The Perfect Outcast

meant their words could be false. Boys’ insults were always true.
For this reason, she took the long way home. She’d arrive fifteen minutes sooner if she walked on Emrys Street, but that meant passing the thrill park occupied by loud, lecherous boys who believed a girl’s worst crime was to be unattractive. Emrys also crossed an upscale section of Pria with homes four times the size of Alina’s. Swimmers in bikinis on every deck made her feel two feet shorter and wider.
She preferred the back trail that twisted through rows of symmetrical, six-petaled flowers. No flower had the same color or pattern, and they extended for miles over the green hills in the distance.
When she reached the homes on her street she often saw Cecilia, an aspiring aerial dancer, practicing a routine between her front trees. Three doors down lived Roger, who switched careers so many times over the decades he finally gave up and spent his afternoons drinking on his front porch. He wasn’t friendly, but occasionally nodded at Alina and sent Jade his regards. Otherwise, the street was empty. Most people who lived on Evergreen Loop stayed hidden.
But today, Alina didn’t notice the flowers, Cecilia, Roger, or the pink fleecy kitten that followed her, purring for attention. Her thoughts were fixed on Zaiden.
He’d been in her history class all year, but he sat in the back—perhaps this was why she overlooked him. Who were his friends? She couldn’t recall seeing him with anyone. He’d never been rude to her—she knew that much. Maybe he was a transfer student from the opposite side of town. A dip in social status sometimes drove people to the outskirts of Pria, and a change in schools concealed this downgrade at least for a while. But he didn’t seem like the type who’d care about that.
Their history teacher called on him often in class, and he knew the answers as if he’d memorized every historical fact about Pria. Alina paused her steps. She had noticed him before. He sat on a bench in front of the school each morning, reading his panel. She entered through the front door on occasion, and once he glanced up when she passed. Their eyes had met. But they hadn’t spoken until today.
She smiled as she skipped up the steps to her door, until the memory of Miss Rhonda’s lesson washed over her like a cold shower. Her hands shook as she tapped the code on the lock-screen and slipped inside. Jade had surely been notified she’d skipped class. Alina hoped the repercussions wouldn’t be too severe, for either of them.
The house was empty, so Alina made a sandwich, sank into the couch, and clicked on the monitor. Jade didn’t let her watch until she completed her homework, but she didn’t care. I’m in enough trouble already. I may as well live it up.
She clicked aimlessly through the streams and stopped when a man, dressed in black, peered through a window at a girl lying in bed. A long knife glistened in his hand.
Jade once told her that because no one understood death, they had an extreme fascination with it. The obsession seemed silly to Alina, but now she found herself unable to pull her eyes from the screen.
The man opened the window, crept into the room, and peered down at the girl. Her blonde hair flowed over her pillow in the moonlight. He flashed a cold smile, then lifted the knife and plunged the edge into her throat. Alina screamed and covered her eyes, fumbling with the controls until the screen went black.
She curled up on the couch and squeezed her eyes shut. The sandwich churned in her stomach. Think of something else, anything else. No, not Miss Rhonda’s lesson, something happy. Jade. No, she’s angry with me. Something nice. Zaiden.
She took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. No boy had looked at her that way before—past her blemishes as if he didn’t see them. He didn’t care if anyone saw them together—in fact, he seemed to like it. For the first time in years, she felt someone wanted to be her friend.
She had a friend once—Pierce. He’d lived next door and didn’t mind that she looked different. They scaled trees together and threw the squishy fruit at the ground critters, where the flesh bounced off their fur and hit the ground with a splat.
With Pierce, Alina first noticed she couldn’t run fast or do tricks. Once, after climbing the glossy trunk of a rainbow tree, Pierce leaped from a top branch and did two flips before landing on his feet.
“Try it!” he called to her. “You think you can’t, but that’s only ’cause you haven’t tried! It works for everyone, I promise.”
Alina shuddered as she reached the top branch, her body crying a warning to her.
“Do it!” he called again. “I didn’t know how it was going to happen either, but it just does!”
She swallowed, bent her knees to push off, closed her eyes and then—
“Alina, no!” a frantic voice called.
Jade’s panicked face appeared above the fence of their yard. Alina cowered and climbed down, muttering goodbye to Pierce as she ran home.
He and his caretaker moved the following day. He lived somewhere in Pria, but she never saw him. She might not recognize him if she did. They had grown up.
But she had a friend once; that’s what mattered. And now, perhaps, she had one in Zaiden. She stretched her arms above her head and smiled, then masked a lengthy yawn with her hand. The emotions of the day had drained her, and she closed her eyes. Sleep came as a welcome relief.
Alina awoke to a crystal bird twittering outside her window. She parted the blinds and found its clear feathers among the satin leaves of the rainbow tree. The crystal bird differed from the other flashy birds, and its translucence brought rest to her overstimulated eyes.
Outside, the street swarmed with people, though the sun barely peeked on the horizon,