Boundaries

3

I groaned as my alarm clock blared, cutting through the silence of the morning. Rubbing my eyes, I rolled over and hit the snooze button harder than necessary.

Why do schools even exist? Mornings too?

Did the person who invented school go to school? So why should i?

Summer break had felt way too short, but here I was, gearing up for my first day of senior year. The finish line. One more year, and I’d never have to deal with this place again.

“Matthew!” my mom shouted from downstairs. “Are you still in this house?”

I wanted to shout back, Yes, Mom, I’m here because your husband—my dad—is too busy being a useless couch warmer to do anything, so someone has to work and go to school! But I didn’t.

“Coming, Ma!”

Thirty minutes later, I was walking into what I considered prison: school. Second only to that hellish summer camp Mom used to force Drew and me to go to as kids.

Drew loved it though, which i hope had nothing to do with the numerous girls entering and leaving his tent every night.

i once saw the tour guide leave his tent once.

Or twice.

The halls were already buzzing. People bumped into me, high-fived their friends, and yelled across the corridors. The sheer chaos made my skin crawl. I didn’t have social anxiety or anything, but too many hands brushing against me felt like needles stabbing through my skin.

I picked up my pace, slipping into homeroom before the crowd overwhelmed me. The room was blissfully empty, and I sighed in relief.

Happy thoughts, Matthew. Happy thoughts.

This was senior year. One more year, and I wouldn’t have to see these people again. Not the cheerleaders who were way too old to still be wearing those ridiculous skirts. Not the football team, who seemed to think dating one girl was too basic, so they’d settled for at least two each.

I sank into my seat, staring at the clock. Only eight hours and thirty-five minutes to go.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Drew had sworn he’d pick me up today so I could get home, change, and head to work, but apparently, something very important had come up. It had to be, considering he was three hours late.

I didn’t bring my bike because I’d counted on his ride—big mistake. Now, I’d have to walk straight to work sweaty and exhausted. And yes, I was already late. Again.

Not that I was shocked. Drew wasn't exactly your ideal older brother.

By the time I stumbled into the animal shelter, forty-five minutes after leaving home, my legs felt like jelly. But at least I was here. That had to count for something, right?

The bell jingled above me as I stepped inside, and the familiar smell of antiseptic and wet fur hit me like a wave. Mr. Chen, bless his endlessly patient soul, looked up from a chart with his usual calm demeanor.

leaned on my knees, trying to catch my breath after the near sprint.

He gave a small chuckle, then nodded toward the back room. "The German Shepherd’s doing better today. You should see her."

My mood instantly lifted at the thought of the dog. I quickly sanitized my hands and walked into the treatment room. There she was, lying on her side but alert this time, her ears twitching as she caught the sound of my steps.

"Hey, girl," I murmured, kneeling beside her. Her tail gave a small wag, and my chest ached with equal parts relief and sadness. "You’re such a fighter, aren’t you?"

Her soft eyes met mine, and I could almost pretend she was reassuring me, not the other way around.

"Matthew, supplies came in today. Would you mind organizing the crates in the storage room?" Mr. Chen’s voice interrupted my moment.

"Sure thing," I said, giving the Shepherd one last pat before heading to the back.

The crates were stacked haphazardly, as usual. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to tackle the chaos, when the front bell rang again. I didn’t think much of it until I heard Mr. Chen greet someone.

We rarely got visitors at this hour.

I peeked out from the storage room just in time to see a boy my age walk in, looking like he belonged on a magazine cover instead of in our little shelter. His leather jacket hung loosely over a gray hoodie, and his rain-damp hair fell in soft waves over his forehead.

But it wasn’t his appearance that caught me off guard. It was the look in his eyes—sharp and almost desperate as they locked onto the German Shepherd.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice quieter than I’d ever heard it.

Mr. Chen gestured toward the treatment room. "Go see for yourself."

He didn’t hesitate, gently running his hand over her head, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.

"She’s stable," Mr. Chen said, breaking the silence. "But we need to discuss chemo. It’s her best chance."

I watched him nod, though his jaw tightened. "Whatever she needs. Just… do it."

He looked up then, catching me watching him from the doorway. His eyebrows lifted, and for a moment, I thought I’d offended him.

But the thing was i couldn't look away, though i so desperately wanted to

"Matthew," Mr. Chen called from behind him, breaking the tension. "The crates?"

"Right," I said quickly, disappearing into the storage room before the boy could say anything.

After a few minutes of moving crates, I decided to step back out. The room felt too small, and I needed a breather. As I emerged, I caught sight of the boy near the front door, shrugging his jacket back on. He was about to leave, but his gaze landed on me, or rather, my cardigan.

"Hey," he said, pausing. "You go to Westbrook right?" His voice was casual, but his eyes lingered on the school crest embroidered near my shoulder.

I nodded, hesitant. "Yeah."

A small smile curved his lips as he took a step closer. "Thought so. I just transferred there. What do you think?"

I blinked at him, unsure how to respond. Was he really talking to me. why?

"Matthew’s not the most vocal person." Mr. Chen chimed in from behind the counter after a minute had passes with no reply from me.

"oh"

His hand lifted slightly, like he was about to clap me on the shoulder or shake my hand, but I instinctively flinched, stepping back quickly. The movement was subtle, but the look of surprise that flashed across his face told me he’d noticed.

"Sorry," I mumbled, stuffing my hands into my pockets. My heart raced, not just from the sudden proximity but from the wave of discomfort his gesture had triggered.

He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "No problem," he said softly, his tone gentler now. "Didn’t mean to freak you out."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He lingered for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before taking a small step back. "Well, guess I’ll see you around, Matthew. And thanks for looking after my girl."

Hearing my name from him felt strange, like it didn’t quite belong to me anymore. "Yeah," I managed, though it came out quieter than I intended.

The door closed with a soft jingle, leaving me standing there, my mind spinning. His presence lingered in the air, heavy and distracting.