Green Jumper
Wilfred, short, with a shaved head that made him look tougher than he was - had been patting his rucksack like it might produce his missing jumper out of thin air.
"It was there this morning," he murmured. "I'm sure. The green one."
"You mean the only one you own?" Spotty said dryly.
That green jumper had been part of Wilfred's uniform back in primary school—oversized, bobbled, always slightly too warm for whatever weather they were in. sleeves swallowed halfway down his hands. A bit moth-bitten. Forest green, but faded in places like it had lived too many lives. Which it had.
They were outside the science block. Cold wind. Early bell. Students clustered in loose packs, waiting for the next thing to begin.
Danny came out last, rucksack slung over one shoulder. He had the green jumper in one hand, swinging casually at his side like it meant nothing. "Found it in the locker room," he said.
Wilfred quickly grabbed the jumper and pulled the jumper over his head slowly, like a ritual. The sleeves were too long, the cuffs frayed. But once it was on, his shoulders dropped a little. He tugged the sleeves down to his hands and let out a relaxed sigh. He felt normal again.