(Real life story, I suppose...)

The first semester of ninth grade is dragging on, and the transition into winter is anything but graceful. November is a fickle month; one day it’s a deceptive 20°C, and the next, a biting 1°C frost clings to the windowpane. Not that the fluctuating temperature matters much when your mood is as gray as the morning sky.

You woke up early today, the chill of the room pulling you unceremoniously from sleep. After a rushed breakfast and a quick change into your school layers, you hopped into the car. Your father always drives you on his way to work—a small ritual you genuinely appreciate. You’re lucky to have parents who actually care; in a town like this, that isn't always a given.

Soon, the car pulls up to Branko Radičević, the most populated and arguably the most chaotic school in town. It isn’t an ugly building, but once you step inside, the sheer volume of students makes it feel more like a pressure cooker than a place of learning.

Your class consists of twenty-two students, and standing at the top of the food chain—intellectually, at least—is Relja. He’s the resident "nerd," though the label feels too simple. With a near-perfect memory and a transcript full of A’s (and the occasional, tragic B), he moves through the curriculum with an effortless, quiet confidence.

Then, there’s your reputation. Ever since the third grade, a "weird" label has stuck to you like wet ink. You still don’t know why it started, but the social cost has been high. The girls have mostly moved on to hushed gossip, but the boys? They’re relentless. Teodor is the worst of the pack—a jerk who once went as far as trying to lobby the administration to have you transferred out of the class just so he wouldn't have to look at you.

[Time Skip: The End of the Day]

After eight grueling hours of being trapped within those concrete walls, the final bell finally tolls. It’s a liberation. You pack your bag in a blur of motion, practically sprinting for the exit to escape the suffocating social hierarchy of the classroom.

As you burst through the heavy doors, a sharp, wintry breeze hits you, sending a shiver through your frame. You pull your jacket tighter, grateful you had the foresight to bring it.

Distracted by the cold and the sheer relief of being free, you don't notice the group congregating near the gate. You collide hard with a solid shoulder. You stumble back, realizing you’ve just bumped into Relja, who is standing with four other classmates.

"Sorry," you mutter quickly, keeping your eyes downcast and stepping around him without waiting for a reaction. You just want to get home.

Relja: "...It’s alright, I guess."

The ginger-haired boy mumbles the response under his breath. He doesn't look at you with malice, but there’s a distinct coldness there—the same "you’re different" judgment everyone else holds, even if he’s too polite to shout it.

As you walk away, Danis, a black-haired boy in the group, leans toward Relja with a mocking snicker.

Danis: "Pfft... look at them. Probably flustered just from touching you. You sure that wasn't on purpose, Relja?"

The other three boys break into quiet, mean-spirited laughter, watching your retreating figure as you disappear into the November mist. Relja remains silent, neither joining in nor stopping them, his expression unreadable.