Kieran’s perspective, in this new world
The sunlight stread through the classroom windows, bathing the entire room in a warm glow. I sat at my desk, second row from the front, right next to the door. The chatter of my classmates filled the air, so talking about last night’s shows, others gossiping about aningless dramas.
Since I couldn’t join in their conversation, as I had no clue what they were on about, since I wasn’t allowed on the TV.
I stayed quiet, resting my chin on my hand and staring out of the window from my seat afar.
There was this weird hum in the air, like a storm was about to break. Then the teacher walked in, his usual morning scowl in place, and clapped his hands to grab everyone’s attention.
Alright, settle down. We’ve got a new transfer student today.”
New transfer student? Great. Another person to add to the class roster of people I didn’t care about. The only reason I was happy about it was there was a free seat next to , so they would probably end up sitting next to , which would annoy him since I like my free space.
I leaned back in my chair, stretching while staring at the door without much interest.
That’s when he walked in.
It was him. I just know it.
That boy.
He stepped into the room with an effortless stride. He didn’t have a grocery bag on his head this ti though, just a clean school junior uniform, his jumper slightly loose since it is most likely the next bigger size. His hair was neat but also untidy all at once, and his posture was straight but relaxed.
His eyes? Calm. Cold. Observant.
He was, of course, smaller than , around 4’6”. In the daylight, without blood staining his hands, he looked normal. Just another kid. Except I knew better than all the other fools in this room that he is more than he looks.
“My na is Roy,” he said with a tone that struck a perfect balance between polite and detached. His voice was steady and unassuming, but there was sothing about the way he spoke that commanded attention from everyone. “I recently transferred here, so I hope we can all get along.”
His lips curled into a faint, practised smile. One that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
There wasn’t anything special about what he said, but the way he said it, the way his eyes seed to scan the room, pausing for just a second on , made it clear he wasn’t like the rest of us.
I didn’t react. No wide-eyed shock. No blurting out his na like in those annoying anis I see while walking to the electronic store; the uncle over there allows to sit down and watch anis. I think he just pitied back then; I just followed him with my eyes, leaning back in my chair and watching the scene unfold.
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Roy turned to the teacher, his posture impeccable, may I say, and whispered. “Where should I sit, sir?”
The teacher quickly scanned the room to find an open chair and instantly saw the one next to , not the one right at the back next to a girl, but the one right next to .
The teacher pointed to the seat next to mine. “Right there, next to Kieran.”
Roy’s eyes flicked toward , and for a fraction of a second, they lingered on . I don’t know if it was paranoia back then, but it felt weird; that’s all I can say, to be honest. It wasn’t the sa unhinged stare from the night before, but it wasn’t entirely normal either. There was sothing to it, like he was looking through rather than at .
I thought for a second, What a weird guy.
He walked over and sat down without a word, throwing his bag under our desk.
The room buzzed with renewed chatter about the new guy, and it looked like Roy knew they were talking about him, but he didn’t seem to care.
He just sat there until he was given a piece of paper by the teacher and started jotting notes down from the whiteboard.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, my mind racing with questions. What the hell was he doing here?
I understand that we are the sa age and all that, but why this school?
There are three other junior schools in the area that have better standards than here, so why this school?
But I didn’t ask.
Instead, I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and staring straight ahead.
The hum of the classroom faded into the background as I tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Roy, the sa guy who had worn a grocery bag on his head while cutting down rcenaries, was now sitting next to in our uniform like nothing had happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his hand move in smooth, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t writing notes or doodling. It was sothing else entirely. Then I saw it—a faint shimr of prana tracing across the surface of his desk, vanishing before anyone else could notice.
Prana writing.
I shifted my gaze to under our desk, tracing the sa shimr on its surface. Words appeared slowly, fading almost as quickly as they appeared.
I have questions, so I asked him.
“Why are you here?” I wrote, keeping my expression neutral; my eyes looked at the whiteboard so as not to get the teacher's attention.
Roy didn’t even flinch. He continued scribbling on his piece of paper as though nothing was happening. A mont later, more prana shimred across my desk.
“I was forced too?”
I nearly snorted. Of course, he’d be sarcastic. I wiped the text away with a swipe of my finger and responded:
“Right, what do you want?”
For a few seconds, there was nothing. Roy kept writing in his paper, completely unbothered. Then, with the sa deliberate motion, the prana on my desk flickered again.
“I just got transferred to the orphanage downtown.”
I frowned, rubbing a hand over my face to hide my reaction. I’d known Roy for less than 24 hours, and he was already impossible to predict but weirdly open.
“Damn,”
The thing was I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just said that, but damn am I stupid.
When lunch rolled around, we kids were not allowed inside school, as there were no guardians there to take care of us, so we were all forced outside, where there would be two teachers out patrolling to make sure all of the kids were safe.
I and Roy just happened to be under the sa tree; the only reason I ca to eat at the tree was that it was nice, with the wind and the scenery, and I could just lie down a bit against the tree. As for Roy, I don’t know why he sat there.
He didn’t say much at first. Just sat there, chewing away at his free school al like it was fuel, not food ant to be enjoyed.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Do you dream much?”
I blinked at him, caught off guard. “Yeah, well, sotis. Why?”
He shrugged, still not looking at . “I never do. Just black. Every night. No images. No sound. Just... nothing.”
There was a strange calm in the way he said it.
“Sounds kind of peaceful, but sad at the sa ti,” I said, unsure if I ant it.
He looked at then, and for a split second, sothing in his eyes flickered, sothing too quiet to na. Then it was gone.
“Anyway,” he added, biting into the crust of his sandwich, “that teacher of ours looks like he’s one bad cup of coffee away from throwing himself out the window.”
The shift in tone made laugh, more out of confusion than anything else. “Yeah,” I said. “He probably is.”
And just like that, the weight of the mont passed.
Roy’s humour was dry, flat, and a little too tid, but it worked.
Disarming in the weirdest way.
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