The schoolyard buzzed with noise,shouts, laughter, arguments, the metallic drone of the bell clanging overhead. Rows of children spilled across cracked pavement, some sprinting to class, others loitering in clusters, trading jokes or insults.
Starling adjusted his backpack and tightened the straps across his shoulders. The fabric pressed against the folded shape of his wings, the weight awkward but familiar.
The wings weren't large enough yet to carry him far still feathered, small, clumsy things. When he opened them, they trembled like kites in the wind. But to him, they were freedom itself. To everyone else… a reminder.
"Move, feather-boy," a passing boy sneered, bumping his shoulder deliberately.
Starling stumbled but bit his tongue. He had learned early that reacting only made it worse.
He walked through the gate, past the iron sign that read:
UNITY PUBLIC ACADEMY
A Joint Institution for Human and Humarite Youth.
The building was divided in halves. On the right, the Human classrooms with rows of bright glass windows, freshly painted walls, new equipment. On the left, the Humarite wing,older bricks, hand-me-down desks, walls scarred with graffiti someone had only half-heartedly scrubbed away.
The administration called it "necessary separation for tailored education." Everyone else knew it for what it was: a line drawn in stone.
Inside, Starling sat among his own. The Humarite class was a storm of differences:
A girl with silver skin that shimmered like liquid metal.
A boy whose eyes glowed faintly blue, veins humming with inner light.
Another whose elongated ears twitched at the faintest sound.
And Starling, with his restless wings tucked behind him, feathers twitching whenever his emotions rose.
Their teacher, Mr. Helvi, was a patient man, though his voice often carried exhaustion. "Alright, class, today we continue studying the Null bloodline sequences. Remember, each bloodline carries not only potential but also responsibility…"
Starling doodled in the margins of his book, sketching birds soaring over skyscrapers.
The real test came during joint classes.
The divider doors slid open, and Human students filtered in, their eyes flicking over the room with varying degrees of curiosity, disdain, and boredom.
Starling shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper-aware of his wings. Some kids stared openly, whispering.
"Looks like a pigeon," one boy muttered.
Starling's feathers ruffled before he forced them flat. He stared at his notebook. Don't react. Don't give them what they want.
The lesson was arithmetic. Numbers filled the board, the teacher,this time a Human,walking briskly through the material.
Starling raised his hand to answer a question.
The teacher hesitated. Just a fraction of a second, but Starling saw it. Felt it. Then she nodded stiffly. "Yes, Starling?"
He gave the correct answer. The room was silent. Then a Human girl in the back whispered just loud enough: "Birdbrain got lucky."
Laughter rippled.
The teacher didn't correct them. She moved on.
Starling's chest tightened. His wings twitched against his chair, feathers brushing wood, rustling louder than he wanted them to.
---
At lunch, the divide continued. Two cafeterias. Two lines. Two sets of tables.
Starling carried his tray, eyes searching for somewhere to sit. That was when he saw him...a lanky boy with wild hair and a grin too wide for his face, waving him over.
"Hey! Over here!"
Starling blinked. He didn't know him well yet, but he'd seen him in the Humarite classes before. The boy's skin had faint metallic shine across it.
"Name's Riven," the boy said around a mouthful of food. "You're the bird, right?"
Starling bristled, ready to leave, but Riven quickly held up his hands. "No, no don't get mad! I mean it in a good way. Wings are cool. You can actually fly? Or just… jump really far?"
Starling hesitated, then muttered, "Not yet. But one day."
Riven grinned. "See? That's badass. Me, I just… have metallic like skin. Like a sheet of metal. Not very useful haha."
Starling snorted despite himself. "A tin can and a bird. Sounds like the start of a bad joke."
"Exactly! So let's make it a good one."
And just like that, the weight lifted. For the first time in weeks, Starling smiled without forcing it.
But peace never lasted long.
Later that afternoon, on the playground, a Human boy strutted over, flanked by his friends. His name was Corin,tall for his age, smug in that way kids could be when they knew no one would punish them.
"Well, well," Corin drawled. "Looks like the freaks are making friends now."
Riven stood quickly, glow pulsing faintly along his cracks. "Back off, Corin."
Corin sneered. "Or what? You'll blind me with your reflective surface?" His eyes flicked to Starling. "And you....you gonna flap those little feathers at me? Fly away like the dirty bird you are?"
Something snapped inside Starling. His wings unfurled instinctively, feathers shivering, spreading wider than he meant them to. Gasps rose around the yard. Some children backed away. Others laughed, pointing.
"See?" Corin jeered. "Can't even control himself. Dangerous."
The words echoed in Starling's head,dangerous, freak, dirty bird. He wanted to scream, to lunge, to prove them wrong.
But Riven's hand landed on his shoulder, firm. "Don't. That's what he wants."
Starling's breath came hard, wings trembling. Slowly, painfully, he folded them back in.
Corin smirked and walked off, satisfied.
Starling stared at the ground, shame burning hotter than anger.
That night, Riven walked with him partway home.
"They'll never stop, you know," Riven said casually. "Not the Humans, not the names. We're Humarites. That's all they'll ever see."
Starling glanced at him, uneasy. "Then what's the point?"
Riven grinned again, though this time it was sharper, a little sad. "The point is to be better. To prove them wrong. Or… prove them right on our own terms."
Starling didn't know what to say. But when Riven clapped him on the back, laughing, the knot in his chest loosened.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone.