Page 8 of Brutal Knight

"Hey!" The voice repeated, “I know you."

Don't look.

I couldn't help myself. My heart fluttered as my eyes glanced over, the sight of red ribbons fluttering in the air as the girl pumped her legs.

It was her.Alina: the girl in my class.

She had shiny red hair and blue eyes as bright as the sky. She always wore the same pink dress and grey rain boots. Her freckles seemed to dance across her cheeks as she laughed.

And she was always laughing, even though she was just as skinny as me.

At my glance, her feet dug into the snow, stopping the momentum of her next swing. Then she practically flung herself out of it before waltzing over to me. "Did you hear me?" She tilted her head, a puzzled expression to her face. "I said I know you."

"Yeah," I stared at the ground.She probably hates you and just wants to tell you you're ugly."You're in my class."

"That's it!"

I had the courage to look up, and her bright smile blazed at me. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing.” I gripped the bag to my chest harder and the smell of stale bread and green apples filled my nose. At the small movement, she looked down and I scrambled. “I mean, I just got back from the supermarket.”

Her eyes had frozen on it, and I could feel myself squishing the bread.

I'd been lucky.

Petrov, the clerk who stocked the shelves was going through it and getting rid of the molding bread. He sold it to me for half.

Alina’s smile was frozen on her face. She was still staring at me expectantly, her throat bobbing. I shifted uncomfortably, and finally, she looked up. “Wanna come swing with me?"

“There’s only one swing.”

Her shoulder came up, and she looked away, staring across the street at another apartment building. It was grey and stark, exactly like ours. “That’s okay.” Another smile broke out on her face, the freckles on her cheeks dancing. “I know! I can push you.”

She just wants to see if you’ll do it. Then she’ll run off and leave you there by yourself.I scowled, my teeth scraping over the freckle by my lip. “I’m not supposed to have friends.”

“You’re not?” Her eyes widened, and her finger twirled over the red ribbon in her hair. “Why not?”

I scrunched up my shoulders. “I don’t know.”Was that weird?I suddenly felt like an outcast. “How many friends do you have, anyways?”

“I don’t know! Maybe five? But they don’t live here.” Her eyes grew bigger and brighter. “Maybe you can ask your mama if we can be friends.”

“Maybe…” I looked away, staring at that empty swing, which was still swaying back and forth. “But I don’t think she’ll let me.”

"Tatiana!" The shrill voice of my mother made my shoulders haunch to my ears.

"Yes, mama?" I looked up, all the way up to the fifth floor, where her head was looming out over the porch.

"What are you doing? Come make breakfast.” She was frowning, and her hair was a dark brown mop of loose curls, sticking out every which way. She was still wearing her bathrobe, and you could see that she hadn’t tied it very well.

My face burned red at the sight of her.

“Your mama hasn’t made breakfast yet?” Alina looked astonished.

“Of course!” I tried to play it off, the blush on my cheeks spreading down my chest. My embarrassment was making my fingers tingle. “She just wants to teach me how to do it.”

“Oh.” Once again, Alina’s eyes strayed to the bread.

The sound of a door slamming reminded me that I was supposed to be cooking breakfast and I turned to rush towards the doors. “Bye!”

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