a chalkboard sign written in hurried strokes. I slowed down for a second, reading the prices out of habit, even though I wasn't buying anything. The price was reasonable. Not cheap, not expensive, just right when taken into account.
People passed me without a second look. Students with backpacks, a woman in a blazer talking into an earpiece, a delivery cyclist weaving through the crowd. Every face was new. Every street sign had names I've never heard before.
I passed a small plaza with a fountain in the middle, its water arching gracefully before splashing into a shallow pool. A few pigeons strutted along the edge, completely unfazed by the people walking by. Beyond it, there were cafes with open seating, the smell of freshly baked bread drifting into the street.
It was… nice here. Too nice.
The further I walked, the more the city felt like a showroom. Painted benches, spotless sidewalks, and even the street lamps had a kind of modern design that made them look more like sculptures.
Finally, I found it. Limelight Dormitory.
Four stories tall, pale stone walls with broad windows, a clean slate roof. Flower boxes lined the lower windowsills, each one bursting with bright red and yellow blooms. The front entrance had a glass canopy, and the polished double doors reflected the afternoon light.
Across the courtyard, I could see another building in soft pastel yellow with white shutters on the windows. Lemonleaf Dormitory, or so I heard. The girls' dorm. Even from here, I could hear faint laughter spilling from its open second-floor balcony.
I shifted my grip on my suitcase and started toward Limelight. The cobblestones clicked under my boots. The air here smelled faintly of flowers and old wood. It felt…clean. Unnaturally so, compared to what I knew.
I slowed down as I approached, my suitcase wheels humming over the smooth pavement. This didn't look like a dorm. It looked like the kind of hotel you only stayed at once in your life, if you were lucky.
I stopped at the foot of the steps. My reflection in the glass door was clear. Every wrinkle in my shirt, every scuff on my shoes, the way my hair had gotten messy from the wind. I looked… out of place.
My room was waiting somewhere inside.My new life too, apparently.
I wasn't sure if I wanted either. Yet, I pushed the door open with the arm that does not hold the suitcase, and took a step inside.