The alarm clock shrieked in my ears like a bomb going off. Through a crack in the curtains, a sharp beam of morning sunlight pierced the room, landing squarely on my eyelids. Everything turned red behind them.

Groaning, I forced myself awake, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

September 1st, 7:35 a.m.

I set the alarm for 7:30 last night. It must’ve gone off once already and failed to wake me, so this was round two.

The carpet by the door was still damp.

So yeah… last night really wasn’t a dream.

After washing up, I changed into my long-neglected school uniform. Unfortunately, my body had “expanded” a bit lately — the shirt felt too tight, and the pant legs were so narrow I couldn’t fit my casted foot through. I had to settle for a pair of baggy wide-leg pants instead.

Honestly, I could have asked for extended medical leave to recover at home. But I figured there wasn’t much point — it’s just a minor fracture.

More importantly, if I kept lying around at home like this, I was going to turn into a dumpling!

I slung on my shoulder bag and hopped downstairs one-legged, balancing on my left foot. After polishing off the rice porridge Dad left behind, I grabbed my crutches and hobbled out the front door.

First time going out in over two weeks. It felt like I’d just been released from prison. The sky had never looked bluer, and the September sun — still warm, but fading — beamed down like the essence of youth itself. Even the cicadas had stopped their endless screeching. Heck, even that red-haired gorilla at the end of the street looked tolerable today.

And that gorilla was waving at me.

As usual, Zhao Zhao was waiting outside. The colored streaks in his hair had grown out since his last salon trip, so he’d re-dyed them — even redder this time. The guy looked like a literal rooster with that crimson crown of his.

“Morning, Commander! Guess what I brought for you?”

He stepped aside. Propped up against the wall was a foldable wheelchair. With practiced ease, Zhao Zhao snapped it open and patted the seat invitingly.

“C’mon, I’ll wheel you to school.”

It was 7:50 now. Considering I was on crutches and had a busted leg, there really wasn’t time to hobble the whole way.

So I didn’t even hesitate — retracted the crutches and plopped into the seat.

“Not bad. Where’d you get the wheels?”

It even had an adjustable leg rest — perfect for elevating my broken foot. Super convenient.

“My mom brought it back from the hospital when she heard about your leg. Told me to use it to push you to school.”

“Well then, please thank your mom for me.”

I had to admit, this wheelchair was crazy comfy. I leaned back, propped my leg up, pulled out my phone, and let Zhao Zhao do the heavy lifting. Honestly? It felt less like a wheelchair and more like riding a rickshaw.

And Zhao Zhao was my rickshaw driver.

“Comfy?” he asked from behind.

Comfy as hell. Wanna throw in a shoulder massage while you’re at it?”

Zhao Zhao actually gave me a smack — though not on the shoulder. He bonked me right on the head, nearly knocking my glasses off.

“What the hell?!” I glared up at him, only to see that trademark grin — the one he always wore when he was up to no good.

“If you’re that comfy, how about we kick things up a notch?”

Next thing I knew, he was pushing me toward the sloped pedestrian ramp. It had railings on both sides and no steps — just a smooth downhill incline used by bikes and, apparently, reckless teenagers. I’d seen more than one skateboarder wipe out on this thing.

“Hey! Cut it out! My leg’s still busted!”

He ignored me, humming a tune as he buckled the wheelchair restraints around my waist and wrists.

“Hold on, why the hell does this thing have restraints?!”

“Oh, it’s from the psychiatric hospital.”

Wait—Zhao Zhao’s mom works at a mental hospital?!

This was obviously a premeditated murder attempt. He let go — and I instantly felt the momentum take over.

“WAAAAHHH—?!”

I screamed with my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the crash. But after a short jolt forward… the chair stopped.

“…Huh?”

“PFFTHAHAHA! That face! Priceless!” Zhao Zhao burst out laughing and snapped a photo with his phone. “I gotta send this to Haitang.”

So why hadn’t I gone rolling all the way down?

Turns out the wheelchair had a brake lever. It was locked, which kept the back wheels from turning. Zhao Zhao had no intention of letting me crash — just scaring the hell out of me.

I glared at him, trying to calm my poor little traumatized heart.

“You [BLEEP]! Cut it out already!”

What part of this is supposed to be funny?!

Then — click — I heard the brake snap off.

The wheelchair lurched forward.

I twisted around. The lever had popped back into place.

My hands were strapped down. I couldn’t reach it.

Zhao Zhao, still stowing his phone, tried to grab the handle — but missed.

…

Oh crap. This time it’s really happening.

Oh my dear missing mother, why am I stuck with such a moron?!

“GET OUT OF THE WAY—AAHHHHH!!!”

I shot down the slope at terrifying speed, tears and drool flying in the wind. Pedestrians leapt aside left and right, but the bus stop
sign up ahead was not going to move.

A full-speed crash? With my luck? That’d be more than just a fracture. I was basically reenacting a hit-and-run… on myself.

No handsome bartender in sight to sweep the sign away. Nothing to do but clench my teeth, shut my eyes, and pray.

Just as I braced for impact… the wheelchair slowed.

I cracked an eye open.

The bus stop sign stood right in front of me — untouched.

I turned my head.

Someone was gripping the handles.

Two someones.

On the right was Bei Qiaojue, clutching the handle with one hand, her bag in the other… and a freakin’ full baguette hanging from her mouth.

Wild. I’d seen girls run with toast in their mouths — but a whole baguette?

“Thanks, Qiaojue! You saved my life!”

She slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed the baguette, and finally spoke.

“Bonjour! Damn, broken leg and you’re still doing extreme sports? What is this, wheelchair racing?”

Actually… I think that is a Paralympic event.

“Don’t even ask. I got sabotaged…”

The person on the left was Senior Li Jianlian. He looked a bit out of breath, and his usually ghostly-pale face had reddened slightly.

“Thanks, Senior. Seriously.”

He waved a hand, totally unfazed. “No big deal.”

Then coughed up blood.

“Whoa! You okay?!” I wasn’t the only one who panicked — even Bei Qiaojue was startled.

Dude’s health really was awful. Given his part-time maniac situation, I wasn’t surprised. He was probably overworked and underfed.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

That’s… not something you should get used to.

Zhao Zhao finally came running down the slope, clearly sheepish.

“Sorry, Commander! It was an accident! I didn’t know the brake would pop off like that!”

“Spare me your excuses! Prepare to DIE!”

I whipped out my crutch like a club and swung it at him, only for him to catch it barehanded.

“You two, knock it off,” Li Jianlian cut in, glancing at his watch. “We’re gonna be late.”

After the whole near-death experience, Zhao Zhao did calm down a bit. He pushed the wheelchair obediently, no more antics. Li Jianlian walked beside me, occasionally chatting. He mentioned seeing my “little sister” at a bookstore and water park recently.

Both Zhao Zhao and Bei Qiaojue froze at that. The latter blinked — she seemed to get it.

But Zhao Zhao?

Yeah, expecting him to catch on was giving too much credit to his gorilla brain.

“Huh? You have a sister, Commander?”

“It’s Lingmeng-chan! Haven’t you met her, big guy?”

Bei Qiaojue jumped in to help, and Zhao Zhao finally caught on.

“You two really look alike. Way more than any of my siblings.” Li Jianlian then added.

Come to think of it, his life was kind of rough. Seven kids at home, a sick dad, and the mom plus older sister keeping things afloat. He even broke school rules to take part-time jobs, helping out with money and saving up for college.

But his mom apparently didn’t want him going to college.

Tough break.

No doubt about it — Senior Li was unfortunate.

And lucky for me… I haven't had an idea for my September quota yet.

I stared at his scruffy black and white hair, already thinking about how to convince him to become a girl.