Ken stared out the window, wondering how a world this perfect came to be. Who built it? Why? When? None of it made sense to him. The idea that someone had decided the world needed to be perfect made his blood boil.
It was six in the morning, almost time to go to school. Ken would have preferred to stay home, away from the plastic smiles and polished lies. He hid behind doors most days, waiting for the moment the drink spilled—when perfection cracked and revealed the mess underneath.
He used to be confused too—until he saw it happen with his own eyes.
It was a day like any other. A little boy sat alone in a sandbox, carefully building a castle. Ken noticed him from a distance—the boy's white hair glinted in the sunlight like snow. He was beautiful in a way that made Ken feel quiet.
Ken walked toward him, hoping for a friend.
"Can I help?" he asked gently.
The boy startled, flinching so hard he nearly destroyed his creation.
"Why did you do that? You almost ruined it," the boy whimpered.
Ken's eyes drifted over the castle—it was intact. He looked at the boy more closely then. Hair like snow. Eyes just as pale. A snowstorm trapped in a child's body.
"May I help?" Ken asked again.
The boy didn't respond. Just kept playing, ignoring him.
Ken sat beside him anyway. He considered asking for the boy's name instead of mentally calling him Snow.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Snow glared. Then, suddenly, he destroyed his castle—kicking it, smashing it, scattering every careful piece.
"Leave me alone!" he screamed.
Ken flinched. The boy's pupils were blown wide, his tiny fists clenched and red with rage. Before Ken could say another word, a voice called out from across the yard.
"Ken, are you okay?" a classmate asked, jogging up to him. "You were talking to Dawn... you probably shouldn't."
Ken blinked. Dawn? So that was his name.
"Why not?" Ken asked.
The classmate placed two hands on Ken's shoulders. He didn't like being touched, but he didn't pull away—not yet.
"His father is on the other side."
That was all he said. But it was enough to make Ken's mind spin.
A sudden noise yanked him from the memory. Back in his apartment, Ken moved slowly toward the living room door. His breath was shallow. His hand hovered over the doorknob.
He peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just black.
Someone's covering it, Ken thought grimly.
He opened the door. A wave of fake cheer hit him in the face.
"Since we're neighbors," Misty beamed, "I thought we could walk to school together!"
She waltzed in without waiting for permission.
Ken didn't like her. Or maybe he just didn't like what she represented—unshakable happiness in a broken world.
"You can stay here if you want," he muttered, grabbing his bag. "But I'm leaving."
He knew it was irrational to leave someone alone in his apartment. But if Misty wanted to steal something, she could have it. It was all just junk from people he didn't know or care about.
"You've got a lot of stuff," Misty commented, walking beside him. "Where'd you get it?"
Ken sighed. Why is she so fast? he thought, glancing at her effortless stride.
"People," he replied flatly.
When he looked over at her, he was caught off guard. She was making a ridiculous face—silly and contorted, like she didn't care if she looked dumb. It was... weirdly refreshing. Most people in this world wanted to stay flawless.
"Ooooh, you're popular with the women," she teased, lightly tapping his shoulder.
Ken scowled. It irritated him. Luckily, it was only older women who paid him any attention. No one his age cared—except Misty, who was becoming more of a problem every day.
He used to go unnoticed. Then she transferred in two weeks ago. Now they were both in B-2, a class reserved for the exceptional. The legendary.
Ken had hoped they'd ignore him like a virus. That was what he planned to do in return.
But something told him that wasn't going to happen.
It's going to be a tiring year, Ken thought grimly.