"Is that her?" Sara gasped, looking over my shoulder at the purple-haired girl tailing a few steps behind me since we got out of mum's car. Long gone were the days that I'd walk to school, obviously.

She looked out of place amongst the masses of brown, black, and blonde hair. While a few other students did dye their hair, most didn't go for bold colours like Lexi. Moreover, the purple really clashed with the jade and navy uniform, almost making her look like Barney from that archaic kids show in the 90s. Or Buzz Lightyear... from those really old Pixar films Jojo subjected us to as kids.

Heaving a sigh, I said, "Yes." Then I came to a stop. "The admin office is that way," I begrudgingly told my sister.

"Thanks, Cal," Lexi quietly said, not meeting my eyes. We had been doing this the whole week since she got home. Back to the curt exchanges again.

"We will wait for you here, Lexi!" Sara called out to her as she retreated. 

Lexi came to a pause as she glanced over her shoulder at Sara in the wake of her call. She cocked an eyebrow at my best friend before facing forward once more, continuing her trek to the office.

"We are not seriously waiting for her?" I deadpanned at my bestie.

Sara blinked at me, before saying, "Of course we are. It's not like anyone else is going to show her around. She only ever went to the primary school across the road."

"She can find her own way around," I grumbled.

"My gosh. You really know how to hold a grudge, Cal. I've never seen this side of you."

I responded childishly by crossing my arms over my chest and looking away from Sara. 

If Sara had worn makeup like the rest of the girls and chose to forego her bulky glasses, she'd fit right in with the popular girls crowd—or she'd at least have a trail of boys behind her. She had long midnight hair, beautiful olive skin, large deep brown eyes, and a breath-taking smile. If I didn't know any better about her parents' expectations, a part of me would wonder if she never tried with her appearance for my sake. But her grades were way too important to care about what the boys thought.

Lexi rejoined us not much later, school timetable and diary now in hand. And while I refused to acknowledge both of them—my big moment of finally 'walking' to class now overshadowed by my stupid sister—they both started comparing timetables.

It seemed we all shared the same history class, though Lexi had a different English class to Sara and I, while Sara and Lexi had the same maths. But adding to that, Sara and Lexi were both in Film, TV together.

And so we trudged off to our first class of the day—homeroom. Which were all in. On the way, people stopped and turned, evidently looking at Lexi in all her newness, beauty, and purpleness, while I washed into the backdrop of the school grounds.

After homeroom, the three of us forwarded off to history and, to my dismay, Sara invited Lexi to sit with us in that class. When our teacher arrived and we all headed in, it didn't take long for our peers to crowd around us, gawking at Lexi, catching up with the cool girl they remembered from primary school—the shiny new toy.

Our teacher was the only one to notice I was now more mobile—probably because she had received an email from the school about it prior to class. As everyone poked and prodded Lexi—Sara's eyes wide that our table received more attention than ever—Miss Brooks came around to me to ask whether I would need any further provisions or assistance now that I had my prosthetic.

After saying I didn't and trying my best to get her to stop talking to me on the subject, she ordered everyone back to their seats and class began—going over assessment, expectations, and Lexi's embarrassing introduction.

When those seventy minutes came to an end, Lexi began to walk away from us, causing me to sigh.

Turning to Sara, I said, "Go catch up with her so she doesn't get lost."

"That's okay," Sara said, patiently waiting while I shoved my things into my bag. "I'll walk you to—"

I shook my head, cutting her off. "I'm not in my chair anymore. I'm quite mobile now, Sara. I'll be fine. Just a little slow."

"But—"

"Hurry, before you lose her."

Casting me one more wary glance, Sara picked up her bag and began chasing off after my sister, while I closed the zip and heaved another sigh. Then, alone, I walked to maths. After a whole class of being seated with this thing on—and never having really worn it this long in a row before—I felt a little bit of a twinge when I stepped.

Did I not put my socket on correctly? I wondered. Or is my stump a little too swollen today? Or am I just not used to wearing it this long...

Taking a few stops on my way to calm the pain, I was late by the time I arrived. The three minutes they gave us to walk just simply wasn't enough for me yet. It took me at least double that to get to maths, and then even a little longer to slot my bag onto one of the lower port rack shelves and get out my equipment.

As I pushed the door open to class—everyone already seated inside—Miss Fischer paused in her speech, turning to look at me, face marred in anger. But the moment she saw it was me, her eyes trailed down to my prosthetic before going back to my face. Then her gaze softened.

"Quickly sit down, Callie," she said.

So I shuffled in, taking one of the free seats left up the front and began setting up my books while Miss Fischer turned back to her computer screen, trying to get her bearing on where she was at in her spiel.

Yet before she could instruct the class further, a peeved off voice a few seats behind me called out, "Oh what! How come she doesn't get in trouble for being late?"

"Flynn, you know my rules about calling out in class," Miss Fischer warned, her brown eyes glaring at him.

Craning my neck, I looked at Flynn, alongside everyone else.

"I do," he replied, brows furrowing as he flicked his umber locks from his eyes. He was in desperate need of a haircut, but, at the same time, the grown-out look made him seem more youthful, more boyish. "But I also know your rule is that anyone who is late has to make up double that time for detention. Do you know how many of my lunch breaks you took last year?"

"Flynn, that's—"

"No. This is bullshit. You just pick on me because I'm black, don't you?" 

"Flynn! I do not—"

But I cut off their squabble. "It's got nothing to do with you, Flynn, and everything to do with me," I said to him. As expected, everyone's eyes turned to me, then looked down at my leg before I clearly stated to him, "She cut me slack because I only have one leg."

I felt a little strange saying it so loudly to my class. I didn't really speak about it to many other than Sara, so not only admitting my disability so blatantly to another peer, but also calling it out for the class to hear... it felt strange. But I also was a girl who walked to class now. Not hobbled on crutches. Not wheeled my chair. Despite Lexi's presence today bringing me down, I still had more confidence in myself now that I could walk than I ever did before. And it was exhilarating.

Flynn's chocolate eyes met mine across the room before he finally looked me up and down. "Looks like you have two legs to me," he said, then gave me one of his notoriously cocky grins.

Shaking my head, I turned back to Miss Fischer. "I'm sorry I was late Miss. I'd say I won't do it again, but my class was on the other side of the school grounds and I did walk as fast as I can. But if it upsets Flynn, I'll stay back."

"Oh, what?" Flynn said again, calling my attention back to him. "No, it's fine. I was just kidding. I'm not that upset, Miss, don't keep her in." He flashed his pearly whites at me once more before looking back at Miss Fischer, no guilt, as per usual, in his eyes for stirring trouble. But that's what Flynn was known for. "Now what were you saying about integers, Miss?"

It seemed after their maths class together, Sara took it upon herself to invite Lexi to sit with us at lunch too. While I was okay with them walking to class together, I didn't want Lexi hanging out with us to become a thing.

"Seriously?" I remarked as I walked over to them, food in hand. If I had noticed her sooner, I would have turned and gone the other way. But thanks to the leg, I had a habit of only looking at the immediate ground in front of me—too wary I might trip on something.

"You're being awfully rude," Sara responded, brows furrowing together. "I don't like this side of you, Cal."

I rolled my eyes in response and fell to my seat next to her, flicking the lever on my prosthetic to release the pressure of the suction system as I sat. I wanted to do this in class, but I was too wary of people looking at me for touching it—so I put up with the suction. Though I think that was my problem earlier.

As I looked up at the girls who were now silent, I noticed them staring at my leg. "What?" I asked.

"What did you just do?" Sara asked.

Sighing, I remembered she didn't have a complete understanding yet of my prosthetic. So I explained how the suction worked and pressure pain and all that. Both girls nodded throughout before finally turning back to their food and conversation, now unphased by my leg.

As I picked at my food, feeling left out in their squabble, I glanced around at the other kids mulling about the area. Some Year 7s sat under the tree in the courtyard. Others played handball in the undercover area. And at the table on the other side of the science block—the one we weren't at—sat Flynn and his mob*.

I always thought of this part of the school as the 'minority corner'. Sara and I (the Asian and disabled) took one small part. Another kid a couple of years younger with cerebral palsy sat with his friends on the grass nearby—him in his chair, of course. While Flynn, his cousins, and close friends—the Aboriginal kids—claimed the other table. The further you looked out across the school towards the more secluded seating areas, away from teachers' eyes, the more white and abled everyone got—they took all the best spots.

Heaving a sigh, I casted my eyes over his group again, slightly amused that so many were present for the first day back. While Flynn's group rarely ever caused strife amongst peers—being generally friendly to everyone, though never going out of their way to mingle with us outside of class—they were notorious for skipping school. Yet over the past year, Flynn made a much stronger effort to show up, mostly because his graduation certificate was at risk if he didn't—or so I overheard Miss Fischer warn him after class once last year as I packed my things back into my bag, the open door making me privy to their conversation. But being on time to class was a whole other hurdle he was still dealing with.

As I got lost on my thoughts, one of the younger kids glanced my way, turning back to his group to say something. Next I knew, everyone turned to stare at me—including Flynn. Locking eyes, he shot me an ear-to-ear smile and waved. Feeling the heat overcome my face, I immediately averted my gaze, trying my best to pretend I had merely glimpsed at them and was totally not staring.

But as I tried to listen to what Sara and Lexi were talking about—something about film auteurs, which totally wasn't something I was familiar with—a cheery voice saying, "Hey Callie," had my head whipping around immediately.

Flynn now stood a step behind me, grinning down at me where I sat on the bench. My mouth fell open while Lexi and Sara paused in their conversation, turning to look at him. Sara suddenly let out a cough, which quickly turned into a fit. Lexi patted her on the back a couple of times, handing her the water bottle.

"H-hi," I muttered, anxiously meeting his eyes. He never approached anyone at lunch time.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for trying to get you detention. I didn't think about..." He glanced down at my leg then back to my eyes, face turning down slightly with guilt, though that familiar friendliness still lingered in the crevices.

"It's okay. It was fair," I said back.

His brows furrowed momentarily as he cocked his head to the side, eyes searching my face, before a grin broke out again. "Fair because you actually were wagging**? Callie, you're more naughty than I—"

"No, no. Not wagging. I just take a while to walk because..." But my confidence from class was gone as I glanced down at my leg, his gaze immediately following mine.

But this time Sara cut us off. "You were late?"

Glancing at her, I shrugged in response.

"Shit, Cal, I'm sorry. I should have gone with you—"

"That would have been stupid," I said to her, all the while Lexi's eyes darted between all three of us, evidently out of the loop about why Sara and I were confused about Flynn talking to me or me being late to class. "You walking with me wouldn't have made me able to move any faster."

"Yeah, but then Miss Fischer wouldn't have—"

This time Flynn cut her off. "Oh, no... she didn't get in trouble. I, um," he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I tried getting her in trouble. I didn't realise it would take you longer to walk, Callie. I'm sorry again."

"It's okay, Flynn, really," I said, turning back to look at him. I shot him a smile for good measure, which he immediately returned with his boyish grin.

"Great. Well, see you in class then." And with that, he just walked away. Back to his table. As though talking to me, Callie, the girl with one leg, was a normal thing to do.

"Since when do you and Flynn talk?" Sara whispered behind me, calling my attention back to her.

"Is that weird?" Lexi intruded, obviously wanting context now.

"Super weird. Not that Flynn doesn't talk to people, but Callie never talks to anyone."

Shaking my head, I said, "He tried to get me detention because he always gets them for being late."

But when they still cocked their heads at me, I reiterated what happened in class.

"You..." Sara started, pausing to furrow her brows. "You actually mentioned the leg in front of everyone?"

"Yup," I said, popping on the 'p', still in disbelief myself.

"Oh my gosh." Next I knew, Sara's arms were around me, pulling me close. "I'm so proud of you."

"Why are we proud?" Lexi asked, causing Sara to move back from me and look at her once more.

"Callie never talks to anyone about her disability."

Lexi pressed her lips together before glancing at me. "Kind of hard to talk to anyone about it if she never talks to anyone. You should open up more, Cal. I mean, look what happens." She waved a hand over at Flynn. "He had nothing but smiles for you."

To be fair, Flynn's comment about me 'looking like I have two legs' was something I hadn't expected. Back when I lost my leg and returned to school, the kids made snide comments and rude remarks behind my back in class, which had me retreating into my shell over the years. When puberty hit and the jeers got meaner, I stopped trying. 

But I suppose we all had grown up a bit more... 

Nonetheless, I hated that this suggestion came from Lexi. Because she didn't know me or them. 

So I said, "What would you know?" Then I turned back to my food, ignoring her for the rest of lunch.

If you've read 31 Days of Christmas and recognise the surname 'Fischer'... yes. It is who you think. 

I'm on a roll with this story right now and am finding it somewhat easy to write. So I'm going to say 'Sunday uploads AEST' for now. Hopefully I can write some in advance so I can upload once school term starts (I will be starting my career as a teacher. Wish me luck!), but I don't know how much time I will have during the term, so uploads may become infrequent again if not. I'll keep you updated!

Also, as you know, my stories are set in Australia and I use a lot of slang. Let me know if you want me to make a glossary at the start of this book, but two key words in here that probably need context (let me know if there are others that aren't clear). I put an asterisk next to them in-text so that you know to come down here!

*Mob: Not to be confused with the usual definition. 'Mob' is a word used by Aboriginal communities simply to refer to their family or community members as a collective. 'My mob' is like saying 'my people' or 'my community'. It in no way implies violence or disorder like the other use does.

** wagging: not sure if you use this in other countries, but it means to ditch school or to truant.