Two years earlier, the only thing that ever truly calibrated at the orphanage was disappointment.
The building had rules. Schedules. Charts taped to walls with fading ink and crooked corners. Wake-up times. Meal rotations. Cleaning duty grids. They called it structure, but nothing in the place ever adjusted to you. You adjusted to it...or you broke quietly and learned not to show it.
Caelum preferred the courtyard.
It was one of the few places where the sun reached the ground without permission. Late afternoon warmth soaked into the cracked concrete near the wall, and he liked sitting there, back pressed against the bricks, legs stretched out in front of him like they belonged to someone else. From this angle, he could see a strip of sky between the roofs...just enough blue to pretend it was bigger.
"Move it, Sky Boy!"
The pebble struck his shin and bounced away.
Caelum flinched, more from surprise than pain. He looked down automatically, like he always did, checking whether his legs had betrayed him again. They hadn't moved. They never did.
A group of kids stood in front of him, blocking the sun.
Rax was in the middle.
Arms crossed. Chin tilted up. Grinning like he owned the air and everyone breathing it.
Caelum lifted his gaze slowly. "Can you not?"
Rax leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Can you not what?" he asked, voice dripping with mock interest. "Not sit there like a decoration?"
"I'm reading," Caelum said, holding up the book.
The cover was creased, pages yellowed and soft from rereading. He'd found it in a donation box months ago...something about flight paths and old aircraft, diagrams printed in faded ink. It smelled like dust and oil and possibility.
Rax squinted at it. "That's upside down."
Caelum glanced down.
It wasn't.
He smiled anyway. A small thing. Controlled. "Then maybe you're upside down."
A few kids laughed.
Not loudly. Not bravely.
But enough.
Rax's grin sharpened. The easy humor slipped into something edged and ugly.
"Ohhh," he said slowly. "Sky Boy thinks he's funny."
Caelum's smile faded. "Don't call me that."
"But your name is Caelum," a girl said from the side. She dragged out the syllables, like she'd practiced saying it wrong on purpose. "Cae-lum. Doesn't it mean… sky?"
Caelum didn't answer.
He didn't have to. Everyone already knew. They'd heard the caretaker explain it once, smiling like it was charming instead of cruel irony.
Rax threw his arms wide and tilted his head back dramatically.
"Sky!" he shouted toward the clouds. "Come down and save him!"
Laughter exploded around them.
Then Rax's gaze dropped...to Caelum's legs.
"Wait," he said, eyes lighting up. "How's Sky Boy gonna fly if he can't even stand?"
A boy behind him snickered. "Maybe he'll roll into the sky."
Caelum's stomach tightened. His fingers dug into the book's spine.
Rax crouched down until his face was level with Caelum's. Close enough that Caelum could smell cafeteria stew and cheap juice on his breath.
"Your parents must've been stupid," Rax said softly, like a secret meant to hurt more. "Naming you sky when you can't even walk."
Caelum's eyes flicked down.
He didn't know his parents.
That didn't stop the words from stabbing straight through him.
Rax continued, enjoying himself. "They should've named you something else."
He snapped his fingers, a performer searching for the right punchline.
"Like… Paralum."
The kids laughed.
Rax frowned. "No, wait. What's that big word? The doctor word?"
"Paraplegic!" the girl said proudly, like she'd earned points.
Rax's face lit up. "Yes! That!"
He pointed at Caelum, triumphant. "They should've named you Parry. Or...or..."
"Disabled," the boy behind him repeated, giggling like it was genius.
Heat rushed to Caelum's face.
He hated how easily they said that word.
He hated that grown-ups said it the same way...quiet, careful, final.
He hated that his legs lay there, unmoving, silent traitors that never defended him.
He tried to move his toes.
Nothing.
Rax noticed.
His grin widened.
"Aww," he cooed. "Is Sky Boy trying to fly again?"
"Leave me alone," Caelum said, voice low.
Rax's smile vanished.
He grabbed the book and yanked it away. "Make me."
Caelum reacted without thinking. He reached up fast and tore the book back from Rax's hands.
Rax blinked.
For just a moment, surprise cracked his expression.
Because Caelum's arms were strong. Strong from pushing himself everywhere. From hauling his own weight. Stronger than people expected, because they thought paralyzed meant weak everywhere.
Rax recovered quickly, embarrassed.
"Ohhh, look at him," he said louder. "Sky Boy's got hands. Maybe his legs are just lazy."
"They're not lazy," Caelum snapped.
Rax leaned in. "Then prove it."
The courtyard went quiet.
Not empty...watching.
Caelum stared down at his legs.
He could feel them.
Every inch.
They just wouldn't listen.
His jaw tightened. He grabbed his knee with both hands and shook it, like fear or force might wake it up.
"Come on," he muttered. "Move."
Someone laughed.
"Talk nicer," another kid mocked. "Maybe his legs have feelings!"
His eyes burned. He squeezed his thigh hard enough to leave crescent marks.
"Move," he hissed. "Move, stupid leg. Please."
Rax stood, satisfied. "See? Even his legs don't like him."
Caelum looked up.
His voice shook, but it didn't break. "I'm going to be a pilot."
The laughter came back...louder, crueler.
Rax wiped his eyes. "A pilot? You?"
"Yes," Caelum said, stubborn as gravity.
"With what?" Rax asked. "A wheelchair spaceship?"
Caelum's hands trembled, but his eyes were bright.
"I know there are other planets," he said. "Different gravity. Different rules. I dream about it."
Rax leaned toward the others. "He dreams."
Mocking oohs rippled through the group.
Caelum smiled again.
Small. Bright. Furious.
"Laugh all you want," he said. "One day I'll leave this place."
Rax's face twisted. "No you won't."
He kicked dust toward Caelum's feet and walked away, bored now. The others followed.
Caelum stayed.
Breathing hard. Holding his book like it was the last piece of himself that belonged to him.
When the courtyard finally emptied, he tilted his head back and whispered to the strip of blue overhead:
"Name me whatever you want."
His fingers tightened on his knee.
"But I'm not staying on the ground forever."