While the principal was doing everything, he could to get the boy to talk, I took a quick look at him. It was enough to realize that I didn't know him and didn't even know that he studied here at our school.
And I know almost all the students here, thanks to Mira and her sister. For me not to recognize someone, he either had a very discreet presence, or he practically didn't have one.
However, it wasn't his appearance that caught my attention - which, by the way, was quite ordinary: black hair, short and messy, with dark brown eyes that didn't bring anything very special at first glance. But what really worried me, and probably caused Mira's sister distress, was the state he was in.
His clothes were almost all in rags, as if they had been torn in a fight or during a desperate escape. In addition, red stains - unmistakable and disturbing - covered several spots on the fabric, making it all too clear what they were.
The worst thing, however, was not the clothes or the stains, but the marks on his body. There were burns scattered over almost the entire visible length of her skin, some still reddened, as if they were fresh, while others looked older, healing unevenly.
Just looking at it, something inside me contracted, a shiver running up my spine. How can someone get into such a state? What could have happened to him to bring him to this?
Before anyone had a chance to say anything, the same boy, who until that moment had cared little about our presence, answered the principal without a hint of emotion. His indifference, which in a way didn't bother us, seemed to have touched Mira. After all, although she was bothered by the idolatry of the others, who treated her as if she were a goddess, something about the way he ignored her ended up arousing a certain interest.
"If that's all, with your permission, I'll leave."
Without saying another word, he turned and left the room without even looking at us. And we were practically next to the door. I'm not going to lie, that aroused a curiosity in me, a desire to know who that boy was.
Before I could ask anything, Mira, as if reading my thoughts, asked exactly the same question I was about to ask.
"Who is he?"
Mira asked, in a softer voice than usual, but still flashing that sweet smile that many didn't realize was fake.
As soon as Mira asked that question, Principal Arden let out a sigh, about to answer her. However, her sister interrupted him, answering instead. I could tell that the poor old man didn't like the situation very much.
Lysa, with her calm and controlled manner, stepped forward and gave Principal Arden a quick glance before speaking.
"Sid Vāmirion"
Unable to contain herself any longer, Lysa replied and went straight to hug her sister.
I, who was a little curious to know more about that boy, decided to make a comment in the hope that Mira's sister, or perhaps even the director, would tell me more details.
"Is it just me, or is he not very... how can I put it without sounding mean? Sociable?"
I asked sarcastically, as if it were just a joke, while trying, almost imperceptibly, to disguise the interest I felt.
Lysa gave a brief smile, but her eyes remained serious, as if she was pondering how to answer my question. Mira, still in her arms, watched carefully, and the silence in the room seemed to stretch on, as if everyone knew that the answer that would come would not be simple.
As I had imagined, the answer came, but not from Mira's sister. It came from the principal, who, after letting out a deep sigh, looked at me.
"It's not just you..."
After the announcement, the director let out a low, tired sigh, then ran his hand through his beard in an almost reflexive way.
"He's really not much of a mixer, but he's a good kid. He's going through a difficult time, though..."
The director added, his soft voice laden with a sincerity that surprised me.
And once again, as if reading my thoughts, Mira asked exactly the same question I was about to ask.
"A difficult time?"
Mira asked in a calm tone, still trying to disguise her interest in the subject.
I couldn't help but find this very strange. After all, Mira had never shown any interest in anything, let alone anyone. Seeing that curiosity, however discreet, in relation to a boy was something totally out of the ordinary for her, something I hadn't expected at all.
Anyone who saw that conversation would certainly find it very funny, because every time one started, the other would jump in, as if it were a rotation.
And once again, on this occasion, it was no different. The director finished what he was saying, but without explaining exactly what difficult phase the boy was going through. It was then that Mira's sister, Lysa, added to what he hadn't said.
"As well as this difficult phase he's going through, it's becoming more and more obvious that he's being bullied, which only makes things worse. As if that weren't enough, he's also a Gift Zero."
Okay, I definitely wasn't expecting that... What was the chance of someone being born as a Gift Zero? One in a million. In the world we lived in, people who were born with special gifts were not only admired, but also revered. These people were called 'Gifts', and this meant something far beyond simple ability. It was a status, almost like a mark of nobility, that put them on a pedestal, set apart from others.
The Gifts were considered the elite of society, the holders of unique powers that made them special, almost immortal in the eyes of the majority.
At our school, all the students had at least some kind of ability or power. It was the norm. Those without any gifts, the so-called Gift Zeroes, were treated very differently: often ignored and, in many cases, ridiculed.