May, close to the end of school, was the encounter. They met in a crowd of strangers, Felix at the center. Two other boys were pummeling him and Thomas, passing by while walking to the bus, stopped and tiptoed at the edge, taller than most.
Small framed and copy paper pale, Felix was a sight to behold, limbs twig-like, hair a faint blond. He was laughing. The harder they hit, the more he laughed, cuts on his eyebrow, bruises on his face, blood on his swollen lower lip. His laughter reminded Thomas of cathedrals and pews, and saints who were hung and burned.
When the mob dispersed, Thomas remained, staring shamelessly at Felix. The young man was wiping his cuts with his black shirt. Thomas took two steps forward.
"What do you want?"
"Do you... need help?"
The smile following this was meek and unassuming. "These will heal by tomorrow morning."
"...Valiant Co," Thomas blurted out, a hunch. "You're like me."
He froze. "Whoa. I was told most of the tests don't live past toddler age."
What followed was silence. Breathing, whispering through Thomas's ears- he could feel everything, from the veins inside him to Felix's little sniffles from his bloody nose.
"Let's be friends," Felix offered out of the blue, the school name tag still around his bony neck, Felix Sarai, Junior, Seller High. A public school. Thomas, surprised at his frankness, looked him in the eye with furrowed brows.
"Okay, sure," he answered, in shock at himself.
"I gotta go home, but here's my address." Felix scribbled down on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper from his pocket, and handed it over, before walking in the opposite direction, casually waving goodbye.
What a weird kid.
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