Chapter 1 — Hide-and-Seek

"Ready or not, I'm coming!"

I shouted it louder than necessary because that was what you were supposed to do when you were the seeker. If the entire neighborhood did not know you were searching for three children hiding within fifty meters, were you even playing properly?

I uncovered my eyes and turned around.

Empty playground.

A slide. Two swings. A climbing frame. A row of bushes beside the low wall.

Easy.

We didn't usually play here.

Actually, I couldn't remember the last time we'd come this far just to play.

There were plenty of places around our neighborhood, small streets where almost no cars passed, empty spaces between houses, someone's front yard whenever their parents allowed it. Most afternoons, those were enough.

This playground was farther away.

Not far far.

At least, that was what we'd told ourselves while walking here.

But definitely far enough that going home later would become tomorrow's problem.

I wasn't even sure whose idea it had been.

One of us had probably said,

"Let's go to the playground."

And the rest of us, possessing the excellent decision-making abilities expected from children, had answered,

"Okay."

That was it.

No special reason.

No plan.

We simply ended up here.

At the time, I didn't think there was anything important about that.

It was just another place to play.

I checked behind the slide first.

Nobody.

Under the platform.

Nobody.

Behind the thick tree near the gate—

also nobody.

I grinned.

They were getting better.

That made it more fun.

I moved toward the bushes at the far side of the playground, deliberately stepping lightly. Voices drifted through the leaves.

Found them.

I almost jumped out immediately. Then I heard my name.

My feet stopped.

“Sometimes he’s fun,” one of them whispered.

“Yeah, but when he gets too comfortable, he gets annoying.”

There was a quiet laugh.

“Yesterday he wouldn’t stop. I was already irritated.”

“Same.”

I stood behind the bushes with one hand still holding a branch aside.

For some reason, the first thing I thought was that I should not breathe too loudly.

They kept talking.

Nobody said they hated me. Nobody called me terrible. There was no grand betrayal hidden behind those leaves.

That almost made it worse.

Because I understood what they meant.

I remembered yesterday. I remembered talking too much. Teasing too much. Laughing when one of them had already stopped laughing. At the time I had not noticed.

Now I noticed everything.

My hand slowly released the branch.

A strange heat climbed into my face.

I could have walked away.

Instead, I took three exaggerated steps through the grass.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The whispering stopped.

I pushed through the bushes with the biggest smile I could manage.

“Found you!”

All three jumped.

For half a second, nobody celebrated.

They looked at me. Then at one another.

One of them laughed too quickly. “You scared us!”

“That’s the point.” I pointed toward the playground. “You’re all caught. I win.”

“You took forever!”

“Because you’re terrible at hiding.”

“You literally took forever!”

And just like that, the game continued.

I laughed when they laughed. I ran when they ran. I complained when somebody changed the rules halfway through. If they were worried I had heard them, I gave them no reason to keep worrying.

The strange part was that I still had fun.

I just heard myself differently now.

Every joke passed through a new question before leaving my mouth.

Was that too much?

Every laugh made me wonder if I was being too loud.

Every time someone went quiet, I wondered if I had caused it.

By the time the sky began turning orange, I was exhausted.

“We’re going home,” one of them said.

“See you tomorrow!”

I lifted a hand. “Yeah. See you.”

“You coming?”

I looked at the swings.

“In a bit.”

Nobody questioned it.

Their voices slowly disappeared down the road.

I sat on one of the swings.

The chains creaked.

I pushed my shoes against the dirt, moving only a little.

They were not wrong.

That thought hurt more than anything else.

Maybe I really was annoying.

Maybe people only liked me until I became comfortable enough to stop being careful.

Maybe that was the trick.

Be friendly.

Laugh with people.

Play with them.

Just don't get too comfortable.

Don't say too much.

Don't joke too much.

Don't give anyone a reason to wish you'd stayed quiet.

Simple.

...

It didn't feel simple.

My vision blurred.

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I rubbed my eyes quickly.

“Are you crying?”

I nearly fell off the swing.

A girl stood a few steps away.

About my age, maybe.

She had been watching me with the kind of curious expression children had when they'd discovered something they weren't supposed to see.

I had no idea how long she had been there.

“No.”

She tilted her head.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Dust.”

She looked around.

Not a leaf was moving.

“There’s no wind.”

I stared at her.

She stared back.

“Aggressive dust,” I said.

Her lips twitched.

Then she laughed.

I should have been annoyed.

Instead, somehow—

I laughed too.

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