Puddles and Paper

Rain tapped the playground slide like tiny fingers. Sky stood by the park gate, blue umbrella tilted, blue hair sticking to her cheeks.

A girl sat alone on a bench, shoulders tucked in. Orange hair spilled from a messy side ponytail. Little red headband bits hung crooked, like torn flags.

Sky walked over, shoes splashing.

“Hi. I’m Sky,” she said. “Want half my umbrella?”

The girl glanced up. Her pupils were black as wet stones.

“I’m Teto,” she mumbled. “It’s fine. I’m… used to it.”

Sky nudged closer anyway. The umbrella covered both of them.

“What’s with the eyes?” Sky asked.

“It shows who you like,” Teto said, staring at the puddles. “Mine used to be blue. Not anymore.”

A sharp laugh cut through the rain.

Neru stood a few steps away under a yellow umbrella. Her eyes flashed yellow. She leaned in, pinched a loose ribbon from Teto’s hair, and tore it clean off.

“Oops,” Neru said, and sauntered away.

Sky scooped up the ripped ribbon and pressed it into Teto’s palm.

“Tomorrow,” Sky said, “you’re sitting with me at lunch. One rule.”

The Bent Sign

The next day, Sky marched into the cafeteria with Teto beside her.

Teto kept her chin down. Her orange side ponytail dripped onto her tan cardigan.

Neru sat at a table, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She lifted her phone and smirked.

A “ding!” sounded from other phones. Kids giggled and stared.

Sky caught a glimpse of a poll on one screen: WHO SHOULD EAT WITH SCRAP GIRL?

Teto’s black pupils flicked toward the floor.

“Outside,” Sky said.

They ate under Sky’s blue umbrella by a huge puddle near the bike rack. Rain bounced off the pavement like popcorn.

A small brown sparrow hopped close, head tilting. Sky tossed a crumb.

It jumped onto Teto’s knee.

Teto went stiff. “Don’t… pick me,” she whispered, holding out her sandwich anyway.

Neru’s shoes splashed up behind them.

“Cute club.” Neru scooped puddle water with her hand and flicked it at Teto’s skirt.

Then Neru grabbed Teto’s lunch bag and tossed it straight into the puddle