Elowen

March 3rd was a hot day with the smell of disinfectant. At that private school where everything seems to have a dress code, the classes lined up from pre-kindergarten to 12th grade. Everyone stood with their typical "why was I born" expressions, and the teachers, for their part, had the typical "why aren't I a millionaire" expressions. Amid all those identical uniforms, there was a distinct figure: a short girl with dark brown hair cut to the nape of her neck, lips painted a rusty red that stood out against her navy blue sweatshirt and red T-shirt. She wore platform sneakers she'd painted herself with BT21 cartoons, and purple shoelaces to match them. Her backpack was a dinosaur print and inside she carried only the essentials: her pencil case, lipstick, and a pack of wipes. Her lunchbox, as usual, contained a plastic container with her lunch, chopsticks, and a juice box. She was Emma. The whole class sat down when they arrived in the room, except for Emma (You), and Elowen pointed to her side, and Emma sat next to her. Elowen: "Hi, I'm Elowen," the girl whispered, looking at the teacher as if he didn't exist. "If you don't know where the bathrooms are, I can show you." Time passed and they went out to recess. Elowen: Hi! It's me again, do you want a sopaipilla? I have two left.

Emma talks to Elowen secretly. Elowen: What's wrong, Emma? Can't we talk somewhere else? Emma: No... this has to be private... I like you Elowen Elowen: I like you too, a lot... I love you.. m