“Attention all passengers, this is your captain speaking. My name is Carter Armlet, and I have the lovely joy of flying you all to Athens, Greece. It’s a beautiful country with a rich history, so I hope you enjoy your trip. Just bear with us as we complete our pre-flight checklist, and we’ll be in the air before you know it.” 

Mekka Academy’s class 2-F was packed into a plane headed for another country. Since the sun hadn’t risen yet, it was almost pitch black out. Most students were glued to their phones, posting last-minute social media updates or sending messages to friends and family. They wouldn’t have a chance to do that once we were in the sky, so I suppose this was their last opportunity until we landed. Judging from our pilot’s announcement, we were just minutes from taking off.  

As for me? My phone was about to die, so I was doing all I could to get through an article on ancient military strategy and how the history of war could have changed if guns were a thing 5,000 years ago. It was honestly incredible that some of the plans and schemes created thousands of years ago were still in use today. It was astounding that man had evolved from sticks and stones to spears and arrows to guns and ICBMs. If you were to ask the brightest minds of a century ago, they would have never imagined a world where it was possible to control a missile-equipped drone to strike a target the size of a watermelon on the other side of the planet. 

The screen flickered for a second, then turned black, marking the end of one of the few joys I had in life. My charger broke a day prior, and it would take me months to scrounge enough money to replace it. 

That’s fine. It isn’t like anyone calls or texts me. I should be happy the academy decided to give me one. Even if it’s the oldest model, it’s still something.  

“Your phone died?” said Will, who sat to my left. I only conversed with him at school, but that was good enough. Will mentioned he wanted the window seat, so I was more than happy for him to claim it. His small stature meant I would have more space since he wouldn’t have to lean over me to stare out the window. 

“Yeah.” My reply was brief and quick, with a hint of an apathetic tone thrown in for good measure, but he knew there was nothing sinister or antagonistic behind it. It was the same with Greggie and Keeth, who sat in the seats behind us.  

Greggie leaned forward and handed me a cable, but I didn’t take it. “Ah, that’s right. You got the 42c. I don’t think those models have been sold in a decade,” he said in his deep voice. 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the past. Take the M1903 Springfield. It’s over 300 years old, but man does it hold up in beauty,” I said, swooning over its fantastical design. These three had already known I was a gun nut, and they had accepted that fact. We all had our quirks. Will was obsessed with lewdness, Greggie was a foodie, and Keeth enjoyed building models.  

“It’s a bolt action, right? I’m not too big into guns, but I thought everything was automatic nowadays.” Greggie pulled back his hand and presumably pocketed the cable. He had started to develop an interest in guns after meeting me. 

“It is, but a few—” Before I could answer my big-boned friend, an obnoxious group of people and their voices drowned me out. 

“Tokko, you’re gonna help me snag some girls, right? I’ve kinda been on a dry streak.”  

“No, Damon. It’s time for you to stand on your own two feet. Besides, I’ve got plans,” replied Tokko. He ran a few fingers through his short-cut blond hair, then rubbed the three earrings in his left ear. 

“Those plans better include me,” said a girl who sat in the row ahead of them. She stood up, turned around, and sat on her knees in her chair. A wave of brown hair soared across her hazel eyes. A slender hand reached out, almost touching Tokko’s face. 

“You know it, Mia,” Tokko whispered. He raised his right hand, which had a tattoo of a diamond on it, and reached forward until his fingers slid down Mia’s face. 

“Eh, I thought you were talking to me. Hey, why don’t we share a night together? You know you want to be with the D-Man.” Damon flashed an insincere smile that he thought was gentle and warm, but his rugged outfit, complete with a crude leather jacket and a spiked bracelet, reflected his nature as a conflict-loving delinquent. His heterochromatic eyes gave way to his lustful thoughts. 

Mia groaned, gagged, and smiled at Tokko with her eyes. 

“And now you’re going to make lovey-dovey eyes in front of me? Are you bastards trying to make me jealous? Shiku, help me get laid!” Damon tapped the head of the guy sitting in front of him. 

“Jesus Christ, just shut up already! We haven’t left the airport, and you’re already making me wish I was dead!” Shiku stood up out of his seat and turned around, sending black hair scattering angrily across their green eyes. Though his voice and body were soft and feminine, Shiku was definitely male and often beat up anyone who suggested otherwise. His slim-fitting t-shirt stubbornly clung to his chest, which unintentionally emphasized how feminine he was. The pants he wore outlined his narrow waist and unnaturally wide hips. After a vote to decide the prettiest girl in school, he somehow snatched the silver medal. It was much to his demise, really, and he was unnaturally depressed for a few days. 

I wonder if he dresses that way on purpose just so he can have an excuse to fight? He is a martial artist. 

“Tch! Those bastards... Just because they’re aristocrats...” Will didn’t finish his sentence. Aristocrats referred to the best of the best of Mekka Academy, which itself stood at the top of the merit-driven society we lived in. Only prodigies and geniuses had a chance to apply, and it wasn’t assured they would get it.  

Tokko ruled the entire academy since he was simply unmatched. Mekka Academy forbade tattoos or earrings, but aristocrats circumvented the rules. 

I just remained quiet and listened to Will grumble to himself, which was something he did a lot. 

“You saw Mia when we were boarding, right? Her outfit is ridiculous, even for the aristocrat’s standards! The cut-off top that ends above her belly button... That short skirt… I mean, her ass is constantly on display!! You saw it when she bent over to adjust her socks, right? That tight ass was just calling my name past that skinny pink thong! Like that sexiness should be illegal. Hey, you think she gets wet off having people stare lustfully at her?” At times like this I just ignored Will. 

Even for an outsider, it was odd seeing people from such different backgrounds getting along so well. Compared to the aristocrats speaking so loudly as always, my friends were like night and day.  

Will was somewhat overly antagonistic and tended to speak what was on his mind. Greggie was a gentle giant, and he filled out his seat in a way that had made it a struggle for the average-sized Keeth to shuffle past him when we boarded the plane. 

Greggie was Will’s physical opposite. That even extended to his voice. Will’s was scratchy and high-pitched, but Greggie had a deep southern drawl that lingered on certain words. When we got together in class or at lunch, the topic of our personal lives never came up. But if we were quiet, then Keeth was like a mime. His mouth only opened to answer questions when directly asked. I had only seen him initiate a conversation two or three times. 

We kept to the shadows because we hated standing out. It was the one thing we all shared, and I suppose that was the link to our rather fragile friendship, which was only tested at school. 

Three girls near Damon said they wanted to be his, and he let out a hearty chuckle and said Shiku’s services wouldn’t be needed. Then those three started to bicker over the right to sleep with Damon, revealing personal and intimate details I did not want to hear. I wasn’t the only one feeling grossed out.  

Lori and Ann sat in the seats behind the delinquent and audibly groaned to the point of exhaustion. They were twins blanketed in a thick fog of mystery because they rarely allowed a stranger to intrude upon their sisterly relationship. But they didn’t have an issue helping someone if they needed it. They weren’t official aristocrats, but it was safe to say they had the perks of being one.  

Since they were twins, it made sense that they were like two peas in a pod, but that didn’t extend to their hobbies or clothing. Lori was the flashier dresser, wearing jewelry and clothing that probably showed a bit too much. Ann dressed more conservatively, wearing muted-colored clothing that covered her from neck to foot.  

A few weeks prior, Will told me that Ann had more admirers than Lori because of the mystery of imagining what was under her clothes. He said a person’s sexiness was inversely proportional to the amount of clothing they wore because it required more imagination or something. Honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention when the conversation switched to Lori’s mastery of the spear and Ann’s otherworldly capability with the katana. And then, of course, his mouth had to keep running. 

“I mean, a pair of incestuous trophy-winning sisters who’re unmatched in their respective schools of combat? If anything as absurd as that was to happen, it would be at Mekka Academy. But seeing two sisters make out? I wouldn’t complain about that. It might be kinda hot. You got the yin and yang type of thing going on, yeah? You gotta have yin in yang, and you gotta have yang in yin. And in this case, you need Lori in Ann and Ann in Lori. It mathematically works out because the name Loriann comes from… You guessed it, Lori and Ann!” he had said at the time. 

 I didn’t really put any thought into baseless rumors, so I just tuned him out whenever I thought he was getting annoying. Greggie did his best to steer the conversation into something more appropriate, which was sometimes hard.  

Sometimes I wished Will was as quiet as Keeth. 

“Sister, when do you think we’ll leave?” asked Lori. 

“I don’t know, sister. I do hope it’s soon. For more than one reason, as you can imagine,” replied her twin, who shook her head, sending a black ponytail left and right. Lori leaned over and gently grabbed it, slowing it down as a symbol of sisterly affection. 

“Of course, sister. Thank you.” 

Meanwhile, Damon just ate up all the attention, even grinning when he realized it was good advertisement about his prowess in bed. If anything, it seemed he was getting off on it... “Please, keep it up,” he said. Since he wasn’t in the window seat, he scooted into the airplane’s hallway and took a bow or two. 

The girl sitting in front of me shook with irritation. She looked up from her book and took a deep breath. 

“Could you please quiet down, Damon? It’s hard to read!” she said, shaking her head in frustration.

This was Quella, the quiet girl of the class. She was an aristocrat in name only. Other than her extraordinarily bright mind, the most notable thing about her was probably her lack of attentiveness when it came to certain things like clothing and common sense. I assume it was her naivety or aloofness at hand because she was one of those rich, pampered girls, but it was like she didn’t know how ‘mature’ her body was. She often wore her medium-length red hair in pigtails while wearing clothing a size or two too small. Her shirt was constantly hugging against her sizable chest, and it would ride up her stomach if she had to reach for something on a shelf. As the class president, she should have known better, but it was like she didn’t think it was worth worrying about. 

Once when that happened, Greggie mentioned that Quella was selfishly myopic, and she chose to purposely ignore anything that didn’t line up with her immediate goal. 

As for her current attire, she nearly shocked everyone when the family limo dropped her off at the airport. For the first time in a while, her clothing choices made sense. Here was a girl who always wore things that didn’t match, like a shirt that didn’t fit and baggy jeans with heeled shoes, or a tight tank top over a dress that came to her ankles with sneakers. I don’t know if her mother picked her clothes out this morning, or if it was one of the other girls in class, but I overheard a particular friend of mine talk about how drop-dead gorgeous she was. I... I didn’t really see it. He must’ve seen a goddess or something, but I just saw a girl in my class. 

I only noticed her clothes because Will was practically screaming in my ears. He spoke endlessly about the stockings on her legs, her black skirt, the blazer she wore, and the hairband in her hair, which according to him, was the key to unlocking a girl’s cuteness. 

“Ah, so the bookworm can speak? How joyous!!!!” exclaimed Damon. He skipped down the hall to our row of seats, gasping that it was a miracle, which seemed to piss Quella off. She was never one to get mad or upset, but I guess everyone had a breaking point. 

“Please, just be quiet. It is early in the morning, and after I finish this book, I want to take a nap. I can’t do that if you’re being loud, obnoxious, rude, loud, rude, and obnoxiously, irritating loud.” Quella responded with a voice like unbendable material, choosing to repeat certain words for added effect. Sighing, she shook her head and put a hand to her scarlet hair. A wave of annoyance washed down her face. Damon had reached her seat, and he stuck a hand out to steal her book. Fear flashed through her body as her hands jerked to bring it to safety, but her glasses were knocked off. She exclaimed in surprise at her blurry sight, accidentally letting go of her novel. 

Damon fell backwards, landing on the seats in the empty middle row. “Wow...” he said, opening to the last page and reading from a paragraph while laying down as if he was in a bed. “...and that was how she met her true end. The once sought-after princess had reached a natural conclusion from a lifetime’s worth of overindulgence. The ugliness of her soul—” 

“Give it back, you jerk! Don’t read the ending!!!!” Quella cried, showing more emotion than ever before. She jumped towards him after bending down to rescue her glasses, but Damon rolled backwards, somehow flipping over the seats and landing in the row behind. His green and blue eyes harbored a cruel smile. Why was he playing keep-a-way? That was a childish game people played with their crushes, right? If the rumors were true, then Damon had a syrupy mouth that could spill promises sweeter than molasses. Did he not have any courage? 

How can I talk about someone else’s lack of courage when I don’t have any of it? I'm content with riding out the days until my natural death. I don’t have any desire to stick out more than I already do. If I could meld with the shadows, I would probably do that if I could continue my hobbies… 

Damon said he’d give it back if Quella sat down, so she did that after puffing air out of her nose as if she was an angry bull. She placed her glasses back on her face after returning to her seat and expectantly held out a hand. He walked over and gave it to her, but he kept a tight grip, and it turned into a small game of tug-of-war. Exhaustion showed on her face, and during the struggle for the book, it bounced up and landed right in my lap. Two sets of eyes focused on me, and I stopped moving like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car.  

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but Quella stood up, walked towards my seat, snatched the book out of my lap, and stared while lightly biting her lip.  

“Hey! You’re a bastard for not giving her the book back! Come here!” Against my will, Damon dragged me out of my seat. During the struggle, Quella’s glasses were knocked from her face a second time. I didn’t know who was responsible, but it wasn’t worth thinking about. “Oh, now you’re asking for it. You don’t get to smack beautiful girls in the face!” Damon roared at me. He gripped my malnourished neck with one hand and lifted me a few inches off the floor. He pulled back his left arm and formed a tight fist. I struggled to breathe; sickening gurgles crept out from my nose, and Damon changed his grip to just holding me by an arm since it was more humiliating. Apathetically, my eyes searched for help. My three friends were busy pretending I didn’t exist, choosing to look at their phones rather than me.  

It isn’t right for me to get punished. I didn’t even do anything wrong... 

By all accounts, I should have been scared out of my mind because I was about to get punched. But after thinking about it, was I scared? Growing up, the beatings my parents gave me were just something I had to live with. Pain was pain, and after becoming used to it, it was just an annoyance at worst. I was adept at taking the abuse and shaking it off. It may have been a while since the last time I was struck, but I remembered what to do all the same.  

Yeah, it was fine. Take the hit, then ignore it. Take and ignore. Take and ignore... 

Take and ignore... Pain is just temporary… 

“EH?! There’s a fight?!” exclaimed a girl named Elly, a flashy idol with blue hair. She was one of the two foreign exchange students. Her father was Russian, and she was the second tallest in the class. Skimpy clothing was the name of the game for her since, according to her, idols were always getting stared at. 

“Ami, look!” Elly said, talking to her cousin, who was half Russian and half Mexican, as indicated by her skin, which was a shade lighter than golden brown.

Ami’s sleeveless arms reached up and pushed down Elly’s blue hair, allowing a pair of brown eyes to peek at the action. Her infectious smile was almost a permanent characteristic of her happy attitude. That was something she and her cousin shared, and they were likable. They even talked to someone like me enough times to count on two hands.  

My eyes probably involuntarily glanced over to them for help, but the message didn’t get across. I just wanted to get this over with. My body relaxed and waited for a punch that I knew was coming. 

“Stop this at once!!!!” From nowhere, a stressed voice rang out, causing all eyes to turn to Ms. Mary. As an instructor of class 2-F, which had no rivals, Ms. Mary didn’t have much to do. Anything she could have taught the rest of the class was stuff they, barring me, had already known about. 

She rushed out of her seat, and the clacking of her heels brought all the attention to herself, which subsequently brought it to me again when everyone saw what she was walking towards. Her beige blouse and black pencil skirt were all folded and creased, probably from the haste she ejected herself from her chair. Will considered her to be pretty, though. With her smart-looking glasses and fluffy black hair, he exclaimed that a ‘hottie’ like her had no end to her list of suitors. 

Will had once mentioned he had heard a rumor about Ms. Mary. Apparently, she was a lesbian, but baseless rumors were dime a dozen at Mekka Academy. As prominent and high-ranking it was in terms of academic geniuses and physical prodigies, it was still a school at heart. In the deepest, darkest corners of the left, right, and main halls, the tortured cries of abused, bullied, and tormented students could be heard at all hours of the day. 

“Hey, don’t you move another fucking step.” Damon had a sharp edge in his voice, stopping our teacher in her tracks. Her knees were shaky and weak like she wanted to march forward, but she just couldn’t do it. Her glasses nearly danced off her face from her trembling. “Remember your place, instructor. Don’t do anything to jeopardize an easy job that comes with a fat paycheck. Sit there and watch. Do nothing else.” Then he flashed a smile, but it was like a wolf’s snarl and punched me in the stomach.  

Pain flared up, spreading from my stomach to my arm and neck. I crumbled to the floor, hitting the back of my head against an armrest as I struggled to breathe.  

The air was knocked out of me.  

Ms. Mary stayed back, afraid to take the extra step since it would mean disobeying a direct order from the aristocrats. She just stood there...watching as one of her students was assailed by a flurry of kicks to the gut.  

But whereas our teacher was frozen in fear, someone else stomped down the aisle. “Pick him up!” Mia commanded. I felt a large hand wrap around my shirt. A second later, I was on my feet. As much as it all hurt, I kept an empty expression. I didn’t like being punished for something I didn’t do, but striking back against my abuser? Shouting at the teacher, who didn’t do a single thing to protect her students? 

That kind of thought just didn’t exist in my mind. It was just so foreign that I couldn’t fathom the possibility of doing anything other than taking it.  

I’ve been taking the abuse all my life… Why should it change now? This must be my fate. 

“Shuuta! You’re a shitty brother! I told you that you were forbidden from doing anything that would embarrass me!” 

Damon roared with laughter upon learning Mia’s secret, which pissed her off. In a flash, she raised a fist and clocked me across the cheek. Years of archery practice and devotion to her fitness had strengthened her core and arms, and I wasn’t surprised when a few teeth vacated my mouth with a splash of blood. The dull ache multiplied, making it hard to deduce just how many Mias were scowling at me.  

But that was fine. The pain didn’t compare to what my ‘mother’ and ‘father’ did to me. 

Hell hath no fury like scorned parents... 

Damon laughed some more and taunted me, saying that I was able to ignore his line of sight for two years, but now he was locked on to me. Then said the best shine the brightest when compared to filthy losers. He asked Tokko if he could have some ‘fun’ with me, but the aristocrat walked down the aisle. 

“No,” Tokko said, joining the growing distraction. “Like Quella said, it’s a long flight, and I might want to catch some sleep. I can’t do that if you have your little ‘fun’. If I recall, he’s the only student in our school with absolutely nothing to his name. No trophies, no awards, not even an honorable mention. Every garden needs a wilted weed to showcase how beautiful the roses are, am I right?” Tokko grinned and shook his head. 

He held out a hand. Mia’s mood instantly brightened, and she skipped over and placed her head on his shoulder. It was like watching a puppy happily walking towards her master. He gave a warning to Ms. Mary that cut through her very soul, then returned to his seat with Mia. Damon saw fit to give me a light push, which knocked me to the ground where I bashed my head against an armrest.  

“Got it. Quella, I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry. Can you ever find it in your gorgeous, beautiful, busty heart to forgive me for my insolence? I’ll even let you go out on a date with me.” Damon kneeled and touched his forehead to the carpet. Even though my vision was cloudy, I knew it was just theatrics.  

When he realized Quella was ignoring him, Damon savagely stood up with reckless abandon. He punched the empty middle seats while returning to his own, where he crashed into it with an exasperated sigh. From behind, I heard Ms. Mary cautiously creep forward. Instead of looking to Will, Greggie, or Keeth, my eyes radiated over to the pair of foreign exchange students because they were talking about something. 

“Wow, Shuuta, you got slapped like crazy!” Ami said. The girl had no sense of tact, but I felt like it wasn’t worth getting mad at her, especially since Elly chastised her cousin over her amateurish grasp on our language. I guess she had explained what the correct thing was to say because she said something completely different. “Wow, Shuuta, I’m sorry you got punched like crazy.” 

She isn’t from here, so I can’t fault her for not saying the right thing the first time… Is there anything about me that’s right? 

“Wah!” exclaimed Elly, a wave of ruby red embarrassment covered her face. She covered Ami’s mouth and apologized for her cousin. 

Quella put her glasses on for the second time and reached out a hand. Right as I was about to take it, the world went bright white. Almost all creation seemed to disappear into an unfathomable void of infinite nothingness.