Renjiro freezes. The smile dies instantly, wiped from his face as if it never existed. He slowly turns his head, his eyes widening just a fraction of an inch.
A shadow falls over him.
Mako pops her head around the corner of the corrugated metal siding. Her black ponytail sways in the gentle spring breeze. Her blue eyes lock onto him with terrifying precision.
Of course. She found me. She always does.
It does not matter if he uses the blind spots of the cameras and it does not matter if he walks across the concrete so he does not leave footprints in the dirt because she possesses a supernatural-like radar tuned specifically to his laziness.
But this time, Renjiro does not feel annoyed. He just feels a deep, calm sense of finality.
He looks up at her, slipping the elite envelope back into his inner pocket.
Sorry, he thinks, leaning his head back against the metal shed. This is the last time we'll ever talk again.
He almost feels bad about it. She carried his social burdens for years and she acted as a great buffer against the exhausting masses of the school. But the Mako Tax is simply too high to pay for the rest of his life.
I'll be moving soon and you will never bother my peaceful nap ever again.
"I looked everywhere for you," Mako says. She steps into the shade, holding a rolled-up graduation diploma in one hand. She does not sit down in the dirt this time. Instead, she stands over him, blocking out the sun.
"I'm busy," Renjiro replies while staring at a patch of weeds near his shoe.
"You're literally staring at dirt."
"It's very complicated dirt."
Mako ignores his deflection. She shifts her weight from side to side, suddenly looking a little nervous. The energetic bounce leaves her posture. She clutches her diploma tightly against her chest.
"Renji," she starts, her voice dropping a few decibels. "You see, I received a recommendation letter from an elite school."
Renjiro stops breathing.
His lungs just refuse to operate. The blood in his veins turns into cold slush. He freezes, completely paralyzed against the metal wall. He stares at the weeds, but his vision blurs.
He must have heard her wrong. The wind probably distorted her words. Or maybe he is experiencing a very specific, terrifying hallucination brought on by low blood sugar.
He slowly lifts his head and blinks twice.
He coughs, a dry, harsh sound tearing out of his throat.
"Elite school?" Renjiro asks. His voice sounds thin. Weak. "What... what is the name?"
Mako smiles. It is a bright, sunny, terrifyingly cheerful smile. She reaches into her skirt pocket and pulls out a crisp, premium-quality envelope with a wax seal.
She holds it out for him to see.
"Advanced Nurturing High School," Mako says, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "We get to go together, Renji! Isn't that amazing?"
The envelope is identical to the one resting against his ribs.
The silence shatters. The perfect, white room dormitory in his mind collapses into a pile of loud, exhausting rubble. The three-year nap goes up in flames.
He stares at the letters printed on her envelope. It does not make any sense.
He runs the basic math in his head. This is a government-funded, highly exclusive, elite school. The odds of a single student from an average middle school receiving a recommendation are incredibly low. The odds of two students receiving one? And both of those students just happen to be childhood friends?
What a strange coincidence. The math just doesn't work.
Either the school actively drafts from specific geographic clusters, or whoever approved my file saw her name right next to mine and just stamped it too. Maybe they recruit in pairs.
Whatever the reason, the numbers are ruined. The result is standing right in front of me, blocking the sun.
Then it begins.
The nightmare continues.
Renjiro lets his head fall back against the corrugated metal with a dull thud. He closes his eyes. The weight of the world settles squarely onto his shoulders, crushing him down into the dirt.
"Oh brother," he mutters to the empty air.