The playground wasn't much — a faded slide, two squeaky swings, and a patch of grass that turned to mud after it rained. But to neighbourhood kids, it was the unofficial headquarters.
Skie sat on one of the swings, legs half-dragging through the dirt, while Conner kicked a worn-out soccer ball against a fence.
That's when they saw him.
Dylan Jung.
He hovered at the edge of the park like he wasn't sure if he'd taken a wrong turn — stiff, awkward, and clearly debating whether to run or speak. His shirt was tucked in too neatly, his hair combed like his mom still did it, with thick glasses, and he clutched a book like it was a security blanket.
Skie nudged Conner with her foot. "Look who finally escaped the moving boxes."
Conner smirked. "Think he's lost?"
Skie grinned. "Only emotionally."
Dylan inched forward, cleared his throat once, then again.
"Uh, hi." His voice cracked halfway through the greeting. He winced like he wanted to melt into the grass. "I'm... I'm Dylan. Dylan Jung. I just moved in next door. I—I mean, not next to you directly, but, like... the one with the mailbox that leans. That's... ours now." He said with a cracked English accent, like he was trying to impress.
Skie blinked. "Wow. That was a lot of information."
"I think the mailbox part was my favorite," Conner added, arms crossed with a serious grin.
Dylan's ears turned red. "Sorry. I just thought I should, y'know, introduce myself. That's what people do in books, anyway."
"In books?" Skie tilted her head, intrigued.
Dylan nodded, gripping his novel tighter. "I read a lot. Helps with... conversations. Sometimes."
Conner tossed the soccer ball into the air and caught it. "Okay, Book Boy. You any good at kickball?"
Dylan looked down at his too-clean sneakers. "Is that... like dodgeball, but with your feet?"
Skie snorted. "Oh, he's precious."
"I'm just gonna embarrass myself, aren't I?" Dylan muttered.
"Absolutely," Conner said, grinning. "But that's how you earn your stripes."
"Besides," Skie added with a shrug, "we've been looking for a new victim—uh, friend."
Dylan blinked. "Wait... really?"
Skie gave a dramatic sigh and held out her hand. "C'mon, Dylan Jung. Welcome to the chaos."
He hesitated, then took her hand, and something about the grip — nervous, honest — made her smile for real.
And just like that, the trio was born. One awkward handshake at a time.