The bell rang, signaling the start of another long day.
Dalton walked into the classroom and headed straight for his usual spot—front row, middle, right in front of the teacher's desk. The desk itself loomed over his seat, a fortress of cluttered papers, books, and the ever-present projector. It wasn't the best seat in the room, but it had one advantage: Mr. Nero, their science teacher, rarely noticed him there. The teacher was always too busy fiddling with the projector to pay attention to the student sitting directly in front of it.
It was the perfect spot for someone who didn't want to be seen.
Dalton liked it that way. He wasn't the type to raise his hand or offer answers in class, and the teacher's towering desk provided just enough cover to keep him out of sight. Most of the other kids in the room paid him no mind, anyway. They were too busy talking or passing notes to notice the quiet kid in the red hoodie, who always seemed to shrink into his seat.
The hoodie was one of the few things Dalton felt connected to.
He had picked it out at the thrift store before the school year began, a rare moment where he actually got to choose something for himself. His dad only took him shopping when it was absolutely necessary—usually right before school started or when his clothes were too torn to keep wearing. It was never a fun trip. His dad would rush through the store, grabbing anything that seemed decent enough, without giving Dalton much of a say in the matter.
But that day, the red hoodie had caught his eye. Bright red—his favorite color—and standing out among the dull, worn clothing that usually filled the racks. The black and white checkered pattern on one sleeve made it different, and the logo in the center—a cutoff "R" encircled in a ring—gave it a cool, stylized look. He had grabbed it without hesitation, hoping his dad wouldn't brush it off as unnecessary.
"You really want that one?" his dad had asked, glancing at the hoodie with mild disinterest.
Dalton had nodded. It was rare that he cared so much about a piece of clothing, but this felt like his. Something he had picked out, not just something handed to him out of necessity.
The bleach mark on the back shoulder came later.
His mom had accidentally spilled bleach during one of her frantic laundry sessions, leaving a faint stain that never quite came out. Dalton had been upset at first, but over time, he grew used to it. The hoodie was still his, still the only thing in his wardrobe that made him feel like he had some control over his appearance. He wore it almost every day, even if it was fraying at the edges and the logo had faded a bit from too many washes.
He pulled the hood up slightly as he settled into his seat, hoping to stay invisible.
Behind him, the classroom buzzed with noise. Kids laughed, passed notes, and whispered about weekend plans, completely ignoring the lesson Mr. Nero was trying to start. The teacher, as usual, was fiddling with the projector, trying to get it to display the lesson on ecosystems. Dalton glanced up at the board, but his mind wasn't on the subject. He felt the familiar sense of detachment settling in, the kind that came from knowing he was an outsider in his own class.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Dalton sighed with relief.
He packed up his notebook slowly, taking his time as the other students bolted for the door. The noise of chairs scraping against the floor and backpacks being slung over shoulders filled the room. Dalton slung his own bag over one shoulder, standing up just as the last of the kids rushed out of the classroom.
That's when he noticed her.
Sitting near the back, close to the exit, was a girl he hadn't paid much attention to before. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain-like under the fluorescent lights, and contrasted sharply against the black anime shirt she wore. Her hair was straight, sleek and brown, falling over her shoulders, and she was hunched over her notebook, her pencil moving steadily across the page as she sketched something with intense focus. Dalton's eyes drifted to her face, and he noticed a small freckle just near her lip, adding a distinct feature to her otherwise delicate appearance.
Her pale white skin made her stand out in the otherwise busy and noisy classroom. She seemed untouched by the chaos around her, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, the soft glow of her skin almost making her seem ethereal. Dalton couldn't help but stare for a moment longer than he should have.
His steps faltered as he passed her desk.
For a moment, he just stared. He didn't know why, but there was something about the way she was completely absorbed in her drawing that made him curious. She wasn't like the other girls in class—the ones who were always loud or trying to get attention. She seemed quiet, in her own world, and for some reason, Dalton felt drawn to her.
He quickly averted his gaze and kept walking, his heart pounding in his chest.
She's into anime? he thought, feeling a flicker of curiosity. It wasn't often that he found anyone at school who shared his interests. Most of the kids were more focused on sports or whatever trends were popular that week. He wondered what she was drawing, what shows she watched, if she used anime the way he did—as an escape from the world.
He tugged at the sleeve of his red hoodie as he made his way out of the classroom.
Even as he walked down the hallway, the image of her stuck with him—the brown-haired girl with pale white skin in the black anime shirt, quietly sketching at her desk, completely unaware of him. He had never noticed her before, but now, he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Who is she? he wondered as he disappeared into the crowd of students in the hallway.