The sun was setting behind the city, casting
long shadows over the cobbled streets. A
younger Jericho stood against the
weathered stone wall of the bakery, staring
out at the bustle of the market square. He
wasn't really interested in the fresh loaves of
bread or the sacks of vegetables on display,
but the sight of people moving so easily
among each other—their conversations
owing effortlessly, their laughter loud and
free—made him feel like an outsider in his
own skin.
It wasn't that Jericho didn't have friends. He
had his brother Nathan, and his childhood
companions from the neighborhood. But
there was always a disconnect, something
intangible that kept him from truly feeling
at home. He'd never quite understood the
way others seemed to move through the
world with such ease. His quiet nature, his
introspective tendencies, always left him
feeling like an observer rather than a
participant.
As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, a
sudden burst of noise broke through the
hum of the market. He turned to see a young
girl charging through the square, her bright
red hair flying behind her like a banner. She
was laughing—loudly—and waving her arms
around, completely oblivious to the stares of
the neighbors. Jericho raised an eyebrow as
she barreled through a group of children
playing tag, laughing even harder when one
of them tumbled to the ground.
"That was my turn!" she shouted, hands on
her hips as she glared at the kids, who
scrambled away in wide-eyed fear.
Jericho shook his head, suppressing a sigh.
He'd heard of her. Amelia. Mel, they called
her. The loud, obnoxious new kid who had a
reputation for making a spectacle of herself.
The other kids avoided her like the plague,
but Mel didn't seem to mind. She was always
out there, doing something—singing,
shouting, running, or, more often than not,
being completely unapologetic about her
presence.
Mel stopped in front of Jericho, catching her
breath. Her eyes, bright and determined,
locked onto his.
"You're Jericho, right?" she asked, hands on
her hips, her voice still carrying that brash,
condent tone that made even the
grown-ups pause in annoyance.
Jericho glanced at her, unsure what to say.
He didn't know her well enough to be kind,
but he didn't want to be rude either. His
instinct was to avoid her, to not get tangled
up in her energy and the trouble that
seemed to follow her like a shadow.
"Yeah," he muttered, looking down at his
boots. "That's me."
"Good! I'm Mel," she said, grinning widely.
"I've been trying to and someone to—"
"I'm not really looking for company,"
Jericho interrupted, though the words came
out harsher than he intended. He knew the
reputation Mel had among the other kids.
Loud. Too loud. Overbearing. Most people
couldn't stand her for long.
Mel didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She
just tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as
if she was sizing him up. "Why? You don't
want to be friends with someone fun?" she
asked, clearly not understanding Jericho's
reluctance.
"I just don't think we'd get along," he said,
shifting uneasily under her unwavering
gaze. He wasn't good at socializing, never
had been. The thought of spending time
with someone as exuberant as her made him
nervous. How could he possibly keep up
with someone who seemed to live in a world
where nothing was too loud or too big?
"Pfft, whatever," she said with a dismissive
wave of her hand, her voice still too loud for
comfort. "I bet you don't even know what
it's like to have a good time. But I'm on a
mission, you know? And you seem like the
kind of person who would make a good
friend. Not that I care about your opinion or
anything," she added quickly, realizing how
much she sounded like she was begging.
"But... I just want someone to hang out
with."
Jericho frowned, his unease deepening. He
knew exactly what she was doing: trying to
make herself sound tough, like she didn't
need anyone else's approval. But it was
obvious, even to him, that Mel wasn't as
certain as she pretended to be.
"You should try talking to someone else,"
Jericho said, shaking his head. "I don't think
I'm your best bet."
Mel blinked, surprised by his refusal, but
then she threw back her head and
laughed—loudly. "Ha! Whatever. I'll nd
someone else. But you don't know what
you're missing out on, Jericho." With that,
she turned on her heel and dashed off, her
red hair bouncing behind her like a comet
streaking through the sky.
Jericho watched her go, feeling an
unfamiliar twist of something he didn't
quite understand. He felt... guilty? But also a
little relieved. He wasn't ready to be dragged
into the chaos she seemed to stir up
everywhere she went. It was easier to stay in
his quiet world, away from her boldness,
away from the unknown.
That night, after a quiet dinner, Jericho lay
awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling,
wondering what she was up to. He couldn't
help but feel like he had missed something
important. Maybe it wasn't about tting into
the world the way he thought he should, but
about being willing to step into something
different... to let the chaos in.
But, of course, that was easier said than
done.
He sighed and pulled the blanket up higher,
trying to shut out the thought of a loud,
red-haired girl on a mission to nd a friend,
whether he wanted to be that person or not.