It's raining. It rarely does that during this season. My body feels heavy, and my head sounds too loud...It's nauseating.

  “Le..”

  “..on”

  “Leon..”

  “Leon!”

  I reluctantly open my eyes, lips parting as I groan from the pain. My vision is blurry as I squint, but I can make out those familiar raccoon stripes. I close my eyes again, only to reopen them fully. I remember this face.

  “Vad..?” I start coughing, my chest hurting with every breath I take.

  “Hey, take it easy.” Pale, cold hands help me up to my feet. I hold onto his arm, my face scrunching up from the pain. My eyes flick around the area, taking everything in—until they land on her, my best friend, lying in a pool of her own blood.

  I wake up in a pool of my own sweat. My eyes shoot open, and I sit up so fast I almost pass out. Every inhale is shaky, and every exhale feels like work. My body feels sore and wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me. To steady myself, I cover my face with my hands, suddenly too aware of everything—from the way the bed creaks to the sounds of cars outside. Then I hear it: an annoying, grating sound. My alarm. It always goes off at 7:10 AM.

  “Turn that shit off…” Bruce grumbles, shifting to face the wall. I’m quick to comply, snatching my phone from where it's charging, flipping it open to silence the alarm. I check my messages too, and a smile creeps onto my face when I see Jaylin’s usual “Good mornin’ bitch” text.

  The smile fades just as quickly when the image of her dead body flashes through my mind. I shake my head, hoping it’ll erase the dream like an Etch-a-Sketch. It doesn’t. Maybe it wasn’t a dream at all—maybe it was an omen.

  “No, that’s stupid…” I scoff, but there’s still that nagging pull in the back of my mind. A shudder runs through me, and I choose to ignore it as I drag myself out of bed. I stagger to the bathroom, the pain from before now settling into sharp, concentrated spots. I turn on the light, blinking with each flicker. My gaze locks onto the figure in the cracked mirror.

  Skin that was once tan is now a sickening mix of purple and green, stretching down to the eye bags beneath my downturned eyes. My lips press into a thin line as recognition turns into disgust. I force myself to look away. With a swift clicking sound, the bathroom is plunged into darkness. I slowly turn the silver knob above the tub, cringing as it creaks in protest.

  The way the water hits the tub floor reminds me of the rain from that dream—and the blood. There was so much of her blood. But I saw her text this morning. I repeat it over and over as I wash myself, scrubbing my hair extra hard, like it might change what I dreamt of. Like it might make me forget. I saw her text this morning. I saw her text. I saw her… I saw her dead.

  The rest of my morning passes in a blur. Everything sounds and feels like static. I press on the bruises along my arm just to remind myself that this skin belongs to me. When I finally reach my destination, I look up, staring at the building in front of me. There are dozens of windows—some cleaner than others. The bricks that supposedly hold the place together look old, like they’re three seconds away from giving up and taking its residents with them.

  I lower my gaze to the familiar monument sign on the lawn, one that has clearly seen better days. “Hillview High” is spelled out in bold, gold letters, with “Go Jaguars!” written beneath it.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “You just gonna stand there?” a familiar, melodic tone calls out and I turn around, my eyes search the crowd of students. I see the owner of the voice, my best friend, Jaylin Usnavi, and now it feels like the world has begun fixing itself. A grin breaks across my face as I rush toward her. I find myself wrapping my arms around her and burying my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in the recognizable scent of vanilla and weed.

  “I’ll murderize you if you ever die,” I murmur against her skin, and she just hugs back.

  “Bad dream?” she asks as she pushes me away a little so she can see my face. I glance to the side and nod, knowing that if I give her a verbal confirmation, I’ll start crying. She lets out a gentle sigh and flicks my forehead.

  “Ow…what was that for?” I grumble, rubbing the spot she flicked.

  “What am I gonna do with you?” she crosses her arms and rolls her hazel eyes. I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “What’s so funny?” a raspy voice catches my attention. I watch as Ramish wraps an arm around Jaylin’s waist, a curious grin on his face.

  “I don’t know, he just started laughin’.” Jaylin shrugs. I didn’t even know why I was cackling and clutching my stomach, I think it was relief or maybe I finally went insane.

  “Dude, relax. People are staring.” Ramish mutters and it doesn’t take long for my laughter to cease. My skin feels too tight again and my smile turns into something nasty, unapproachable.

  “So? Fuck them.” I snarl, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets. My feet drag against the pavement as I walk into the school. Jaylin and her boyfriend are beside me, like usual. They were talking about plans for their upcoming anniversary, and for some reason, a pang of envy hits me. It’d be nice if Bruce and I were close like that. The thought catches me off guard and I suck my teeth. A group of freshman hear the sound and glance at me warily, like I might attack them. I glare at them just to fuck with them. They gasp, look away, and their shoes squeak as they scamper away.

  “What class you got first, babes?” Jaylin questions as she walks hand in hand with Ramish.

  “Calculus with Mrs. Pissant, remember?” I exasperate. She gives me a hum of acknowledgement, pity bleeding into the sound.

  Then–out of nowhere–I collide into someone. I manage to steady myself, but the guy I crashed into goes down hard, landing on his ass with a pained groan. I narrow my eyes at him, taking him in: lanky limbs, pasty skin, rectangular glasses–and raccoon stripes.

  The ones I thought weren’t real.

  The noise around me fades away. All I can hear is the rain again, feel the ache spreading through my body. All I can see is the blood. Jaylin’s blood. A shaky breath escapes my lungs and my skin feels tighter. My shoulder feels unusually warm, then I realize Jaylin had her hand on me. She’s alive, you can relax. My skin loosens and the pain ebbs.

  “Watch where you’re fucking going, retard.” I snap, my face scrunched up in disdain.

  “S-S-Sorry.” He stammers as he slowly stands up.

  “S-S-Sorry.” I mock. “Shut the fuck up, jackass. Apparently those dumbass glasses ain’t doin’ shit for you.” If looks could kill, this guy would be dead already. I stare him down, even after he stood to his full height. I didn’t care that he was about half a foot taller than me–maybe even my type.

  This dipshit bumped into me.