“Jack!” someone whispered.

  Warm air hugged my face and baked the green grass under me. Then there was the distant chatter. I forgot. I was at school, sitting under a giant, old tree. My bookbag laid wide open for any bugs to crawl inside. I rubbed my forehead, trying to massage the weight out. My notebook was open in my lap, filled with doodles and sloppy writing about griffins and unicorns.

  My eyes focused on a pair of bulky combat boots in front of me. I looked up to see Korey, tossing a soccer ball hand-to-hand. Leaves collected in his plumed, tangerine hair from a rough, unfair game—one where he forced himself to win.

  “Finally, you're awake,” he said. “Should've stayed home.”

  “I’m not allowed,” I yawned.

  “Me neither.”

  I squinted at him, skeptical to say the least.

  “At least I'm in the room when I am here.”

  My dream faded in and out of my mind. The silhouette of a boy with golden eyes. Clouds of blue dust gathered at his knees. It looked so familiar…

  My eyes drifted across the warm, green grass tickling my clenched hands. Cicadas chirped from the leaves above. I stared up to see them, hoping my dingy glasses could pick up on one.

  Korey dropped the soccer ball and kicked it so hard, it glided across the grass and all the way to the distant bleachers. The sound made me flinch. As I watched, I noticed the concrete picnic tables a few yards away. A dark red bookbag laid on the seat beside Dorothy. Her blood red hoodie hid her thick braids and matched her dark skin. She hunched over a book, probably Trident’s Lane.

  “No wonder you're failing,” Korey snarked. “You can't pay attention.”

  He kneeled down, snatched the glasses from my face, and ran into the field.

  “Korey!” I laughed, and jumped to my feet to follow. “Korey, stop!”

  He rushed behind the picnic table, scaring Dorothy. She hid her book with her baggy sleeves.

  As I grabbed Korey's wrist, he readied his arm to throw my glasses, right into the crazed pit of soccer players.

  Crunch!!

  His face slowly dimmed.

  I let go. “What happened?”

  He opened his hand and pinched the hinge of the frames, letting the loose lenses fall to the soft grass. The same grass that was trampled by hundreds of students and crawling with ants.

  I took a deep breath through my nose to keep my face cool. Korey didn't need to—he was satisfied.

  I gently plucked the lenses from the ground. They were covered in dirt.

  “I have some Clorox wipes in my bag,” Dorothy said, standing up.

  ?????

  We all sat back down in silence. Nothing but shouting and the impending doom of a soccer breaking the glasses mid-cleanse.

  As Dorothy wiped the lenses, she looked at both of us. “Have you seen a pamphlet anywhere? It has big yellow on the cover.”

  Korey reached into his inner pocket. “Talking about this?”

  He pulled a bright, laminated pamphlet. He fanned himself with it before he handed it over.

  Immediately, my eyes hurt from all the colors. Bold, yellow text read “Ovidie Day Club for Boys and Girls”. Plastered on the front was a group of smiling teenagers, waving at us.

  “I’ve been there before!” I looked back to Dorothy. “In the second grade.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Me too, in third. It was probably funner, then.”

  “It’s only been, like, nine years… nevermind.”

  “What is it, exactly?” Korey asked.

  “It’s a recreational thingy my mom signed me up for,” Dorothy explained. “It's just games, sports, learning, and other stuff. I have to learn how to swim.”

  She gently laid the lenses in my hands.

  “So it's school without the grades,” Korey quipped, putting his head down to rest his chin in his arms. “Right up my alley.”

  “Basically,” she said.

  As I wrestled the lenses back into the frames, the knowledge of my failing grades flashed through my head. So did Mom’s angered face. Even without the referral, I was screwed. If only my glasses made me as smart as I looked… then I would’ve passed with flying colors. But I'm still stupider without them. What was even the point of fixing them?

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  I stared at them. I didn’t feel any joy anymore, not even the summer heat. I couldn’t even feel the laughter on my lips from seconds ago.

  “You could just walk around the corner and into a party in the Big Apple, huh?” I muttered, pushing my glasses back on my face.

  “Around the corner and into a baby shower,” Korey said.

  “Didn't you have the baby shower last summer? For your cousin?”

  “Yeah. He gets around.”

  “Make some room!” a guy running towards the bench yelled. His shaggy black hair stuck in his eyes, making him trip over his baggy pants. He dove next to the picnic table and crawled behind me.

  Dorothy stood up. “Jamie! Wh—”

  A soccer ball pummeled against the table right in front of her. She grabbed it and chucked it back into the field. I looked down to my right to see Jamie cozying up in the grass. He reached under the table, grabbed my shoelaces, and twirled them around his finger.

  I crossed my legs. “Why are you being attacked?”

  He smirked and stood up, brushing the nature off of his black sweatshirt. “Just making myself known before the year ends.”

  “It worked! We were just talking about unfortunate events.” Dorothy mocked.

  “You’re going to the Day Club, not me.”

  He sat down beside Korey, and ruffled his shoulder. “Canada! What’s up?”

  “You’re stepping on my bag,” Korey sighed a laugh.

  “I’m surprised you have one…”

  Jamie reached under the table and pulled up Korey’s camouflage bookbag. He plopped it between them.

  “Didn't say you could touch it,” Korey complained under his breath, and unzipped it.

  Seashells, two weird looking phones, a golf ball, dice… the clicking and clacking of knick-knacks. It looked like a thrift store there. He's probably done more in a week than I could do in five months.

  “Hold on, I got it…” he hissed.

  After seconds of disgruntled searching, he pulled out a snow globe—still intact somehow—with a mini evergreen forest inside. His name was engraved in gold on the black base, with another name at the bottom, though I couldn't make out the letters.

  His grip tightened around the bottom before he handed it to me.

  “Summer present,” he chuckled.

  “Thanks?” I was bewildered. “Now I can pretend I’m somewhere else.”

  I kept my hold gentle and off the warm glass. I couldn’t believe my eyes… It was beautiful. And confusing. I wanted to ask why he gave it to me, but I never asked him why he did anything. I sat, waiting for the name of the store he got it from. Why a snow globe and not a pack of gummy bears?

  “Where’s our random, expensive gift?” Jamie joked, pointing to himself and Dorothy. “You don't like us?”

  Thunder growled in the sky, catching everyone's stare, while the shadows of storm clouds darkened the grass. Korey's eyes widened, like he suddenly remembered something.

  One minute, it was sunny and bright. Now, you would've never known there was a sun. Water soaked the grass and dripped from the leaves above us. Everyone, even the aggressive soccer players, stopped to gaze at the sky, groaning.

  I realized I was still holding the snow globe made of fragile glass. I lifted my bookbag onto the table and opened it up. Realizing I had a scarf leftover from winter, I wrapped it. As I zipped it up, silence muffled the table.

  Korey was frozen, his silver eyes locked onto my bag. I traced his gaze to my hands.

  “What?” I asked.

  Dorothy, Jamie, and I caught each other's gaze.

  “What’s this?” he whispered, leaning forward to peel back the opening with his fingers. A faint marine light glowed from the inside. His eyebrows furrowed, like he had an answer stirring in his head.

  Oh no…

  I grabbed his wrist. Immediately, my heart sank at the cold eyes sticking into me. His skin ran hot under mine.

  “It’s a light…” I drawled, racking my brain for a reason. “For a present. Guess we had the same idea.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and my grip tightened. Suddenly, his icy scowl melted to the relaxed smile he had before.

  “Don’t want anyone else seeing it too,” he said. Weird. He slipped from my hold, and closed the bookbag shut.

  “It's gonna be pretty cool.” Jamie nudged him.

  “Cool incarnate,” Dorothy boasted.

  Korey took a deep, surprised breath, like he never heard them speak before, and whisked his hand away. He hauled his bag over his shoulder and stood up.

  “Anyway,” he said. “It’s not getting any brighter out. I should head back now.”

  “Where?” I asked. “The day isn’t over.”

  “It is for me.”

  He pursed his lips and huddled on with his head hung low. A terrible, white fence led to a gravel path. A teacher by the corner of the school building, near the parking lot. They exchanged words, shook hands, and he was on his way.

  “I still don’t get it,” Dorothy said.

  “He’s just…disinterested,” I mused, gazing out into the field. “And we shouldn’t talk about people behind their backs.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Speaking of which,” Jamie said. “Look what I found!”

  He pulled a wrapped donut out of his bookbag. The smell of hot sugar made my worries melt away for a second.

  “Not sure I want a donut smothered in your shirt.” She pretended to gag. “I think you're taking the grunge thing too literally.”

  “You’ve had the same bookbag for eight years.”

  “It's well-loved.”

  “So am I.”

  “Can I have it?” I asked. “I barely ate this morning.”

  He handed it to me.

  “You know, if you're staying at your mom-mom’s, you can't be that picky,” Jamie said. “Donuts are donuts, smothered or not.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I just didn't want to leave Caedispear.”

  “You don’t like staying at your mom-mom’s house?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I do, but I haven’t been there in a while.”

  Taking a bite of the donut, I noticed a bit of blue dust glimmering on the side of the paper bag. The same marine light…

  A staff member blew their whistle and yelled. “2:00! We’re going inside! Get all of your stuff or you’re not getting it back!”