ꜛꜜ𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓮ꜜꜛ

ꜛꜜ𝓕𝓲𝓿𝓮ꜜꜛ

An alarm clock breaks through the sweet silence of my sleep. I sit up and look around. Nothing seems out of place, but something feels different. Wrong, maybe. I get up and change into a red t-shirt and shorts. I grab mismatched socks, pull them just above my ankles, and rush down to the dining room.

"Aspen?" A gruff voice calls from the corner of the kitchen. I wince, recalling last night's events. "You mind coming over here for a second?"

Please don't be a lecture, please don't be a lecture. I repeat the words over and over in my head, silently pleading in my head, my eyes squeezed shut. I take one more step and run into a looming figure. My father.

He quietly regards me with his cold stare, tapping his foot. Each knock on the hardwood floor makes me flinch.

"Your socks aren't matching," He comments briefly, his face expressionless.

"Yes father," I reply, wringing my fingers as he continues cooking breakfast. "This week is school spirit week and we are celebrating with new dress codes for each day. Like once, I wore a green shirt because, um, green shirt day? And, uh, a blue shirt day with purple? Cause' um... color week." I gesture at my shirt and shorts, praying that Father wouldn't notice my hands shaking. "Today, the prompt is casual wear. I know lots of kids my age who-"

"You are rambling," Father interrupts, a hint of disgust in his normal monotone speech. "You know how I hate rambling." I try to come up with an excuse when he waves me away.

"Go," He says, dissatisfaction written all over his face. "And come back soon, if you must come back at all." There it was. That was it. Those words, sending me plummeting down to my childhood. How hard it was to achieve a small smile of approval, a nod of acknowledgment. Closed doors. Frowns. Light smacks. Long nights of staying up, late as I could, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Though, now that I'm grown, I realize what the problem is. It's not me. It's my father.

I grab my bag by the door and exit our house. The bright sun blinds me momentarily before my eyes adjust. I head to the Landing and walk up the set of stairs, my eyes darting to each door, and my brain attempting to form an escape plan.

I keep walking.

ꜜꜛꜜꜛꜜꜛ

When I enter the building, Rachael, the Guider from the first day, pulls me aside. She greets me with a smile and a tap on her fuchsia clipboard.

"Hi honey, don't worry, you're not in trouble, I just need to tell you something." I nod dismissively.

"Your class is being switched from Massfighter to Politician. You will have to start classes over, but you're the correct age anyway, so it won't matter." I go from staring at the height difference of my socks to gawking at the Guider, eyes wide.

"R-really?" I ask, shaking with excitement. She nods and ties a new armband around my forearm. I rip off the Massfighter band and shove it in my pocket, ignoring Rachael's outstretched hand to take it. She shrugs and directs me to the first classroom.

I scan the room and take in all the faces. I recognize some kids from past years and scan the very back. One kid is standing, but I can tell someone is behind him. I take a couple steps to the right and see one person bent over their desk. Light brown hair, green shirt. He looks up and waves. Finch.

I walk to the back of the room and motion to the desk beside him. "Anyone sitting here?" He shakes his head and grins as I sit and drop my bag at my feet.

"So, uh," He coughs, "What brings you here?"

"I actually have no idea. One of the Guiders pulled me aside and switched my armband, so I just went with it." I smile back as the teacher walks in. Finch groans and gives me a sheepish grin. The teacher looks around the room and clears his throat loudly. Everyone quiets down. He mumbles something about new students and addresses the class.