By recess, the air had changed.
It wasn't loud—but it didn't have to be. Whispers moved like a current beneath the surface of school life, passed from mouth to ear in the spaces between periods and over half-eaten lunch trays.
"Adam's planning something."
"He's going to 'teach Liam a lesson.'"
"Gym class. Today."
Liam heard it too—though no one told him directly. He caught it in half-muttered warnings, sideways glances, the way students shifted when he entered a room. Even Mr. Peterson seemed to catch the tone of the day. He passed a knot of students in the hallway who went silent too quickly. His gaze lingered. He didn't say a word, but something in his jaw tensed.
Liam sat quietly in the library during lunch, trying to focus on chemistry notes. But nothing stuck. The pages blurred.
He knew what was coming.
"I think you should tell a teacher," Ryan said softly, eyes scanning the room. "Tell Mr. Peterson, at least."
Liam shook his head. "It'll only make things worse. Adam'll twist it around. He always does."
"We could go with you," offered Theo, though his voice lacked conviction.
"To gym?" Anika scoffed, arms crossed. "We don't even have gym today. We can't just barge into the boys' locker room."
"Then after school," Theo said quickly. "We meet him right after class. Walk home together."
"I—I don't know…" Liam muttered.
Ryan looked nervous too. "You're not the only one they pick on, man. We're all targets. But they focus on you now because of Mr. Peterson."
"Yeah," said Theo, "you embarrassed them. That's dangerous."
Anika leaned in, voice steady. "So what? We just do nothing?"
There was silence around the table. The four of them—Liam, Ryan, Theo, Anika—were used to being invisible. The Study Group. The ones who helped each other through exams and late-night projects and whispered breakdowns over grades and college applications. They came from modest homes. They lived with pressure and dreams. But physical threats? That was another kind of war.
The library bell rang. Gym was next.
Liam's stomach sank.
The locker room was its usual mix of mildew, shouting, and slamming doors. Liam changed as quickly as he could, avoiding eye contact, trying to disappear. But he could feel it—before it happened.
A sharp shove from behind slammed him into the lockers. The clang echoed. Conversation died.
Adam stood there, cool and composed, like he was posing for a movie still. Oliver smirked nearby. Jeremy leaned on the bench like he owned the place.
"You think you can hide behind some new teacher, huh?" Adam said, voice low but clear. "Think that's gonna keep you safe?"
Liam said nothing. He knew better than to talk back.
Adam stepped closer, staring him down. "This school has a system. You don't get to break it because some war vet likes you."
Jeremy chuckled. "Maybe Liam's trying to get extra credit for bravery."
Laughter from a few boys in the back. Liam scanned the room—no sign of the coach yet.
"You don't belong here," Adam continued. "People like you? You're just background noise."
Liam's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move. He couldn't afford to.
Finally, the shrill sound of a whistle echoed from the gym doors. The coach barked something about warm-ups. The moment snapped.
Adam leaned in close, whispered, "This isn't over," and backed off, like nothing had happened.
Liam stood there, heart racing.
Outside, near the gym's back entrance, Theo, Anika, and Ryan waited anxiously.
When Liam finally emerged after class—sweaty, shaken—they fell into step beside him without a word.
"We're walking you home," Ryan said, voice quiet.
Liam didn't argue.
He just nodded.
And for now, that was enough.