The bell rang out across the campus, vibrating through the glass walls.
Students flooded the hallways, laughing, shouting, banging lockers.
I kept my head down, weaving through the chaos, clutching my schedule like it was a life jacket.
Unity Academy was supposed to be international.
"Everyone from everywhere," Mom had said, smiling like it was some big gift.
And yeah — there were accents everywhere.
Different languages slipping through the cracks of conversations.
Different uniforms, different traditions stitched together in a messy patchwork.
But there was no one else like me.
Not one.
---
At lunch, I sat with my tray at the edge of the cafeteria, picking at fries that had already gone cold.
Harper plopped down across from me, camera swinging from their neck.
Yuna followed a second later, sliding into the seat without a word.
"You always look like you're about to get hit by a bus," Harper said cheerfully, snapping another picture before I could dodge.
I sighed and dropped the fry back onto my tray.
"Feeling a little out of place, that's all," I said.
Harper leaned in, conspiratorial. "First day nerves?"
"More like... first everything nerves," I muttered. "I'm not like you guys."
Yuna raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I hesitated.
Then I said it.
"I think... I'm the only Canadian here."
The words hung there, heavier than I expected.
---
Harper laughed, but not in a mean way.
"Seriously? No way! There's gotta be more."
I shook my head slowly.
"I asked around this morning. Everyone's either American, British, or from somewhere in Asia. There's a few Australians too... but nobody else from Canada. Nobody even near Saskatchewan."
Harper whistled low.
"Man. Talk about bad odds."
Yuna just shrugged, pulling out her lunch.
"Does it matter?" she asked coolly. "Nationality doesn't mean anything once you're here. You're just another body in a uniform."
Maybe she meant it to be comforting.
It wasn't.
---
I looked around the cafeteria.
The Americans clustered together, trading slang and sports stats.
The British kids laughed in tight little groups, joking fast and sharp.
The Asian students spoke softer, quicker, sometimes switching languages mid-sentence.
And me?
I didn't belong to any of it.
Not really Canadian anymore.
Not really anything.
Just Jerry.
Floating between them all.
Invisible.
---
I stabbed another fry, suddenly tired.
Mom had dragged me here for her job — some big opportunity she couldn't turn down.
"I'm doing this for us," she had said.
"New life, new adventures," she had promised.
But it didn't feel like my life anymore.
It felt like I was a background character in someone else's story.
Maybe that was why I felt that weirdness earlier.
The shimmer, the crack.
Maybe it wasn't just the world breaking around me.
Maybe I was the one breaking first.
---
Harper tossed a packet of ketchup at my head.
"Hey, Earth to Jerry," they said, grinning. "Snap out of it, dude. We've got project work to survive."
Yuna pushed her tray aside and stood up.
"Come on," she said. "Let's get it over with."
I forced myself to stand, legs heavy.
One step at a time.
One crack at a time.
Pretend like everything's normal.
Pretend like I belong.
Because if I didn't...
The fractures wouldn't just stay inside me.
They'd start leaking into everything else.