Mondays at Linden Elementary have a sound.
It’s a mix of sneakers squeaking on blacktop, teachers yelling “Walk!” like that’s ever worked, and the constant slap of backpacks against people’s sides as they weave through the crowd.
The second I stepped into the fifth-grade swarm, I’d have to do the thing I’d gotten really good at lately: act like I didn’t care.
Across the yard, Ricardo Bell was already in the middle of a circle of boys.
Of course.
Ricardo didn’t walk to school like a normal person. He arrived, like there were invisible cameras following him and he had to hit his marks. All the boys (and girls) swarmed him the moment they could smell his eye-watering, rotten cologne.
And Vlad was there.
Right next to him.
Vlad laughed at something Ricardo said—laughed in the exact way he used to laugh at my jokes. I walked away.
My heart did that annoying thing where it felt both empty and heavy at the same time.
“Finn!”
I turned.
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Vlad came jogging towards me, his hair blowing in the wind. I could see Ricardo eying us skeptically.
“You’re alive,” he said, breathless, like he’d been worried.
“Barely,” I said.
We started walking toward the lines painted on the blacktop.
“Do you think they’re still mad about the yogurt thing?” Vlad asked.
I flinched internally.
The yogurt thing.
A phrase that made it sound like a harmless dairy accident.
It wasn’t.
It was my frozen yogurt.
On Margaret’s head.
In front of the Doe’s Best door.
Vlad’s face scrunched. “But you didn’t even know her.”
“Apparently, that’s not a valid defense in fifth grade,” I muttered.
As we passed the cafeteria doors, I spotted the girls.
Josephine’s yellow backpack was impossible to miss. It bounced like it had its own personality.
And next to her was Paisley—same blonde hair in a headband, same serious eyes.
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There was also...this other girl.
She had pale skin and jet-black hair, sort of like the color of obsidian. She wore a dress up to her knees, in the same color. As if she was going to a funeral. My funeral, to be specific today.
At first, she looked like this girl I had a huge crush on in third grade, before I transferred schools. Then, I thought she looked like Vlad, if he was a girl. No one told me her name, her name could have been "Vivian", or "Lydia".
I've never got the chance to talk to her, but I remember on the first day of school when Ricardo called her an "oriental" behind her back, like he was saying a secret password that made him cooler.
It hadn't made him cooler.
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Vlad nudged me with his elbow. “Bro, don’t stare. That’s—”
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“Not staring,” I said automatically.
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“You’re doing the thing where your eyes lock and your face turns off,” Vlad said.
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“That’s my normal face.”
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Vlad squinted at me like he was trying to diagnose something.
We were almost at the line when Ricardo’s voice cut through the yard.
“Valentini!”
My whole body reacted like it was allergic.
Ricardo Bell stepped out of his circle like a king leaving his throne, and the boys around him shifted to make space, which was insane because the blacktop was not a crowded nightclub. It was a schoolyard.
Ricardo’s cologne got to us before he did.
He grinned like he’d just remembered I existed—and that remembering was entertaining.
“Hey,” he said, dragging the word out. “You guys still banned from Doe’s Best, or did they forgive you for the Dairy Incident?”
Dairy Incident.
I hated that phrase.
Vlad laughed too loud, like he had to prove he wasn’t nervous.
“It was funny,” Vlad said quickly. “Like, honestly, iconic.”
Ricardo’s eyes flicked to me. “Was it your idea?”
“No,” I said.
Ricardo raised an eyebrow. “Then why’d you do it?”
Because I’m stupid, I almost said.
Because my brain sometimes takes one sentence and turns it into a full action scene.
Because I thought Vlad meant resources like—like frozen yogurt.
Instead I shrugged, because shrugging was safer than talking.
Ricardo stepped closer. “You know what’s actually funny?” he said. “When someone thinks they’re tough and they’re not.”
I could feel the circle behind him waiting. Waiting for the punchline.
Waiting for me to become it.
Vlad shifted beside me.
I didn’t look at Vlad. If I looked at him, I’d see the old Vlad—my Vlad—the one who used to stand next to me like it was obvious.
Now he stood next to Ricardo like it was strategic.
Ricardo kept talking. “Like… you. You still doing your little walking-away thing?”
He mimed turning around dramatically.
A couple boys laughed.
My face went hot.
“Let’s just get in line,” I said.
Ricardo’s grin sharpened. “Aw. He’s shy.”
Then his gaze slid past me—past Vlad—like we were just props.
And landed on the girls.
Specifically the girl in black.
Ricardo’s entire posture changed. He adjusted his shoulders like he was trying to become a better version of himself in two seconds.
“Hey,” he called, louder now. “Josie. Paisley.”
Josephine looked over, cheerful as always, like she didn’t realize people could be dangerous while smiling.
Paisley’s face tightened a little.
The girl in black didn’t even blink.
Ricardo nodded toward her like he owned the air between them. “And you.”
The girl finally turned her head.
Her eyes were dark, but not sleepy-dark. More like… don’t-test-me dark.
“What?” she said.
One word, and somehow it was like she’d put a wall up.
Ricardo laughed, but it sounded fake. “Just saying hi. We didn’t really get to talk.”
The girl’s gaze flicked over him, quick and flat, like she was scanning a QR code and deciding not to buy it.
“We have talked,” she said.
Ricardo blinked. “We have?”
“You called me 'oriental',” she said, voice still calm. “Behind my back.”
The boys around Ricardo went silent.
Vlad went stiff.
My heartbeat did a weird jump, like it was surprised someone said the thing out loud.
Ricardo’s smile twitched. “What? No I didn’t.”
The girl in black tilted her head. “Yes. You did.”
Josephine made a small noise, like she was about to try to turn this into a joke.
Paisley didn’t.
Ricardo laughed again, louder, sharper. “Okay, whatever. People say stuff. It’s not that deep.”
“It was deep enough for you to say it,” the girl replied.
My brain basically short-circuited.
Because I’d never seen anyone talk to Ricardo like that.
Not a teacher.
Not even the sixth graders.
Ricardo’s face tightened like he hated feeling watched. His eyes darted around, checking the crowd, checking his audience.
Then he leaned forward, voice lower.
“What’s your name again? Was it Lydia?”
The girl stared at him like he’d asked what color the sky was.
“You don’t get to ask me that,” she said.
Then she turned back to Josephine and Paisley like Ricardo was already done.
Josephine’s mouth was open.
Paisley’s eyes were wide.
Ricardo’s ears turned pink.
He looked at the boys like they were supposed to help him fix it.
They didn’t.
He looked at Vlad.
Vlad looked at his shoes.
Ricardo’s jaw clenched.
He stepped back with this forced laugh like he was totally fine.
“Okay,” he said. “Cool.”
But his eyes didn’t look cool.
They looked like someone had taken something from him.
He walked away fast, like he was trying to outrun the feeling.
The circle of boys scrambled after him.
Vlad stayed.
For half a second.
Then Vlad started to go too.
And something in my chest tightened.
“Vlad,” I said.
He stopped.
He didn’t turn all the way around. Just enough.
“What?” he asked.
My throat felt weird. Like if I said the wrong thing, it would crack.
I glanced toward the girls again.
The girl in black had already moved on, like confrontation was just another part of the day, like breathing.
Josephine was talking a mile a minute.
Paisley kept looking back, checking to make sure Ricardo wasn’t coming.
And I realized something else—something annoying.
The girl in black wasn’t just fearless.
She was… alone.
Not the same kind of alone as me.
But still.
I looked back at Vlad.
He was waiting, like he wanted me to say something normal so he could leave.
So I did.
“Do you think,” I said carefully, “that was… bad?”
Vlad blinked. “For Ricardo?”
“For her,” I said.
Vlad’s eyes flicked toward the girl in black. “She can handle it.”
“Yeah,” I said.
But I didn’t believe it.
Vlad shifted his backpack strap. “Finn, I gotta go. Ricardo’s—”
“Yeah,” I said again.
Vlad hesitated.
Then, quieter, he said, “You coming?”
The question hit me like a test.
If I said yes, I’d walk back into that circle and pretend I didn’t care.
If I said no, I’d watch Vlad keep walking away.
And I didn’t know which one would hurt worse.
Before I could decide, the bell rang.
Teachers yelled “Walk!” like always.
And the fifth-grade swarm moved.
I watched the girl in black disappear into the crowd with Josephine and Paisley.
Then I watched Vlad disappear toward Ricardo.
And for a second, I didn’t move at all.
Because it felt like everyone in fifth grade had picked a side.
And I was still standing in the middle.
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and then Add to home screen.