Story

Terry blinked, worrying he’d missed something. There had been a moment… just a moment, when he’d felt zoned out. It happened sometimes. He tuned in to the teacher’s statements. “So we find that Azeria’s short story therefore speaks to us about inclusion and exclusion. Ingroups and outgroups. And it asks the fundamental question: how do you know who to trust?”Terry hastily wrote notes down on his desk. A sharp, bright breath issued from off to his right. He glanced over. Ard

“Again.” Taking in a deep breath, Marin rose up on her toes. She vaulted forward, first on one foot, then the next, turned, spun with her arms in the air, twisted gracefully in a pirouette. She leapt again and bowed on one foot, the other sticking far out behind her, only for her to bring it in and bend it and spin again on her single foot. She crossed a foot before her other foot and twirled and spun and leapt and flew, sweat beading in her black hair, knit carefully in a b

Saera tapped her stylus idly on the screen that was her desk. Her silver white eyes drifted absently over the blank canvas, dotted here and there by the black digital ink that the tip of her stylus produced. Her eyes grew half-lidded, and she sifted through the mostly-empty miasma of her current thoughts. A flicker came across her mind, then, and she began to write. A turning In and out, Over, over, Drifting, gazing But then her thoughts went dead, and the little inspiration

Marin went to her Ballet elective then, and Ardo went to Algebra, while Saera and Terry went to Theory of Knowledge. Ardo and Marin passed each other in the halls on the way to their respective classes, and they shot glares at each other as they went their separate ways. Saera and Terry passed an enjoyable hour in Theory of Knowledge, both of them relieved that there was not another speech on the Ravaging. After this, Ardo and Terry reunited in Photography. Terry was intrigu

The class continued, and then the bell rang, and it was done. Saera packed up her things next to him silently and efficiently, while Terry felt compelled to linger, slowly moving like he was caked in mud. His phone, his notebook, the books he was reading, they all slowly slipped into his backpack. Saera glanced over her shoulder at him, as she moved for the door. He caught her eyes just briefly, but then looked down again. It wasn’t a comfortable thing, meeting new people. No

“Now,” said Mr. Simeon, looking up from his screen, “this is Homeroom, where you’ll receive all your notices and assignments for your remaining classes of the day. We don’t have much of an agenda today, since it’s the first day of school, so we’ll just be cycling through some forms and permission files you’ll need to download and take home to your parents. They should already have their own copies by now, but you’ll need your  version to have their electronic signatures.” Ma

Soft and gently came the green light shining, peering through the darkness. The green light, green digits, glowed gently, faintly, in the midst of the darkened room. Suddenly, like lightning from the sky, they brightened, and began to pulse. They flashed, and as they flashed, a chime, soft but insistent, issued through the air. It was calculated, precisely programmed, to drive a human mind from slumber. Saera’s eyes came open. She breathed out, a sigh, which filtered through