Morning came like it was dragging its feet through the clouds. Light seeped over Ridgeway in thin, reluctant ribbons, washing the rooftops and telephone wires in dull gold. The town always looked half-awake, like it had been up too late and didn't want to start again.
Lucius lay on his back, watching a hairline crack in the ceiling. The plaster looked like a branching river, one he'd traced so many times he could follow it with his eyes closed. Below, metal clanged—pans, his mother's voice, Jamie's laughter. The smell of burnt toast reached him before the alarm did.
He sighed, rolled over, and stared at the red digits glowing on the cheap clock.
6:37. Too early to be alive.
Downstairs was the usual chaos: a kitchen too small for six people, the light too sharp, the air thick with coffee and eggs. His mother hovered by the stove, hair pulled tight, shoulders tighter. His dad sat at the table in dusty work boots, reading the same wrinkled newspaper that hadn't left the counter all week. Mara, twenty-one and five months pregnant, occupied the corner, oversized hoodie tugging over the curve of her stomach.
"Morning, Lucius," his mom said, eyes on the pan. "You're gonna be late again."
"I know." He grabbed the chipped mug, poured bitter coffee. It smelled like exhaustion.
Mara looked up from her phone. "You look half-dead."
He grunted. "Feels accurate."
"You still up doing homework?" she asked.
"Something like that." He didn't tell her he'd been staring at the wall for an hour after finishing two math problems.
His dad folded the newspaper with a snap. "The fence needs fixing on Saturday. Are you still in?"
Lucius nodded, mouth full of coffee. "Yeah."
"Good." That was his father's version of affection. Functional, heavy.
His mother sighed. "If the rain would stop, maybe we could dry the yard out. Everything's falling apart."
"Everything's been falling apart for years," his dad muttered.
No one answered. The refrigerator hummed. A pipe knocked somewhere in the wall.
Lucius stared into the coffee's dark swirl, thinking how it looked like a tiny storm. If he kept watching long enough, maybe he'd see an escape hatch there.
Jamie thundered in, backpack half-zipped. "Lucius! Guess what!"
Lucius managed a faint smile. "What?"
"I beat level five on Astro Blitz! No cheats!"
Lucius ruffled his hair. "No way. You're catching up to me."
Jamie puffed out his chest. "I know."
Mara smiled, soft but tired. "Kid's gonna run the world."
"Not if the world runs outta money first," their father said, and the air flattened again.
Lucius's jaw tightened. He wanted to tell him to stop saying things like that around Jamie, but what was the point? His dad's bitterness had settled into the house years ago, a permanent tenant.
He drained the coffee and grabbed his bag. "I'll walk Jamie to the corner."
Outside, the morning was wet and cool, the asphalt slick from last night's rain. Jamie bounced beside him, jacket flapping.
"Hey, Lucius?" the boy asked. "You think Mom and Dad are sad?"
Lucius hesitated. "Why?"
"I heard them talking about bills. Dad sounded mad."
"They're just tired," Lucius said, shoving his hands into his hoodie. "That's grown up stuff."
Jamie nodded like he understood, even though he didn't. When they reached the corner, Lucius knelt, zipped the boy's backpack properly. "Go on. Bus'll be here."
Jamie saluted and ran off, shoes splashing.
Lucius watched until the bus swallowed him, then turned toward the hill that led to Ridgeway High.
The school looked the same as always: brick walls chipped with graffiti, banners for homecoming drooping like they were tired too. Students trickled through the gates, half awake, half alive.
He spotted Luna first, blonde hair in a messy ponytail, denim jacket slung loose, energy drink in hand. She was waving to a car that honked twice before speeding away.
When she saw him, she lit up like a switch had been thrown. "Morning, Lucius!"
He raised a hand. "Hey."
"You look like you lost a fight with sleep."
"Sleep won."
"Did you even get any?"
"Maybe four hours."
She laughed, bright and reckless. "Ugh, same. I was editing till three. We're all just zombies pretending to function, right?"
Lucius smirked. "You might be the loudest zombie alive."
"I take that as a compliment."
She fell into step beside him, chattering about her channel, her next video, her cat's latest act of evil. Lucius listened more to the sound than the words. Luna's voice had a rhythm that made the day feel less heavy, and he hated that he noticed.
They reached the gates just as Zach barrelled past on his skateboard, shouting, "Move it, civilians!"
"Zach!" Luna yelled. "You're gonna kill someone!"
"Then they shouldn't stand in the path of greatness!" he shot back, hopping the curb and landing with a grin that could start a riot.
Lucius shook his head, fighting a smile. Every morning there's a movie for him.
"He's got detention energy," Luna said.
"He's got a detention history."
Inside, the hallways were alive lockers slamming, sneakers squealing, perfume fighting disinfectant.
Ava stood at her locker, arranging books in perfect order, brown hair clipped neatly. When Zach slid up beside her, she jumped.
"Hey, Ava," he said, leaning on the locker next to hers. "Need a hand alphabetizing?"
"They're by class period," she said, polite but distant.
"Ah, structure. I respect that."
Lucius caught the small flush that rose to her cheeks when she turned away. She wasn't used to attention, and Zach never noticed when his teasing hit nerves. Or maybe he did, and that was the point.
Harlem appeared, tall and deliberate, like gravity had a favorite. "Already bothering people?" he asked.
"Spreading joy," Zach said.
"Try not to get suspended before lunch."
"No promises."
Lucius nodded to Harlem. "Morning."
"Morning," Harlem said, calm as ever.
Lucius liked the balance of them all Zach's storm, Luna's fire, Harlem's stone-still calm, Ava's quiet tide. He felt like the shadow between them, the pause that filled space but never drew light.
English class smelled like chalk and air-freshener trying too hard. Lucius sat by the window, notebook open but empty. The teacher was mid-monologue about Lord of the Flies. Lucius's mind drifted to the clouds, wondering what it would feel like to float that high untouchable, away from the hum of bills and broken fences.
Beside him, Ava wrote in tidy lines, her lips moving with the teacher's words. She was always rehearsing for some invisible performance of perfection.
When the bell rang, she glanced at his blank page. "You didn't write anything."
"I'll copy from you later," he said.
"You always say that."
"And you always let me."
She smiled small, real. "Maybe I like helping."
He almost said something that would make her laugh, maybe even blush again but Luna appeared in the doorway, waving.
"Lucius! Cafeteria raid before the line!"
Ava blinked. "It's barely ten."
"Exactly!" Luna said, already halfway gone.
Lucius shrugged at Ava. "See you later."
"Yeah," she said softly, watching him leave.
Cafeteria noise, laughter, the clatter of trays life moving faster than he could think.
Zach sat on the table, tossing grapes into the air. Harlem read a thick book beside him, pretending not to notice. Luna swiped a grape mid-flight.
"Dude, you're gonna choke," she said.
"I live for danger."
Lucius dropped beside Harlem. "How's the peacekeeping going?"
Harlem didn't look up. "Stable for now."
Ava arrived, balancing her tray like a bomb. "Sorry, line was long."
Luna gasped dramatically. "Not the line!"
Ava laughed despite herself. "You guys are ridiculous."
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me today," Zach said, grinning.
For a few minutes, the noise blurred into warmth friends talking, food shared, sunlight slanting through grimy windows.
Lucius let himself relax, listening to them bicker. Luna's laugh sparked something in him—a flicker of wanting, bright and inconvenient. He looked away, focused on the condensation sliding down his water bottle. She'd never look at him that way. She liked motion, light. He was static.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, something off a bird hovering outside the window. Wings beating, but not moving forward. Frozen, suspended midair.
Lucius blinked, and it was gone.
"Lucius?" Ava's voice pulled him back. "You okay?"
He nodded, throat dry. "Yeah. Thought I saw something."
Harlem looked up, studying him. For a second, their eyes met question, concern, recognition? Then Harlem returned to his book.
Lucius tried to shake it off, but the image clung to him: a creature trapped in flight, fighting invisible glass.
The rest of the school day bled into one long hum of voices and fluorescent light.
Lucius drifted through it. Teachers spoke, pens scratched, bells rang the rhythm of a life that felt already too small for him.
At his locker after seventh period, Luna was leaning against the next one, half-smiling, half-annoyed as Zach teased her about something on her phone.
Lucius caught her reflection in the little dented mirror on his locker door. Sunlight hit her hair in streaks that almost looked silver. He hated that his stomach reacted before his thoughts did a small twist, like gravity had just tilted slightly toward her.
She noticed him. "Hey, space case."
Lucius blinked. "What?"
"You've been staring at the same book for like a full minute."
He looked down. Lord of the Flies again. "Yeah, I guess I forgot I was holding it."
Zach laughed. "Lucius, my man, you've ascended beyond studying. Truly enlightened."
Lucius forced a smile. "Or sleep-deprived."
Inside, he could still feel that quiet pull toward Luna. He hated that he noticed the way she bit her lip when she was trying not to laugh. He hated that it felt like wanting something he had no right to want. She was loud, radiant, and alive. He felt like a static shadow next to her.
Ava passed them, her hair pinned neatly back. She stopped.
"Lucius, you forgot your notebook in English. I picked it up."
"Oh thanks." He took it, their fingers brushing briefly.
Her eyes flicked away almost immediately. But Zach caught it Lucius saw the faint grin tug at his friend's mouth.
"Someone's always saving your academic life, man," Zach said.
"You should start a loyalty program."
Ava blushed, laughing softly. "He just forgets things."
Lucius nodded. "Story of my life."
Harlem joined them then, tall and unreadable, earbuds half-in. "You guys heading out?"
"Yeah," Zach said. "Lucius owes me a rematch at the court."
"I don't owe you anything," Lucius said.
"You owe me redemption," Zach shot back.
They left together, cutting through the empty lot behind the gym. The town stretched below houses hunched close together, roofs dulled by rain.
Zach tossed his basketball from hand to hand. "Tell me this town doesn't feel like a snow globe. Shake it once and everything breaks."
Luna rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic."
Harlem snorted. "He's not wrong."
Lucius stayed quiet, watching the wind ripple across the power lines. Something about the hum felt a little too sharp today, like the frequency had changed.
He shook it off.
Ava sat on the bench, sketching idly in the corner of her notebook. She wasn't great at drawing, but she liked it, flowers, mostly. Little spirals of vines.
Lucius glanced over her shoulder. "That's good."
She smiled, small and almost embarrassed. "Thanks."
Zach leaned in to look, pretending to be impressed. "You drew that? Wow, you even made Lucius look soulful."
"It's not you," she said quickly. Then, after a beat: "But it could be."
Luna laughed. "I think she just called you brooding, Lucius."
"Fits," Harlem said.
Lucius chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Inside, though, he felt something else the strange warmth of being seen. It was fleeting, but it stayed with him.
They played for an hour, the sun turning orange and low. The ball thudded against pavement, sneakers scuffed concrete, laughter echoed between the cracked walls of the gym.
For a little while, they weren't five kids stuck in a dying town. They were just… alive.
When the light finally faded, they sprawled out on the court, breathless.
Zach was the first to speak. "You ever think about leaving this place?"
"Every day," Lucius said quietly.
Luna rolled onto her side. "Where would you go?"
"Anywhere," Lucius said. "Somewhere with less noise in my head."
Ava watched him, the faintest sadness in her eyes. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," he said.
They all fell silent after that, staring up at the deepening sky. A few early stars blinked through the clouds sharp, fragile light in a heavy world.
Lucius thought about his family. About bills on the counter, the way his mom's hands shook when she counted cash. About his dad's silence at dinner.
He wondered if wanting more made him ungrateful or just human.
As they packed up, Luna looped her arm through his without thinking. "Walk me home?"
He hesitated. "Sure."
Zach smirked behind them, but didn't say anything. Ava lingered a few steps back, pretending to tie her shoe.
The walk was quiet. Houses blurred by, windows glowing amber. Luna talked about college applications, about maybe moving to the city, maybe studying film.
Lucius listened, half-lost in the sound of her voice.
When they reached her street, she stopped under a flickering streetlight. "You ever feel like you're meant for something, Lucius? But you don't know what?"
He looked at her, the question digging somewhere deep in his chest.
"Yeah," he said. "All the time."
Luna smiled softly. "Then maybe we both are."
She waved goodnight and jogged toward her porch. Lucius stood there a moment longer, hands in his pockets, watching her disappear inside. The light buzzed overhead, sputtering once before going dark.
He turned toward home, the air cool against his skin. For a moment, he could almost hear that same low hum again, the one from the power lines now threaded faintly through the night, like something alive beneath the surface of the world.
He shook his head and kept walking.
Behind him, the streetlight flickered back on.