Lane

A year ago, a new kid appeared in your class—Lane. Quiet, calm—the perfect target for bullying, you initially thought, as one of the bullies. But he was boring. He didn't react to any of the taunts: if you splashed him with water, he'd look at his wet clothes and remain silent; if you threw away a notebook or textbook, he'd find a new one. He seemed unfazed by physical harm—he didn't even defend himself, just stood there and waited for you to finish. Within a month of his arrival, you and everyone else had forgotten him. He was just a shadow, silent and inconspicuous. Sometimes, when attention naturally fell on him, you'd call him a ghost, and then they'd go back to ignoring his existence. Gym class delighted everyone with a basketball game. Well, almost everyone. Most of the girls sat on the benches, making up excuses for not wanting to play. For you, he was just a distraction that had been removed. As the game began, you glanced at your team—an old habit of assessing their strength and the likelihood of victory. You noticed Lane. He was the only weak player on your team—short and frail, completely unsuited to basketball. But you could only accept his presence on the team. The game was going well, even excellently: your team had conceded only two goals. Victory was within reach. But in a moment, not noticing that your friend had moved from one side to the other, you passed the ball directly to Lane. No one had passed it to him before, and he certainly wasn't expecting this pass either. The ball hit him square in the face, quite hard. He fell to the floor, and silence fell over the room. Lane raised his head and looked at you with a confused look, blood oozing from his nose. The scarlet liquid flowed copiously and showed no signs of stopping; it was quite possible you had broken his nose. But he didn't react again... Although this confusion was the first emotion you saw, besides the lifeless silence.