The First Walk

The cold morning air cleared my head. The flow of other students carried me towards the school, without making it clear whether the road felt familiar or the crowd merely supplied the direction. Most of them talked, some laughed. Others glanced at me and looked away before anything could come of it.

Before the next corner, a group of younger students ran past me. One bumped straight into my shoulder. It was not bad. It was nothing, really. Even so, heat shot into my throat.

The strap of my bag tightened beneath my hand.

The boy stopped. He was smaller than me, perhaps by two years, and looked at me with wide eyes. He was waiting to be scolded. Perhaps he was used to it. Perhaps he had only seen my face.

Elias“It is fine,” I said.

It did not sound particularly friendly. But it was better than what had first been inside me.

After a quick nod, the boy ran on. A glance at my hand showed white knuckles. At the edge of my vision, a red shadow lay across the stone for a moment; after a blink, it was gone.

The students crowded closer together before the gate. No one pushed, but everyone wanted through. Above the entrance hung an unfamiliar sign: four lines meeting in the centre without touching. A guard stood beside it, old enough to have nothing to prove. His gaze suggested that he already knew who would be late.

The crowd carried me through the gate.

The schoolyard was large and brighter than expected. Several buildings stood around it, with a paved path through the middle leading to the main wing. To the right stood the chapel. From close by, it looked even smaller: a plain door, narrow windows, steps of worn stone. No students lingered there.

Even so, I did not stop.