Arthur arrived at school half-running, half-dreading. His heart was still rattled from the street scene, but that feeling of being needed... it clashed hard against the reality of what waited for him beyond those gates.
The moment he stepped into the courtyard, he saw the line of students outside the principal's office. A few were crying. Others were whispering, casting glances at Arthur like they'd already decided he was guilty of something. The bell had rung nearly fifteen minutes ago.
"Late again," mumbled someone behind him. "Goblin's probably been chasing ghosts."
Arthur tried to ignore it, pushing open the classroom door quietly.
The room fell into a hush.
There was no teacher yet, just students scattered at desks and across the floor. His desk—or what had been his—was gone. Moved. Or stolen. He walked over to the corner and sat on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.
Laughter broke out.
"Look, he's taking root!"
"Maybe he'll grow into a tree. Ugly enough to scare birds away."
Another voice, cold and loud: "I bet his own mirror jumped off the wall."
Arthur clenched his fists but didn't move.
A tall boy tossed a crumpled wrapper at him. "Hey, one-eye! Want some trash to go with your face?"
He'd heard it all before. But today... today it stung more. Maybe because someone, even if just for a moment, had looked at him without cruelty. Elsa. She didn't even see him, and yet she treated him more human than these people ever had.
He stood.
"Say one more thing. I dare you."
They laughed. Loud and mocking.
A girl near the front snorted. "He tried to ask me out once. Can you believe it? Look at him. Who would ever—"
Arthur didn't hear the rest. He was already out the door.
The hallway echoed with his footsteps. He didn't know where he was going. He just wanted out.
He ended up behind the school, near the trash bins. A cat darted past him, spooked by the sudden noise. He sat down, knees to his chest, and let himself breathe.
He thought of Elsa. Her calm voice. Her trust. That one moment when she held his hand like it meant something.
It didn't matter that she was blind. Or maybe it did. Maybe it meant she couldn't see what everyone else claimed was so wrong with him.
The bell rang for third period, but Arthur didn't move.
He had nothing. No friends. No desk. No mother. Just a father who barked orders, handed out coins, and disappeared. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the only thing he had left—a crumpled twenty. Enough for bread and eggs. His dad's last words echoed: "Don't come home if you waste that."
Arthur clenched the bill until it nearly tore.
He had no idea that by the next morning, the blind girl would show up again.
And with her, the strangest proposition he'd ever receive.
But for now, he was just a boy in the dark, waiting for something—anything—to pull him out.