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墨書 Inktalez
The sunlight filtering through the falling phoenix tree leaves danced on the desk as I held a piece of chalk, drawing the sixteenth character on the blackboard. This was the third successful mediation of a bullying incident this year, and chalk dust fell softly into my palm, momentarily bringing back memories of my middle school textbooks splattered with paint.
"Lin Xiao!" Xiao Ya burst into the classroom, her hair tips dampened by the soft March rain as she clutched a folder. "The Education Bureau approved our club's upgrade!" The notice she held fluttered in the draft, resembling a dove in flight. I reached out to catch the drifting paper, its ink mingling with the musty scent of the old teaching building.
Suddenly, a cold soda can pressed against the back of my neck. Chen Hao grinned, revealing his canine teeth. "Celebratory drinks." As the carbonation fizzed in my throat, I gazed out the window at students chasing each other, and I was reminded of two years ago when we huddled in the equipment room eating cold lunches. Back then, Xiao Ya always shared her fried shrimp with me, saying that the Victims' Alliance needed to gain weight together.
"Next week's campus open day..." Xiao Ya spread out design plans in the club activity room, using a fluorescent marker to trace a winding orange-yellow route on the map. "I want to turn 'Courage Tunnel' into a mirrored maze." Her eyelashes fluttered in the blue light of the projector, and the sound of keyboard clacking mingled with cicada calls. When the first transfer student cried and hugged us, I felt the shredded hole in her uniform's back and suddenly understood that some scars would become badges of honor.
The wind on the rooftop filled our school uniforms as Xiao Ya paused while adjusting a drone. "Do you remember that endlessly resetting April?" She traced her fingertip over a faint scar on my wrist, a mark left from those cyclical times. Shadows passed over her newly cut short hair as I saw on the screen the gradually forming interface of our anti-bullying app, pixelated images reminiscent of the cherry blossom tree where we first held hands.
On graduation day, I stood under the spotlight in the auditorium. My speech was wrinkled from sweat-soaked hands, but when I spotted an empty seat in the third row, I straightened my back—there was that girl who always hid in the storage locker giving me a thumbs up. As applause washed over the stage like a tide, Xiao Ya raised a cardboard sign reading "Best Actor" backstage, smiling like a cat that had stolen cream.
The sound of clock gears meshed clearly in the twilight; I counted each echo of Xiao Ya's high heels on the steps. Three hundred sixty-five steps—just enough for us to escape that cycle. Suddenly she turned around, her earrings shimmering in the fading light. "What if we could restart April..."
"We'd just fall in love three hundred times again." I caught the loquat candy she tossed at me; its aluminum foil sparkled like stars. The sounds of new students shouting military training slogans echoed from below as a flock of pigeons flew past the fence where we had carved our names, heading toward streets illuminated by streetlights.
In the distance, cheers erupted from the Experimental Building as drones formed constellations in the night sky. The children taught by Xiao Ya in programming class had succeeded; those twinkling lights gradually shaped into outlines of "the future." She leaned against my shoulder with a soft laugh, her hair carrying hints of orange blossom intertwined with memories of disinfectant from rainy days—no longer sending shivers down my spine.
The wind lifted her teacher's badge pinned to her chest; its metallic sheen reflected two faded student IDs. Those were handed to us by our guidance counselor last year: "Someone has to remember." In that moment, I finally understood the moisture behind his glasses, just as I realized that some scars would eventually blossom into spring's veins.
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