"Milo...I don't know how to put this, but at the rate you're going currently — you won't be able to graduate high school," Mr. Pink, the school academic advisor told me.

  All I could do when he said those words was stare slightly down at the desk he was sitting behind. The office air was always extremely uneasy. It felt stale and strange. I couldn't say anything back.

  "...I understand there might be a lot of outside factors influencing your life right now, but you have to learn how to focus on your grades more. Technically, your attendance rate isn't bad at all. You don't call in sick too often, nor do you just cut classes without letting the school know in advance... But you don't do your assignments, and your test scores are consistently quite subpar. Your performance last year was very similar as well. In fact, it seems you just barely passed your end-of-year finals."

  "...Yes, sir," I replied.

  "I worry for your results in this semester's midterms. Granted, we're still only two weeks into the academic year, but even so. If anything, you already getting so many poor grades right from the start of the year is quite concerning. You're almost as bad as the delinquent types that skip school regularly."

  I sat quietly.

  "...I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but your midterms will heavily affect your overall grade for the semester. If you fail on them, you will have to perform exceptionally well on your finals. And your finals will naturally be harder than the midterms. Of course, it's still only the first half of the year, but that doesn't give you an excuse to not try at all. If you fail on the second term, you'll have to repeat your courses."

  As he was speaking, I began shaking my leg, looking at all of Mr. Pink's certificates and diplomas hung up on the office walls, glancing out the window.

  "I hear from the teachers that you very often doze off during class...Is there something going on in your private life currently, if you're okay with me asking that?"

  "No, sir. I'm alright."

  After that ensued a slight silence, as Mr. Pink gave me a bit of a weird look. For another fifteen or so minutes, he said some more things about what I should do. Even though I was the one that made the appointment with him, the whole thing felt like a waste of time.

  ***

  "...Thankfully, the sun is still pretty high up. Now, what should I do for the rest of the day?" I spoke to myself, as I walked past the school gates.

  I was just about to relax, when I suddenly noticed a group of guys from my class walking a bit ahead of me. They were Vova, Ming, Lloyd, and Corey. A quartet of dumbasses that paid less attention to class than even I did. All they did was talk about which girls they got it on with or wrestle with each other inside the homeroom during breaks. They were a group of loudmouths, to say the least. But, they were popular. Good at sports, quick to get into fights with other guys, and even quicker to flirt with any girls that caught their eye.

  As they laughed with each other while talking about their usual interests, they also noticed me walking behind them. With a brief glance behind them, they just as quickly turned around and went quiet, seemingly holding in their laughter. A moment later, they started to whisper all sorts of things. I didn't catch much besides one word: 'retard'.

  I've had a history of getting into fights with them, particularly throughout middle school. It was weird. I'd known them for roughly five years at that point, yet we still didn't get along. Vova was probably the one I fought with the most. He'd say something about Dad, which would make me react. Of course, his three friends would soon join in and gang up on me, but I hated cowering from idiots like them. I didn't want to run or hide from them. No matter how much of a laughingstock I might've been to them, the one thing I didn't want to do was not stand up for myself. Thankfully, our little physical conflicts started to quiet down over the years. I guess they realized they couldn't turn me into their punching bag, so they started resorting to just laughing at me. Well, that was better than being covered in bruises and blood.

  Unfortunately, these four weren't the only ones that had a negative opinion of me. But that's just how things were.

  Reaching into my backpack for my walkman headphones, I started listening to my songs. This was really the only way I could wind down.

  I dug into my pockets to see if I had any money left to spend for the rest of the week. It was a regular Thursday, and I only had enough left for probably a single hotdog and soda at the downtown food truck I liked. But that was fine too.

  I loitered around downtown for a couple hours, until the sun started to set. Going home straight after school always sucked — there was never anything fun to do. Mom would always come back past midnight because of her extra shifts, and the house would just feel eery. There was the family computer, but I didn't really use it that much besides importing MP3 files into my walkman. If I browsed the net for too long, I would end up in some weird forum filled with slur-spouting trolls. I did have my manga in my backpack, which I tried to get the new release of at the start of every week — but reading them in public spaces also felt kinda awkward. As for part-time jobs, most places would take one look at me and say something along the lines of 'Sorry, you're too young, kid'. Even though others my age had found their own little jobs.

  If I had a decent amount of pocket money, I would usually spend it at the arcade to play Boulevard Brawler or something. But anyway — loitering really was the best way to spend my time. Compared to other guys my age, I didn't have a girlfriend to hold my hand through the streets. Nor did I have friends to my left and right walking together with me and laughing about dumb stuff — but, again, that was just the way things were.

  As the sun went down, I went to go get my hotdog and coke, just as the food truck was about to close. Not far from the truck, I saw a skinny old man sitting on the street, against a wall, begging people for change. He was missing his legs, from the way the coat he had over himself dropped at the ends of his thighs. Not to mention the short mobility aid canes he had next to him.

  "Spare some change? Spare some change for a poor old man?..." he said in a shriveled voice.

  I looked at my money...

  "...Here, sir. Eat this," I gave him the hotdog I had just bought.

  "Oh thank you, thank you, young man! You're a kind soul!"

  "Oh no, no, sir. You don't need to thank me, you look like you're gonna die of starvation."

  "Thank you, truly!"

  "No problem...Err, do you mind if I ask — do you not have legs?"

  "What's it look like, son?! I lost them in an accident when I was working at construction!"

  "...I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Oh, don't be! That's just how life is!" he grinned at me, revealing a bunch of gaps in his teeth.

  "How did it happen, if that's okay to ask?"

  "Gah! The surgery cost me a fortune, and I got in debt after borrowing a lot of money! Then my wife divorced me and took my two little sunshines with her. Bitch never loved me, anyway! — he said, spitting on the ground, — And, without legs, I couldn't find a decent job! Me having no education and all. Did I tell you I lost these legs working in construction?"

  "Umm, yeah..." poor old man must've gone crazy, seeing how he repeats himself.

  Regardless, the word 'uneducated' struck a strange nerve with me. Him mentioning that reminded me of the earlier meeting at school with the advisor.

  "...Uhh, here. Do you want this soda to wash the hotdog down?" I offered to him.

  "Oh no, no, son! Keep it, I don't want too much from you!

  "...You sure?"

  "Yeah!...Listen, son — kids like you are rare these days! You know what our world today is like?" he rambled.

  "No, what's it like?"

  "It's taught everybody only how to care about themselves! You're a good soul!"

  "T-thank you, sir."

  "Listen, even if I'm like this right now, I'm doing just fine! I ended up drinking all my sorrows away, after all! No matter what happens, the most important thing is that you live! No matter what happens! God always has a plan for you!"

  "Right."

  "Stay in school!"

  "Of course. sir."

  "Hehehe! Now be on your way, and God bless you for the food! I'm sure a young man like you has a girl or two to meet at this hour, right? Don't let me eat up too much of your time!"

  That one hit right home.

  "Oh, I don't have a girlfriend, haha."

  "Whaaat?! Really?!" he yelled, causing the many passersby around us to look at him.

  "...Yep."

  "Listen here, sonny! When I was your age, I was with three or four girls at the same time, haha!...Though, I did get slapped real bad by Veronica when she found out! She was a looker, that one, I tell ya what!

  "Uh-huh..."

  How do I get out of this conversation!? He's rambling... I thought.

  "I was a real hunk back then, believe it or not! Trust me!"

  "I don't doubt you, sir."

  "You little rascal, you, hehe!...Hey, you don't happen to be some sorta fag, right?"

  "H-huh? No, no, I don't swing that way, haha...What makes you say that?" that one caught me off-guard.

  "Cuz you're all skin-and-bones, kid! You look like a dainty little girl with those messy bangs! You gotta pump some iron and get a nice crew cut, ya hear me?!"

  ...God, why did I decide to ask him about his legs...

  "But, listen! Even if you're a fag, I'm sure the right one will come along your way one day! All is fair in love and war, ey?! A lad like you should be having fun while you still have your youth! Got that?!"

  "...Of course I will. And, I'm not gay."

  "Sure, kid. Whatever you say! Now, get outta here!"

  "Stay safe, sir," I said to him, walking away.

  Holding my soda in hand, I had a lot of things I wanted to think about from that conversation. Staying in school, spending my youth memorably, and why I'm so skinny. Despite his...Strange behavior, meeting that old man and conversing with him had to have been the most pleasant part of that day so far.

  ***

  Hmm, I want to take a different route home. Walking the same streets on the way back every time gets boring, I thought.

  Instead of taking the well-lit and crowded path, I decided to explore a slightly different part of the city. One further away from the main commercial districts and gated neighborhoods.

  But I quickly realized that that maybe wasn't such a smart choice to make after all. As I kept walking, the street lights would often blink, with some not working at all. There were few cars, and not a lot of people either. The few that I could see were definitely dressed less nice than the comparatively wealthy businessmen and women of downtown. Though, this city wasn't known for being the safest at night anyway.

  Further down the road, I could hear some faint male laughing. As I passed down a dark and empty block, I saw in the corner of my eye — a group of men bunched up together in an isolated alley, between two worn-down buildings on the other side of the road.

  "Heh, we found a really nice one!" I barely heard one of them say. At a glance, there were probably about five to six large grown men, around their early to mid-twenties. Some with cigarettes in their mouths, wearing sagged jeans and oversized hoodies.

  Curiosity — or, maybe stupidity — getting the better of me, I crossed the road as inconspicuously as I could. But the men didn't seem to notice me anyway.

  Quietly putting my soda down on the ground, I peeked my head over the corner of one of the buildings, seeing what they were up to. What a dumbass I was.

  Surrounded by all of them, up against the wall, stood a young girl. And an extremely cute girl, at that. She was short, pale, and slim — with blonde wavy hair that was parted down the middle, reaching her shoulders. She was wearing a typical high school girls' uniform, with a school bag on her shoulder — so I guess she was the same age as me.

  "Dude, we're super lucky!" one of the men said.

  "Hey, why don't you come hang out with us? We know some really nice bars around here," another one added.

  "I wonder if her friends are also like her! Yo, why don't you call your girls and we all go together? We'll get you some drinks!"

  They said as they huddled up in front of her, with their hands on the wall the girl was leaning against.

  Just some guys, trying their luck with a pretty girl, ...Is what I wanted to tell myself, but there was no way this was just a normal situation.

  There were plenty of girls in my school who deliberately dated college guys and older to get drinks and nice clothes — but this girl wasn't even looking at the guys. She didn't say anything, nor did she move an inch. All she did was meekly hold her hands together in front of her and look straight down to the ground.

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  Plus, these men seemed a bit too pushy, even if they were confident. Not to mention, the six-on-one-in-a-dark-alley-at-night thing didn't sit very well with me.

  And what the hell are you gonna do, you idiot? Look at them. All of them are tatted up and yoked, scars on their knuckles and faces, with bleached buzzcuts and dreads, wearing several spiky metal rings on both hands! You wanna be some dashing white knight on his steed?

  If you're really concerned, why not call other people walking by for help?...No, like strangers ever help each other. Not that there's anybody else around here right now anyway...

  Maybe the police? No, if something did happen right now, the authorities wouldn't come here in time... I kept thinking.

  Just as I was thinking that, the men spoke again.

  "Yo, why isn't she saying anything?"

  "Playing hard to get?"

  The girl still showed no reaction to their presence. Only a tired look in her eyes. Just then, I heard one of them say:

  "Ah, fuck it! Let's just do her right here, right now! I can't hold myself back! No one's around to see this happen at this part of town, at this time of day anyway! I'll go first! Fuck drinks and all that!"

  "Damn, I call dibs for second, then!"

  "Look at those plump lips, shit! She's better than any of the chicks I've met at the club!"

  "Forget about bitches from the club! She could be a top-tier actress or model or whatever the fuck!"

  "Haha yeah yeah!"

  I wanted to just walk away. Pretend like I didn't see or hear any of it. Yet, something in my brain was pushing me to do something, and that made my legs shake a bit.

  You know what? Dad would be ashamed of me if I walked away now. What's one jumping gonna do to me anyway? Not like this is the first time... I thought.

  Without thinking anything else, I ran into the alley straight to the douchebags in front of me. Gathering momentum, I kicked one of them in the back as hard as I could.

  As one fell to the ground, the others immediately looked at me.

  "What the fuck are you doing, asshole?!"

  I didn't say anything, as I stepped forward again.

  I threw a right at the face of one guy in front of me — only to have him suddenly push his forehead against my fist, stopping it midway. A sharp pain ran through my hand like electricity.

  Out of nowhere, I was tackled by another one from my right.

  As I tried to push him away, a third one thew a punch at my face. The spiky metal rings I saw on his fingers before slashed my cheek.

  I could immediately see blood from my cheek dripping onto the back of the head of the guy tackling me, as my head began spinning and my feet lost balance. After that, I got punched and kicked everywhere on my body some more.

  Before I realized, I was on all fours on the ground, covering my head and showing my back to them, as the men repeatedly stomped on me and kicked me in the chest and stomach. I must've been filled with adrenaline, because their hits had stopped hurting a while ago.

  Welp, at least they'll probably be done with me soon and leave, I thought. But just as I was talking to myself...

  "This pussy kicked me in the back! You're not getting off that easy!" I heard one say, before an extremely ominous *zzhing* sound resounded through the alley the next moment.

  Immediately, I got up and turned to face them — when I saw a switchblade being wielded by the man I kicked earlier.

  I don't know if it was just panic, but I tried to get out of the alley while running backwards. Stupid idea. Just as quickly as I got up, I stumbled onto the ground again, falling on my butt.

  'Is this it?' I thought, as I saw the armed man lunging at me, the thing's tip pointed straight at my face.

  I winced and raised my arm in front of my face, closing my eyes.

  ...But nothing happened.

  Within the next half-second, all the men screamed in pain in quick succession of one another, as I heard several loud thuds. Then, the ring of metal clinking against the ground.

  I opened my eyes slowly, lowering my hand.

  ...The blonde girl from earlier was standing right in front of me, her eyes staring at me with those same half-closed lids. Behind her lay all the thugs, knocked out cold. I saw how her uniform and fists were covered in blood — the girl herself expressionless.

  "...W-what just happened?" I asked her.

  She didn't say anything, only looking at me for a few seconds. Without a single word exchanged between us, she dug into her bag and got out what looked to be tissues, bandages, bandaids, ointment, and spraying alcohol. Why did she have all that in her bag?

  The girl then crouched down in front of me, as she reached out to my face.

  "H-hold on! What just happened?!" I asked her again, crawling backwards.

  "What about them? — I pointed to the six unconscious men on the ground — Actually, a-are you okay?" I changed my question.

  "...You're worried about me?...I'm alright. More importantly, let me see your wounds," she spoke to me for the first time ever, only in an incredibly monotone voice.

  "U-uh... Sure..." I calmed down, letting her closer.

  ***

  "Ow, ow, ow!" I yelped as she rubbed some alcohol on the deep cut I got on my cheek earlier.

  "Don't move. Bear with it. It would be even worse if this gets infected," she said, still only focusing on tending to me.

  "Right..."

  "..."

  "..."

  The mutual silence was too much.

  As I saw her concentrated face, it only became even more obvious to me how pretty she was. But, even prettier than that, was the crystal-clear color of her eyes. Under those long lashes were two pure grey pupils. In the moonlight, they honestly looked just like tiny little diamonds.

  Something I also noticed was that — this girl's hands were really rough. Small, thin, delicately-shaped fingers — yet I could see countless faded scars on them. Unlike her porcelain fair face, the skin on her palms was firm and thick.

  I was also kinda surprised by the fact that I couldn't smell any perfume on her when she got closer to put a bandaid on my cut. Granted, all I could really smell at the moment was blood and dust, so maybe it was just me. But I just assumed a girl as pretty as her would have a really distinct girly smell. I guess I was just being a weirdo to think about stuff like that at that moment.

  ...Nevermind all that! Did she just beat them all up by herself? All within a second? Without a single injury? Does she have a taser or something? But that doesn't explain all the bloodstains on her!

  "Done. Take off your shirt," she suddenly said.

  "H-huh?!"

  "I need to see if anything bad happened to your ribs. They kept kicking and stomping on you, right?"

  "...Y-yeah."

  Reluctantly complying, I stood up and unbuttoned my shirt, showing her my chiseled muscles... Is what I wanted to say, but I didn't have any. Still with a blank expression, she simply circled around me, taking a look at my injuries.

  No reaction...Damn. I know I'm skinny, but this is kinda pitiful of you, Milo. It would definitely do you well to gain some meat on you... I thought.

  "...S-so? Is it bad?" I asked.

  "No, nothing's broken, from what I can tell. Just some moderate bruising."

  ...How can she tell if my ribs are broken or not? Actually, I guess that isn't the main mystery here. Speaking of which...Dang, I'm gonna be hurting all over when I wake up tomorrow...

  "I'll wrap bandages around them."

  "Yeah, t-thanks..."

  Holy, this girl is so nice. She's quiet, but she's so kind! And she's probably the cutest girl I've seen in my life! She could be a Hillwood star!

  "..."

  "..." we both stayed quiet, as she wrapped the bandages around my chest.

  "Done. It shouldn't be too tight."

  "Don't worry, it isn't!"

  "That should do. If you don't feel well tomorrow, go to the doctor."

  "Will do...Thank you for helping m-"

  But before I could finish my sentence, she cut me off.

  "...Why did you step in?"

  "...Huh?"

  "Why did you help me? You were outnumbered six-to-one. You could've died just now, one of them had a knife."

  "...Huh? Oh, haha! Well, how do I put it-"

  "This isn't a joke. Why did you help me? There was no benefit to be gotten out of that situation for you just now." she spoke more harshly than before.

  "...Haha, I really don't know how to explai-"

  "Why are you laughing? I'm asking you a serious question."

  "...I mean, what was I supposed to do?"

  "...?" she tilted her head slightly.

  "If I hadn't done something, those sleazeballs would've done some really bad things to you. I know I would have regretted tonight for a long time to come if I hadn't stepped in.

  She still had her head tilted.

  "...Right, it's just — I guess you could call it something like guilty conscience? Yeah, if I hadn't done something, I would've really beaten myself up about it later."

  She didn't say anything after that.

  "Actually, can I ask you something?" I reluctantly spoke up. She looked back at me.

  "What happened after the guy pulled out his knife? They all just went down in an instant, and I didn't see anybody else besides us here. Was that you? Do you, like, know martial arts or something?" I nervously chuckled.

  "...Somebody noticed the fight and threw a bunch of rocks from above, from one of the buildings. They hit all the thugs in their heads and knocked them out."

  "...Huh? H-hold on, that doesn't make any sense at all! I know I saw your fists were all bloodie-..." but when I looked at her hands again, they were spotless.

  "What blood?" she asked.

  I had no choice but to accept her explanation. The two of us quickly turned around the corner and left the alley, trying to get as far away from that area as soon as possible. Right as I turned the corner, I almost stepped right on my soda — I'd forgotten I'd even put it there before everything went down.

  "Sweet! I was feeling really thirsty after all that exercise!" I picked it up and started drinking it.

  "Ah-...Uh, do you want some?" without thinking, I just decided to offer it to her. She took a brief look at the drink.

  "...Pop can cause kidney stones if you have them too frequently," she said, her face as empty as ever.

  "Whaat?! You're telling me you don't drink soda? And who calls it pop?"

  "I've never had it. And the correct name is pop, no?"

  That was the first time she asked me a non-serious question.

  "It's soda! And anyway, c'mon! I don't know a single kid or teen that hasn't had soda! Just a single sip, it's really good! Trust me!"

  She took another brief look at it, before taking it from my hands and sipping it from the straw.

  ...Wait, I just drank out of that. I offered it to her without even thinking about that! So this is technically an indirect kiss!...With a girl I just met! And under such crazy circumstances too!...Hold on. Cool it, Milo. As a man, you have to keep calm...

  But — without even showing a hint of disgust from drinking out of the same straw, she simply sipped on the soda.

  "..."

  "...Well, how is it?"

  "Not bad."

  "Yes! See? Coke has to be in the top fifty inventions of all human history!"

  "..." she sent my way a slight eyebrow raise. I quickly quieted down.

  ***

  As we walked out of that shady neighborhood, I flipped open my cell and realized it was still only 9 PM. Being the second week of September, 9 PM wasn't usually too cold, at least for me.

  "Hey, can I ask you something?"

  Again, without saying anything, she simply looked at me.

  "...How did you even get into that situation? Surely, if those idiots were pestering you, you could've just politely refused them and walked away?” realizing I might've spoken without thinking, I tried to correct myself.

  ”…Or, I guess I'm oversimplifying things, there's no way it could be that easy. They must've pulled you into the alley by force or somethi-"

  "I saw you earlier."

  "Huh?"

  "You were the boy giving the hotdog to that beggar, weren't you? Next to Sunshine Mall downtown," she changed topics.

  "...Y-yeah, you were there?"

  "I saw you from a distance. After that, I went on my way — that was when those thugs came by, while I was walking home, and took me into the alley."

  "...W-well, good thing everything turned out okay, right? Haha!" I nervously joked, realizing what kind of grim fate might've awaited her and me if the two of us hadn't gotten so lucky at the end of that confrontation.

  As we kept walking, I realized we were about to split off. I guess I was the first one to go home. I debated walking her to her house — but I guessed that that would've been a bit too creepy for some stranger, who she had just met, to ask.

  Still, she seemed way too calm — considering everything that had happened to her that day. No signs of shaking, no crying or dried up tears, no calling her parents or friends to tell them what went down, no phoning the authorities to report the creeps.

  I assumed most sensible people would do the things I listed, were they to be almost assaulted like that. I guess this girl was just more cool-headed than the others.

  ...Is she really alright? Maybe she's the type of person that goes into shock when something happens?

  "...U-uh, do you want me to walk you to your house?"

  "What?" she asked.

  "You know, maybe you could get attacked again? Who knows? I'm just a bit worried about you, is all," I said nervously.

  "..." she just stood silently for a few seconds.

  "...Oh! Right, look at me, what an idiot, haha! Here I am, offering to walk you home, when I haven't even asked for your name yet!...If you don't mind?"

  "...You want to know my name?" she asked slowly.

  "Yeah! My name is Milo, by the way!"

  "..." she didn't say anything for another few seconds.

  "...Uh, if you don't want to, then that's also fin-"

  "Pela. My name's Pela."

  "...Wow, that's a really cool name!"

  "...You think so?"

  "Yeah! Nice to meet you, Pela!" I said to her, extending my hand out for a handshake.

  "...Nice to meet you too," she responded, shaking my hand. Her grip was soft, and I was still surprised at how rough her hands were. Maybe she did a lot of housework. Not that I minded her rough hands.

  "...Um, actually — I was wondering if we could exchange our contact info?"

  "...You want my number?"

  "Yeah. It's just — I know we just met, but I think you're really cool! I mean, you did kinda treat my injuries and whatnot, hehe! And I would like to be friends with you, if that's okay with you! If not, then that's also alright," I said, nervous.

  "...Sure."

  Yes! I mentally pumped my fist in the air when I heard her say that.

  After that, we gave each other our phone numbers and went our separate ways. In the end, she said I didn't need to walk her home.

  I remember going home to my bed and lying down, feeling extremely happy. Even though I got jumped, it was all worth it — because I'd met her. It had been a long time since I last had a decent interaction with another teenager. I fell asleep like a baby that night. Unfortunately, I did wake up feeling like crap the day after, because of the beating I took. My head ached all over, too.

  ...Still, that whole fight kept bugging me.

  Did some kind stranger really save the two of us from those gangsters? Was there really anybody in that run-down building? I didn't see any rocks on the ground either, I thought.

  [Chapter END]