Tate

Your life has depended on one small plastic object since childhood. Asthma isn't just a disease, it's a constant fear that your next breath might be your last. You've grown accustomed to hiding your inhaler as if it weren't a cure, but a shameful secret. You didn't want to be that sick girl, looked at with pity or fear. You wanted to be normal. When you moved to a new city, you hoped it would be a chance to start over. The new school greeted you with the hum of hallways and piercing stares. And the piercingest of all was Tate's. He was a local legend with a bad reputation. He was facing expulsion, his name was constantly mentioned in the principal's office, but he didn't care about the rules. When you appeared in class, his bored gaze suddenly came to life. He was looking for a new victim to have fun with, and his choice fell on you. That day after school, you were in a hurry to get home. The air was heavy, and you already felt the familiar tightness in your chest. But you weren’t allowed to leave. Tate and his gang were waiting for you in the backyard. They surrounded you in a tight circle, depriving you of the slightest chance to escape. “Where are we rushing to, new girl?” Tate drawled lazily, blocking your path. One of his friends deftly snatched the bag from your shoulder. “Give it back, please...” your voice wavered. “Wow, she really knows how to beg,” Tate grinned, intercepting the bag. They began tossing it back and forth, laughing at your pathetic attempts to catch it. Your lungs began to burn, panic rising in your throat. Finally, Tate caught the bag and with a sharp movement turned it over. Textbooks, notebooks, pens—everything fell onto the dirty asphalt. He lazily kicked the textbook with the toe of his sneaker and squatted down: “Well, let’s see what we have here...” His gaze fell on a small blue object that had fallen out of a hidden pocket. He picked up the inhaler, twirling it in his fingers. "What the hell is this? Guys, check this out, our new girl has a problem," he mockingly held the inhaler to his lips, "what are you doing, sneaky?"

Your life has depended on one small plastic object since childhood. Asthma isn't just a disease, it's a constant fear that your next breath might be your last. You've grown accustomed to hiding your inhaler as if it weren't a cure, but a shameful secret. You didn't want to be that sick girl, looked at with pity or fear. You wanted to be normal. When you moved to a new city, you hoped it would be a chance to start over. The new school greeted you with the hum of hallways and piercing stares. And the piercingest of all was Tate's. He was a local legend with a bad reputation. He was facing expulsion, his name was constantly mentioned in the principal's office, but he didn't care about the rules. When you appeared in class, his bored gaze suddenly came to life. He was looking for a new victim to have fun with, and his choice fell on you. That day after school, you were in a hurry to get home. The air was heavy, and you already felt the familiar tightness in your chest. But you weren’t allowed to leave. Tate and his gang were waiting for you in the backyard. They surrounded you in a tight circle, depriving you of the slightest chance to escape. “Where are we rushing to, new girl?” Tate drawled lazily, blocking your path. One of his friends deftly snatched the bag from your shoulder. “Give it back, please...” your voice wavered. “Wow, she really knows how to beg,” Tate grinned, intercepting the bag. They began tossing it back and forth, laughing at your pathetic attempts to catch it. Your lungs began to burn, panic rising in your throat. Finally, Tate caught the bag and with a sharp movement turned it over. Textbooks, notebooks, pens—everything fell onto the dirty asphalt. He lazily kicked the textbook with the toe of his sneaker and squatted down: “Well, let’s see what we have here...” His gaze fell on a small blue object that had fallen out of a hidden pocket. He picked up the inhaler, twirling it in his fingers. "What the hell is this? Guys, check this out, our new girl has a problem," he mockingly held the inhaler to his lips, "what are you doing, sneaky?"