What a Loser
Roy didn’t want to go back inside; he went up to the door and opened it and looked. The cabin felt too full; it was too warm, too loud, and too alive with people he wasn’t ready to talk to. The quiet outside was easier. Cleaner. Something he could breathe without thinking.
So instead of returning to the others, he stepped off the porch, stretched once, and let his prana lift him upward.
The wind caught him immediately.
He rose above the treetops, above the fields, above the outskirts, until the world below stretched out like a painting. The morning sun was climbing slowly, brushing the rooftops of 1980s London with soft gold. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys. Cars crawled along the roads like tired beetles. The city looked older, slower and gentler than the one he knew.
He hovered there for a moment, taking it in.
8:45 AM. London was waking up.
He dropped down toward the main road, landing lightly on the pavement. The air smelt like petrol, damp concrete, and bakery bread. People walked past him in coats and scarves, clutching newspapers and briefcases. No one looked twice at him — just another young man on the street.
He started walking.
And then he saw her.
Maddy.
She stood near the corner of the road, cigarette between her fingers, coat draped lazily over her shoulders. Her expression was the same as always: bored, unimpressed and vaguely irritated at the existence of everything around her.
But she wasn’t alone.
A group of men had circled her, their voices low and mocking. One leaned too close. Another reached for her arm. A third blocked her path.
Roy slowed.
He didn’t intervene, as he knew he didn’t need to.
Maddy exhaled smoke once, flicked ash off her cigarette, and then moved.
Her hand snapped across the first man’s face, a clean, sharp slap that sent him stumbling sideways. She ducked under the second man’s grab, slapped him across the jaw, pivoted and slapped the third, then the fourth, then the fifth, each strike perfectly timed, perfectly placed and perfectly dismissive.
It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t even effort.
It was her sorting out trash.
The men collapsed or staggered backward, clutching their faces, swearing, confused and humiliated. Maddy didn’t even look at them. She just stepped over one of them and continued walking.
Then she noticed Roy.
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
She walked straight toward him, cigarette still between her fingers. “I said stop looking at me.”
Roy’s face dropped. He genuinely couldn’t be bothered with that tone this early in the morning. “What if I don’t want to?”
Her eyebrow twitched. “Then you’re already annoying me.”
Roy muttered under his breath. “Right, when aren’t you annoyed?"
Maddy scoffed in response. “And you’re always staring.”
Roy scoffed. “I wasn’t staring.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Roy exhaled sharply. “You’re unbelievable.”
She shrugged. “Not my problem.”
She turned and walked down the street.
Roy followed not because he wanted to, but because he was already heading that way.
Maddy noticed immediately.
She stopped walking. Turned her head and glared. “…Are you following me?”
Roy didn’t break stride. “I’m literally going this way.”
“Change directions.”
Roy shot back. “No.”
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She stared at him for a long moment, then clicked her tongue and kept walking. Roy walked behind her, hands in his pockets, eyes on the road. They didn’t speak for a minute; they just walked at the same pace, the morning crowd flowing around them.
Then Maddy slowed down.
Roy walked past her.
He didn’t look at her when he said it; he just let the words drop casually. “I said for you not to follow me.”
Her eye twitched while her jaw tightened.
She inhaled sharply through her nose.
But she didn’t snap.
She understood exactly what he was doing, and she hated that she understood.
They ended up walking side by side, matching pace without meaning to. The street was busy now as buses rumbling past, people rushing to work, and the smell of bakery bread drifting from a shop nearby.
Maddy flicked ash off her cigarette. “You’re irritating.”
Roy shrugged. “You started it.”
“You stared first.”
“You slapped five grown men in the street.”
“They were annoying.”
“So, am I?”
“Yes.”
Roy smirked. “Good to know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get proud.”
They walked a few more steps before Roy asked, “Where are you even going?”
“Work.”
Roy blinked. “YOU, work?”
She nodded once. “I’m a teacher.”
Roy stopped walking for half a second. “You’re a teacher?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You teach?”
“Yes.”
Roy stared at her. “You?”
She exhaled smoke. “If you say ‘you’ one more time, I’ll slap you too.”
Roy raised his hands. “Alright, alright. I’m just… surprised.”
“Why?”
“You don’t seem like the type.”
“What type?”
“The… patient type.”
She scoffed. “I’m not patient. I’m employed.”
Roy laughed. “Fair enough.”
She glanced at him. “What, you impressed?”
Roy shrugged. “A little.”
She flicked her cigarette away. “Well, I wasn’t trying to impress you, loser.”
Roy snorted. “You’re calling me a loser?”
“Yes.”
Roy didn’t like that; she, out of everyone, was calling him a loser, and so he muttered something under his breath.
She stopped walking.
Roy stopped too.
She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing. “Say that again.”
Roy smirked. “Loser.”
She inhaled sharply. “You’re lucky I don’t feel like hitting you.”
Roy laughed. “Right, as if you can.”
She shrugged. “I can.”
They walked for a while, side by side, neither admitting they were matching pace. The morning crowd thickened as they moved deeper into the city. Cars honked lazily. Buses rumbled past. The smell of bakery bread drifted from a shop on the corner.
Maddy flicked her cigarette away as they approached a tall brick building with iron gates. Children were gathered outside, backpacks slung over their shoulders, coats half‑buttoned, voices buzzing with morning chatter. But none of them were going in.
A massive puddle stretched across the entrance; it was deep, muddy and unavoidable. The kids stood in a hesitant cluster, staring at it like it was a monster guarding the gate.
Maddy stopped walking and muttered under her breath, “I told faculty to fill that ditch last week. Clearly, they didn’t listen.”
Roy looked at the puddle. It wasn’t small. It was the kind of puddle that soaked socks, ruined shoes, and made parents angry. The kids weren’t wrong to hesitate; it looked miserable.
One boy poked the water with a stick. Another girl sighed dramatically. A third kid said, “Miss, I don’t want to go in. My mum will kill me if I get my socks wet or dirtied.”
Maddy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just walk through it.”
The kids stared at her like she’d suggested they swim across the Thames.
Roy scanned the gate. Tall iron bars. Wide enough gaps between the vertical stokes for small feet. Strong enough to hold weight.
He exhaled. “Alright… hold on.”
He stepped forward, slipped off his shoes, and walked straight into the puddle. The cold water soaked his socks instantly, but he didn’t flinch. He grabbed the gate with both hands and pulled it toward him, creating a narrow angle.
The kids stared.
Roy looked back at them. “Put your feet in the gaps. Climb onto the gate.”
The children exchanged looks; they were hesitant and unsure until one brave kid stepped forward and tested the bars with her foot.
It held.
She climbed up, gripping the bars, feet slotted neatly between the stokes. Another kid followed. Then another. Soon a small line of children clung to the gate like tiny climbers scaling a metal mountain.
Roy braced himself. “Alright. Hold tight.”
He pushed the gate backward, slowly, carefully. The metal groaned under the weight of the kids, but it moved. Inch by inch, the gate swung open, carrying the children over the puddle. When the gate reached dry ground, the kids hopped off one by one.
“Thanks, mister!” “Thank you!” "Thanks, sir!” “Weeeee!”
Roy chuckled. “Alright, alright. Go on.”
He closed the gate, walked back through the puddle, and repeated the process for the second group of kids. Then the third. Each time, the gate groaned, the kids climbed, and Roy pushed them to dry land.
Finally, only one person remained on the outside.
Maddy.
She stared at him, cigarette gone, hands in her coat pockets, expression unreadable.
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Are you getting on?”
She didn’t move. “You’re actually going to do that for me?”
Roy shrugged. “You need to get to work.”
She scoffed. “I can walk through a puddle.”
“Then walk.”
She didn’t.
Roy smirked. “Thought so.”
She clicked her tongue. “Just open the gate.”
Roy stepped into the puddle again, grabbed the bars, and pulled the gate toward her. “Get on.”
Maddy hesitated not out of fear, but out of pride. Then she placed her foot between the stokes, testing the metal. It held. She climbed up, gripping the bars with practised ease.
Roy pushed the gate backward, slower this time. The metal groaned again, but it moved. When they reached dry land, Maddy stepped off lightly, landing with a soft thud.
She could have easily just jumped over the puddle with her prana, but she didn’t want to; she got curious and really wanted to try the gate.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said, quietly but clearly, “That was… impressive.”
Roy blinked. “Really?”
She nodded once. “Yeah.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t do it to impress you.”
Her eyebrow lifted out of annoyance. “Oh?” Realising he just copied what she did earlier to him.
“I did it for the kids. They need to get an education.”
Maddy stared at him, not with disdain, not with irritation, but with something else. Something quieter. Something almost thoughtful.
“…Hmph.”
She turned away, walking toward the school doors.
Roy followed, slipping his shoes back on as he walked.
Maddy didn’t look back when she said, “Still a loser.”
Roy smirked. “You’re welcome.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose – not quite a laugh, but close. And for the first time since he met her, Roy saw something new in her expression.
Not annoyance. Not boredom. Not disdain.
Respect. Just hidden and buried deep within her, somewhere at least.
He watched her walk in with the children as he stood by the gate with wet socks.