The second day of school was even better than the first.
Alex woke up feeling oddly energetic—like he had eaten too much sugar, even though breakfast had been the same as always. He tried to sit still at the table, but his feet wouldn't stop swinging under the chair, and his fingers tapped against his Schultüte from yesterday, which now sat empty beside him.
His little sister was even worse. She practically bounced in her seat, kicking her legs and talking at double speed about everything and nothing.
"You're hyper today," his father commented, sipping his coffee.
Alex opened his mouth to argue—but so was he.
Everything felt just a little bit… brighter, sharper, sweeter.
His toast tasted as if someone had added sugar to the butter. The milk was somehow creamier, even though it was the same brand they always bought. Even the air smelled fresh, like the morning after a storm, except there hadn't been one.
Strange.
But he didn't dwell on it too long. Today was a school day, and school was fun.
The first lesson of the day was English, and Alex was excited.
He already knew the alphabet and a few words (his dad had shown him some at home), but now he was learning them properly. The teacher wrote "apple" on the board in neat, careful letters, then drew a wobbly-looking fruit beside it.
"Ahhh-pple," the teacher pronounced. "Everyone, repeat after me!"
"Apple!" the class chimed in, voices overlapping, some too loud, some too quiet.
Alex wanted to sit still. He really did. But his legs were buzzing like a wind-up toy, and he kept shifting in his seat. He wasn't the only one, either—other kids fidgeted, swung their feet, drummed fingers on the desk.
At some point, a boy in the back accidentally kicked his chair over, and everyone burst into giggles. Even the teacher sighed with a small, amused smile.
"Alright, alright, let's all take a deep breath. I know it's the second day, but try to focus, okay?"
Alex nodded eagerly, even though his hands kept moving.
Soccer, Eyeballed Goals & The Kid with Glasses
At recess, Alex made friends.
It happened naturally—like how leaves just drift into piles in autumn. A few boys had a soft soccer ball, and they needed more players, so they waved him over without a second thought.
"Let's make goals," one of the older kids said.
There were no cones, no chalk lines, no measuring tape. Just two areas of open space, marked by nothing but the judgment of children.
"This much space?" one kid suggested, spreading his arms.
"Nah, a little more."
"Okay, how about now?"
The group turned to one boy—the one with glasses.
Glasses meant smart, obviously. If he had glasses, he had to see things better.
The kid pushed his frames up his nose and squinted at the distance like some kind of professional field measurer. Then he nodded. "Yeah, that looks even."
And that was that. The goal lines were set, and the game began.
The ball wasn't a real soccer ball—it was one of those soft, slightly squishy ones that made a "foomp" sound when kicked too hard. But nobody cared.
Everyone was running, laughing, chasing the ball like a swarm of excited puppies.
Alex kicked too hard once, sending the ball bouncing wildly across the yard. One of the other boys shouted, "HIS SHOT WAS LIKE A METEOR!" and suddenly, Alex had a reputation as a powerful kicker.
By the time recess was over, he was sweaty, breathless, and grinning.
"You're on our team tomorrow," one of the boys told him.
Alex nodded eagerly, already looking forward to it.
At some point during the day, Alex noticed the sun.
It wasn't yellow.
It was white.
Not just the bright-white of midday when the sun is high, but completely, perfectly white—a solid, colorless orb against the sky. It should've been blinding, but somehow, it wasn't.
Alex blinked up at it, frowning slightly.
Had it always looked like that?
Before he could think too hard about it, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day.
Another day of learning was over. And tomorrow would come again.
Alex should've been exhausted after all the running and excitement.
But as he walked home, he still felt just a little too awake.