October 13, 1999 – Eva's Periphery – Zone 47
The sun has just risen from its usual slumber, and with it, the birds reclaim the sky. The clouds, once listless, are painted in golden hues that mingle with their eternal white. Even the almost-imperceptible mist begins to withdraw from the stage.
Sarah says goodbye to her mother at the door. Her long, black hair, a stark contrast to her pale skin, sways gently in the morning breeze.
"No uniform again?" Leila, a woman with red hair and green eyes, frowns for a moment as she takes in her daughter's dark joggers and black shirt.
"We have P.E. today! I have a reputation to uphold," Sarah replies, her voice firm as she adjusts the dark green backpack on her shoulders.
"I even laid it out for you," Leila mumbles, placing a piece of fruit in the backpack.
"My bad!" Sarah is already mounted on her bicycle.
"Don't talk to strangers!" Leila calls after her, her voice laced with concern.
Sarah gives a distracted wave and pedals on.
As she rides, she observes the houses, a few cars, and even a light brown military vehicle on its morning patrol. She notices a gray gleam emanating from its rear bumper. A moment later, she sees another. But her curiosity quickly fades at the sight of the school gate.
Crossing it, she heads to the bike racks, where three girls leaning against a half-height fence watch her arrive. The whispering begins.
"Hey, girl! Get over here!" calls Grace, with her light brown hair.
Sarah approaches hesitantly.
"What grade are you in?" Grace asks in a superior tone.
"Eighth grade. Why?" Sarah replies, looking up to meet her gaze.
The three exchange silent glances before letting out stifled giggles.
"You're what, thirteen?" Grace questions her again.
"Fourteen."
"What a cute little backpack," Rita, with her straight, dark brown hair, says, stepping closer to touch the fabric disdainfully.
Sarah watches her from the corner of her eye.
"Hey, isn't she the daughter of that businessman?" Rita says loudly, casting an accusatory glance at Sarah.
"It's true! The one who does business with the nobles of Âmica," Grace adds, letting her resentment overflow. "She must be one of those spoiled little girls. By the way, why aren't you in a private school?"
"Now I remember! She's always playing around with the sophomore boys!" Letícia, with her chocolate-colored curly hair, hurls her words as if they were poison.
"Ew! Gross! Stay away from me, girl... boy... whatever you are!" Grace scoffs, turning away in disgust.
Sarah stares at the girls, her fists clenching.
Before anything else can happen, three boys approach, enveloping the girls in hugs. A few seconds later, Sarah is no longer there. Nobody seems to notice.
The minutes pass, and the bell rings. Students head to their classrooms, followed shortly by their teachers, who get to work.
At one point, when the teacher turns to write on the board, Marcela, a slender girl with blonde hair sitting behind Sarah, pokes her in the back.
"Hey, why didn't you eat with us today?" Her voice is sweet, even in a whisper.
"I wasn't hungry..." Sarah's raspy, low voice tosses words to the wind as her gaze gets lost on the floor between the rows of desks.
Marcela notices that the surface of her desk has small marks, as if a liquid had been hastily wiped away. She stares at Sarah's profile but remains silent.
One by one, the classes drift by. Explanations and questions are given, a few antics ensue, and then the lunch break arrives.
Sarah leaves before everyone else, sitting on the ground in the courtyard, leaning against a wall, seeking a patch of sunlight. The children who had been running to form a line for their meals are now running and playing tag. The older students are sitting, talking, and eating. A few even risk embarrassing themselves by trying to join in a game.
"Hey, can I sit here?" Marcela approaches from the left, her brow furrowed, observing Sarah, who is sitting cross-legged with her head resting in the palm of her hand, elbow on her knee.
Without turning, Sarah responds with a slight nod.
The silence stretches for a few seconds.
"So... tell me what happened," Marcela prompts. But the only answer she receives is the silence that continues to envelop their small corner.
"You're upset because of those stupid girls, right?" A young, male voice comes from her right. Marcela recognizes him as he steps into the sunlight.
"I saw you at the entrance today. Those idiots were bothering you?"
"So that's why you were crying?" Marcela asks without thinking.
Sarah shoots her a sulky look.
Bernardo sits down on Sarah's right. After a moment, Sarah takes a deep breath and lets it out, her eyes closed.
"Do you guys think I look like a boy?" Sarah asks, looking down.
"No! That's just who you are," Bernardo answers. "And to me, you're still a girl. The coolest girl in school. I still haven't forgotten how you rode down that huge street without even braking your bike." Bernardo says with enthusiasm, watching the children running across the courtyard in front of him.
"It's true, I'm even scared to get on a bike, but you always encourage me," Marcela adds her own kind words, her gaze lifting from the ground to her friend.
Tears stream down Sarah's face.
Marcela moves closer and hugs her. Bernardo doesn't hesitate and joins in. Smiles break through the sunlight.
"I love you guys!" In her slightly hoarse voice, carrying a tone of immense peace, she surrenders to the moment.
"Love you too!" Bernardo returns the sentiment.
"I loove you guysss toooo..." Marcela starts to cry.
Bernardo and Sarah laugh at their friend.
Sarah stands up and turns to them with the happiest look in the world—the eyes of someone who already has everything she ever wished for. She takes them by the arms and pulls them up.
"Come on, let's go! I have a reputation to defend. Let's see if someone is finally capable..." With a smile plastered on her face, Sarah leads them toward the battlefield.