Alam limped toward the gymnasium, his club foot dragging softly across the pavement. The sky outside had already slipped into deep blue, and the last traces of sunset glowed faintly behind the buildings.
He pushed open the gym doors and stepped into a blast of cold air and the sharp smell of sweat and rubber. Every student was already in uniform.
"You're late!" his gym coach barked.
He was a bald, clean‑shaven man with brown skin, barely five foot four but built like a compact brick wall. His shoulders were broad, his neck thick, and his whistle bounced against a chest that looked carved out of old stadium bleachers. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his scalp under the fluorescent lights, and his sharp, dark eyes scanned the room with the intensity of a drill sergeant who'd seen too many freshmen disappoint him.
"S‑sorry—"
"Coach Barker!" the man corrected, chest puffed with authority.
"Sorry, Coach Barker," Alam repeated.
"Take it easy on him, coach. It's his first day," Ewan called out.
"Stow it, Sinclair!" Barker snapped.
He jabbed a finger toward Alam. "Now go get changed and start running laps with the rest of these bozos."
The class groaned in unison.
"Do we have to run laps today?" one student complained.
"Yeah, I wanted to play dodgeball," another added.
"D-dodgeball?" Alam muttered, looking down at his foot.
"Yeah, well, apparently some smart a**es pissed the Dean off," Barker said. "So everyone's runnin' laps."
"F‑f‑f‑f‑*ck!" one student stammered, fists clenched.
"That's it. Let it aaaaall out, Simons," Barker said soothingly, like he was encouraging a toddler.
"The coach doesn't care if we use bad words here?" Alam whispered.
"Nah," another student replied. "He curses like a sailor."
"Alright, get your f**king a**es up and start running!" Barker roared.
Alam couldn't help but chuckle softly as he headed toward the locker room.
"This class is absurd," he muttered, the smell of sweat and rubber already clinging to his clothes. The gym's humid air stuck to his skin, warm and heavy, and the faint squeak of sneakers echoed off the high rafters.
Approaching the boys' locker room, he spotted the maid girl who helped him when he was lost on his first day of classes. "It's her," he whispered. She was heading into the boys' locker room and hadn't noticed him. Her shoes clicked lightly against the polished floor before the heavy door swallowed her whole with a metallic thud.
"I can finally get her name and thank her properly now that there's no rush," Alam said, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he stepped forward. The cool metal handle of the locker room door brushed his fingertips—
As Alam was about to enter the locker room, he heard the coach shout.
"Hey, Dumb and Dumber! The dean's been looking for you!" the coach yelled toward the gym entrance, his voice booming so loudly it vibrated in Alam's chest.
Alam looked back at the gym's entrance to spot the Kobayashi twins. They ran off, dashing from the gym, their footsteps slapping against the hardwood like frantic drumbeats.
"The No-Win Twins are at it again," one student said sarcastically as he jogged past Alam, breath puffing in short bursts, sweat flicking off his brow.
"No-win Twins?" Alam asked, confused, the air around him filled with the rhythmic thud of running feet.
"You know, cause of their family name?" another student running by said, his voice strained with exertion.
"Their family name?" Alam asked.
"Kobayashi," another student said, winded, his words breaking between gasps.
"Ooooh," Alam said before chuckling lightly. "That's kind of funny," he added, the joke warming him for a brief moment despite the gym's stale chill.
"Fairweather!" the coach barked.
"Yes, Coach Barker?!" Cindy, whom Alam hadn't spotted till now, shouted, halting her run. She was running alongside Rita and several other girls, their sneakers skidding slightly as they stopped, the scent of deodorant and exertion drifting past him.
"You're in charge! Keep these losers in line till I get back! Give me the names of anyone who doesn't listen to you while I'm gone," the coach said, glancing around the room before storming off. His whistle bounced against his chest with each heavy step.
"Yes, Coach!" Cindy said.
The coach muttered angrily as he stormed toward the door, "I swear when I catch up to those two rice gobblers, I'm gonna shove chopsticks so far up their a**es—"
"Coach! That's extremely inappropriate!" one of the older students said, his voice cracking slightly.
"Quiet, you little bch, or I'll rip your leg off and shove it so far up your a** everyone'll think it's a lightning rod," the coach said, tilting his head back, looking up at a 6'4 student. The tall boy's footsteps faltered for a moment before he lowered his head and kept jogging.
"You tall, Slenderman looking a** Motherf**ker," the coach continued, insulting the student. "Tryin' to tone police me," he finished before heading out the door, which slammed behind him with a hollow boom.
Alam sat there, eyes wide, and jaw agape. His pulse thudded in his ears, the gym suddenly feeling too bright, too loud.
"What even was that? How does someone like him teach here?" Alam muttered.
"You should go change, Alam! I don't want to have to report you," Cindy shouted from across the gymnasium, her voice carrying over the echo of squeaking sneakers.
"Right," Alam whispered, turning back to the locker room. The metal door felt colder now, almost slick under his palm.
When he reached for the door, he was halted by the sound of a young girl sobbing. He also heard the muffled yells of several boys — laughter, shouting.
"Is that?" Alam questioned, bursting the door open.
He found Fitz and his friends watching an anime. The girl he heard sobbing was a character on the show crying because the boy she liked just rejected her. The screen's glow flickered across their faces. Fitz and his friends were booing at the boy for breaking her heart. They stared daggers at Alam, the air in the room suddenly feeling tighter, heavier.
"You interrupted our show, Clubie," Fitz said with a low growl.
"My name's Alam," he said, correcting him.
"Alam, more like A-lame," Ledga said.
Alam broke eye contact, looking at the ground, the scent of cheap body spray and damp socks filling his nose.
"What's wrong, A-lame? You don't like the new nickname?" Fitz said, storming toward him, each step thudding like a warning.
"I just—"
He was interrupted by Fitz's foot barreling into his chest, sending him flying through the locker room door. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and the world spun as he hit the gym floor. Everyone running laps stopped and stared at him as he landed after flying several feet back, the sound echoing like a dropped sandbag.
Fitz exploded through the doors, stomping toward Alam, who was dazed on the ground. The floor felt cold beneath his palms, dust sticking to his skin.
"From now on, this b**che's name is A-lame! Anyone who doesn't call him that is gonna have problems with me!" Fitz roared, his voice rattling the bleachers.
He lifted Alam by his collar, the fabric tightening around Alam's throat. "You got a problem with that, A-lame?" he asked with an intimidating tone.
"W-why are you doing this?" Alam asked, breath trembling.
"Well, you interrupted Happy Hinata! It's my favorite Anime, A-lame," he said before punching him in the stomach, making him gasp for air. Pain shot through Alam's ribs like a hot spike. "I also missed you at lunch today," he said, punching him again. "You know what that means, A-lame?" he asked, shaking Alam by the collar.
"P-please, I'll do anything…" Alam muttered, voice barely a whisper.
"You're damn right you'll—"
"Put him down, Fitz!" Cindy shouted like a stern mother.
Fitz slowly turned his head and glared at Cindy.
"Yeah, leave him alone!" Rita shouted, backing Cindy up.
Fitz glanced over at her and said, "Stay outta this, you," before turning his attention back to Cindy.
Rita lowered her head and ducked behind Cindy.
"I said Put-Him-Down!" Cindy said, emphasizing each word.
"Fitz and Cinderella at each other's throats again," one student said.
Fitz growled, breathing intensely, his breath hot against Alam's face.
"Do you want me to tell Coach Barker when he gets back?" she asked him.
He stared at her for a moment, tilting his head before agreeing, "Fine," he said, throwing Alam on the ground.
"Ahh!" Alam shouted. He went rolling like an awkward barrel across the ground, the rough floor scraping his elbows and knees.
"Fitz!" Cindy shouted.
"What?! I did what you asked," Fitz said.
When Alam finally stopped, he was covered in scrapes and bruises. His skin stung everywhere the floor had kissed it.
"Sky's End," Cindy said in disbelief. "How could you do that?" Cindy asked Fitz, staring at Alam.
"You're lucky I put him down at all," Fitz said casually.
Alam winced. Cindy rushed over to check on him. "You should be alright," she said, looking over Alam's injuries. "But let me grab some disinfectant from the coach's office to be on the safe side," she added, dashing to the back of the gymnasium.
"Your protector's not here now, A-lame. What are you gonna do now?" Fitz said.
Alam looked up at Fitz. "People like you go nowhere in life," Alam said to Fitz. "You're the big bad wolf on campus. But as soon as school's over, the world swallows you whole, and you disappear into mediocrity."
Fitz chuckled softly. "Look who's finally grown a backbone," he said mockingly to Alam. "You all gassed up cause that b**ch stood up for you?" he asked.
"That's right, I bet no one's ever stood up for you," Alam said.
Fitz chuckled loudly. "I've got news for you, A-lame, you're just some sad cripple she feels bad for."
"You're wrong," Alam said defiantly.
"Every year, she picks a pet project to pour her time and energy into. This year, that's you!" Fitz continued.
"Even if that's true, pity's better than revulsion. Look around you," Alam said as Fitz looked around the room. "Everyone here despises you. If you died tomorrow, would they be sad, or would they cheer?" Alam asked. "Besides the two a** kissers always following you around, no one likes you."
Fitz glanced behind him at Echo and Ledga. "Yeah, well, at least they fear me," Fitz growled, lowering his eyes. "Let's see how far pity gets you when I'm stomping you through the ground," Fitz said, storming toward Alam.
The ground beneath them started shaking. Fitz stopped, nearly toppling over. Everyone dropped to the ground and lay flat, covering their heads with their hands. Dust drifted from the rafters, and the bleachers rattled like loose teeth.
"Another earthquake?" one student said.
"They've been so frequent lately," another student added.
"Aren't we supposed to evacuate?" one student asked.
"I don't know," another panicked.
Fitz crawled toward Alam. "Don't think. This. Is gonna. Stop me. From kicking your—"
The lights cut out, and the rumbling stopped.
The gym fell into a suffocating darkness, the air suddenly still.
"What's happening?" one student asked.
Alam could feel the room getting cold. The temperature dropped so fast it felt like invisible fingers brushing down his spine. He could hear the students shivering around him, teeth chattering in the dark.
"Why'd it get so cold?" one student asked.
"It's her," Alam muttered, feeling the warmth from his breath fog in front of him.
"Who?!" another student shouted.
"You think this scare me—" Fitz was cut off.
The lights cut back on. Everyone looked around. One student gasped, pointing above the gym entrance.
There was Fitz—unconscious—held aloft by a massive fist of ice that had erupted from the gym floor and slammed him into the wall above the doors. Jagged knuckles pressed into his torso, and frost spidered outward from the impact point, glittering under the fluorescent lights. A thin rime coated his lashes and hair, breath frozen mid‑exhale against his lips, as if the cold had claimed him in an instant.
"Fitz…?" Alam whispered, confused.
Cindy emerged from the coach's office unaware. "What's going on?" she asked before looking up at Fitz. "Ah!" she screamed in panic.