You know... I spent my whole life thinking I'd be the "Foreigner cousin.". The one who couldn't speak Tagalog properly. The one who brought weird snacks to family reunions. The one everyone called Amerikana.

Turns out...

I'm the Black girl first. Funny how fast that changes. Dad said moving back to the Philippines would be a fresh start.

Fresh start. New house. New school. New people.

No Mom.

...

I still don't know how we're supposed to just... keep going after she died. Dad throws himself into work. I throw myself into pretending I'm okay. It's a system.

A bad one, but... it works. At least enough to get through the day. The first morning at school I kept telling myself, "You're Filipino too.", "You'll fit in eventually." Then I walked through the school gates. And every conversation stopped. It wasn't dramatic. No music. No gasps. Just... Heads turning. One. Then five. Then thirty. I don't think I'd ever been stared at that hard before. By first period everyone knew there was a new student. By second period everyone knew she was Black. By lunch...

Apparently the entire school knew I came from America. I couldn't even finish introducing myself before the questions started.

*"Does it snow everyday in?", "Are celebrities everywhere?", "Can you rap?", "Why is your English so fast?", "Do you know Beyoncé?", "...Why is your skin that color?"

I know they weren't trying to be mean. Most of them were just curious. But after the fiftieth question... You stop feeling like a classmate. You start feeling like...

An exhibit.

Then someone asked if my skin would wash off. Someone else asked if I got sunburned. Another girl looked genuinely worried and asked if my hair hurt. I laughed. Because what else do you do? If I got offended every five minutes... I'd never stop being offended. Then... Someone reached for my hair. No warning. Just...

"...Can I touch it?"

Actually—No. They didn't ask. Their hand was already halfway there. I froze. I hate that. People always think curly hair is public property. I was about to say something when—A hand grabbed their wrist.

"...Don't."

Just one word. Quiet. Flat.

Everyone immediately backed away. I looked over. She wasn't tall. Actually... She was kind of short. Black mask covering half her face. Choppy hair tied into a messy ponytail showing off her undercut. Her eyes... Wide. Really wide. Like she hadn't blinked since birth. She stared at everyone until the crowd slowly disappeared.

Nobody argued. Nobody complained. They just... Left. She finally looked at me.

"...They're annoying."

Then she walked away. Didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't introduce herself. Didn't wait for a thank you. Just... Left. I stood there thinking,

"Well... that was the coolest person I've ever seen."

Someone beside me sighed.

"That's Blaze."

"Oh."

"...She's scary."

"...Really?"

"You'll get used to her."

I watched Blaze disappear down the hallway. Scary? She just helped me. The rest of the day I kept seeing her. Always sitting alone. Always quiet. Always with those huge eyes. Teachers never yelled at her. Students stepped out of her way. Nobody bothered her. I figured she was one of those mysterious loner girls. You know. The type that secretly lives on rooftops. Listens to underground punk bands. Probably owns three knives. Then the next day... I saw Blaze laughing. Laughing. With six other girls. Then another group waved at her. Then a teacher stopped to ask how her weekend was. Then the lunch lady fist-bumped her. I just stood there confused.

"...Wait. I thought everyone was afraid of her."

The girl next to me looked at me like I was weird.

"Huh?"

"Blaze?"

"Everyone likes Blaze."

"She's literally terrifying."

"Yeah. She's nice though."

Nobody's actually scared she'll hurt them. They're just... Intimidated. Because she never takes off the mask and because she keeps her eyes so ridiculously open that making eye contact feels like you've accidentally challenged a wolf. She's completely normal. Which somehow makes her even weirder and makes me like her more.