"Remi! Did you grab your allowance for lunch?"

Remi paused at the front door, backpack half-slung over his shoulder. His mother, Melinda Halistaad, hurried from the kitchen, a few crumpled bills in hand. Despite the early hour, she was already dressed for her day at the office, though her usually pristine appearance was slightly disheveled from the morning rush.

"Mom, I've got money on my account," Remi said, noticing the slight tremor in her hands—too much coffee again, probably from another late night of work. "You don't need to—"

"Just take it," she insisted, pressing the money into his palm. "In case you want something extra. Those portions in the cafeteria are never enough for growing boys."

"Mom..." Remi gently pulled away from her fussing. "I'm fine. Besides, you'll be late for your meeting."

"I know, I know." She absently smoothed his collar. "But you barely touched your dinner last night. Are you sure everything's okay at school? You seem... I don't know. Different lately."

"Everything's fine," Remi said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just tired from staying up late playing D&D with Andrew."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! The quarterly review—" She glanced at her watch and grimaced. "We'll talk more later, okay? But text me when you get to school."

"Promise," Remi called over his shoulder, already heading down the front steps. His mother's worried gaze followed him until he turned the corner, and he could picture her standing in the doorway, probably still fidgeting with her coffee mug.

The walk to school was quiet, fallen leaves crunching under his feet as he made his way down the familiar streets. The air had that crisp October feel, hinting at the winter to come. By the time he reached his locker, Andrew was already waiting, practically bouncing with excitement to share details from last week's D&D session. He'd been going on about it for days, analyzing every roll and decision like it was a professional sports replay.

"You're not going to believe what I just figured out," Andrew burst out before Remi could even open his locker. "Remember when my paladin used divine smite on that demon lord?"

"Only because you've mentioned it about fifty times," Remi said, working his combination lock.

"Yeah, but listen—if I'd used my action surge first, I could have—"

"Gotten two attacks instead of one," Remi finished with him, managing a small smile. "And with the critical hit chance doubled—"

"I could have taken him out in one round!" Andrew's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "I mean, who expects the celestial unicorn to show up right when—"

A sudden force slammed into Remi's shoulder from behind, driving him hard against the metal lockers. The impact rattled the doors and knocked the breath from his lungs. Shawn Baker's laughter echoed down the hallway, joined by his friend James Prescott's quieter but equally malicious chuckle.

"Nice reflexes, Halistaad," Shawn called out. "Almost as good as your lacrosse tryout."

The morning crowd of students parted around them like water around rocks, carefully averting their eyes from the unfolding scene.

"You okay?" Andrew whispered, helping Remi steady himself.

"Watch where you're going, Halistaad," Shawn sneered, towering over Remi with the easy confidence of someone who had never faced consequences for his actions. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt... again."

James stepped forward, his lacrosse letterman jacket a sharp contrast to Remi's worn hoodie. A smirk played across his features. "Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of what happened at tryouts, would we?"

"You know what's funny, James?" Shawn said, his voice carrying down the hall. "He actually thought he had a shot at making the team. Like Coach Stevens would want some nobody screwing up our championship lineup."

The memory hit Remi like a physical blow. Three weeks ago, on the lacrosse field, running the drills until his lungs burned. He'd outperformed half the returning players, even managed to score past their senior goalkeeper.

"Nice shot, Halistaad!" Coach Stevens had called out, before adding with a smirk, "But let's see how you handle some real defense. Shawn, James – show him what varsity-level checking feels like."

Then came the "special drill" - Shawn and James taking turns as defenders, checking him with increasingly brutal force while Coach Stevens just watched, arms crossed, that same amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Keep your stick up, Halistaad!" Shawn had taunted between hits. "What's wrong? Too rough for you?"

The last hit had sent Remi sprawling, his stick clattering across the turf. He could still hear the laughter, still feel the wet grass against his face as he pushed himself up.

"Sorry, Halistaad," Coach Stevens had drawled, not sounding sorry at all. "But we need players who can take a hit. Maybe try chess club?"

"What's wrong, Remi?" Shawn's voice pulled him back to the present. "Still sore about it? Maybe if you weren't such a pussy—"

"Shut up." The words escaped before Remi could stop them, surprising even himself.

Shawn's eyebrows shot up, then lowered dangerously. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said shut up." Remi's heart hammered in his chest, but something in him had snapped. "We both know I made those shots. We both know why I didn't make the team."

"Remi," Andrew warned quietly. "Don't."

James stepped closer, his shoulder brushing Shawn's. "Careful, Halistaad. You're starting to sound like you're accusing someone of something."

"Why not?" The words kept coming, like a dam breaking. "Everyone saw it. Everyone knows your dad's golf buddies run this school. Must be nice, having everything handed to you—"

Shawn moved faster than Remi expected, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and slamming him back against the lockers. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, his already bruised shoulder screaming in protest. Around them, the hallway had gone deadly quiet, other students stopping to watch but keeping their distance, like vultures circling a kill.

"Listen carefully, you little shit," Shawn's voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes burned with rage. "My father earned everything he has. I earned my spot on that team. The only thing you've earned is this reality check about where you belong in the food chain."

Andrew, seeing the hurt and anger in his friend's eyes, stepped forward. His voice shook slightly, but he held his ground. "Let him go, Shawn. You've made your point."

"Back off, nerd," James warned, moving to intercept Andrew. "This isn't about you."

"Actually, it kind of is," Andrew's words tumbled out faster now, pitched higher with adrenaline. "It's about all of us who have to deal with entitled jerks like you. It's not Remi's fault that your dad's golf buddy is the coach."

Shawn's grip on Remi's hoodie tightened. "Watch your mouth, nerd. Or do you want to end up like your loser friend here?"

The tension stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Remi could feel Shawn's knuckles digging into his chest, could smell the mint gum on his breath. One wrong move, one wrong word, and this would escalate beyond the usual posturing into something much worse.

"Is there a problem here?" Mr. Phillips's voice cut through the tension like a knife. The chemistry teacher stood at the end of the hallway, his expression making it clear he knew exactly what kind of problem this was.

Shawn held Remi's gaze for one more second before releasing him with a casual shove. "No problem, sir," he said, his voice dripping with insincere politeness. "Just having a friendly chat with Halistaad here about sports."

"Well, chat time's over," Mr. Phillips said. "Get to class, all of you."

As they turned away, James leaned in close to Remi's ear. "This isn't over, Halistaad. You want to run your mouth? Fine. But remember - you'll never be good enough. Never."

The bell rang again, warning stragglers to hurry to class. Remi and Andrew walked in silence until they were well clear of the lockers, turning down the science wing where the crowds were thinner.

"You know they're going to make you pay for that," Andrew said finally, his voice low. "Shawn doesn't let stuff go."

Remi leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was fading, his hands wouldn't stop trembling. "Yeah, well, maybe it's worth it. I'm tired of pretending they're not complete assholes."

"Did you really score on their goalkeeper?" Andrew asked, adjusting his backpack. "During tryouts?"

"Twice." Remi touched his shoulder gingerly. "Fat lot of good it did me."

"Man, that's messed up." Andrew glanced back the way they'd come. "You should report them or something. What they did during tryouts—that wasn't normal checking. That was assault."

Remi gave a bitter laugh. "Report them to who? Coach Stevens? The principal? Shawn's dad probably has them on speed dial." He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, not caring about being late to class. "You know what the worst part is? My mom keeps asking what's wrong, why I'm not eating, why I seem 'different.' But I can't tell her. She'd try to fix it, and that would just make everything worse."

Andrew sat down next to him, their shoulders touching. "Remember in D&D last week, when my paladin was surrounded by those demon cultists?"

"Really? You're bringing up D&D now?"

"Just... hear me out. Remember what you told me? About how sometimes the best move isn't fighting or running, but finding another way to change the game?"

Remi turned to look at his friend. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know exactly," Andrew admitted. "But there's got to be something. Some way to beat them at their own game, or maybe a different game entirely." He pulled his battered notebook from his backpack and flipped it open to reveal a rough sketch of Shawn being trampled by a celestial unicorn. "For now, though, we can at least imagine them getting what they deserve."

Despite everything, Remi felt a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did you seriously draw that during Benson's history lecture?"

"Hey, it was either this or actually pay attention to the Civil War unit." Andrew grinned, then grew serious again. "We'll figure something out, Remi. They can't win forever."

The final bell rang, marking them officially late for class. But for a moment longer, they sat there in the empty hallway, looking at Andrew's ridiculous drawing and letting themselves believe that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

The first two periods passed in a blur of nervous tension. Every time the bell rang, Remi found himself scanning the hallways, expecting Shawn or one of his cronies to appear. By the time third period arrived, his nerves were frayed.

When they finally made it to AP Calculus, slipping into their seats under Mrs. Caldwin's disapproving stare, Remi noticed Eddie Enfield watching him with predatory interest. The stocky athlete didn't share Shawn's fluid grace, but he made up for it with sheer muscle and a nasty streak that manifested in moments like these.

Third period usually dragged, but today it felt like time had stopped entirely. Mrs. Caldwin's voice droned on about derivatives, her dry explanations punctuated by the rhythmic squeak of her marker against the whiteboard. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, creating a soporific effect that made Remi's eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute.

He shifted in his seat, trying to stay alert, but the movement sent a dull throb through his shoulder where Shawn had checked him. The pain should have kept him awake, but instead it just added to his exhaustion. The numbers on the board began to blur together, Mrs. Caldwin's neat handwriting morphing into meaningless squiggles.

"...and so if we take the limit as x approaches infinity..."

Remi's head nodded forward, then jerked back up. He blinked hard, trying to focus on his notebook where he'd managed to scrawl half an equation before his notes devolved into unconscious scribbles. The bruise would fade, but the memory would linger, joining all the others that made up his daily life at school.

"Mr. Halistaad?" Mrs. Caldwin's voice cut through his fog. "Perhaps you'd like to solve this problem for the class?"

Remi straightened in his chair, his cheeks burning as several students turned to look at him. The equation on the board swam before his eyes, mocking him. From two rows over, Eddie Enfield's distinctive grunt-laugh broke the silence.

"I... uh..." He squinted at the board, trying to make sense of the symbols that seemed to dance and shift before him.

Mrs. Caldwin sighed, that particular sigh teachers reserve for students they've given up on. "Pay attention, Mr. Halistaad. This will be on the test." She turned back to the board, already moving on to the next example.

Remi slumped in his seat, his shoulder throbbing in time with his embarrassment. He could feel Eddie's eyes on him, probably mentally taking notes to report back to Shawn later. Even when the ringleader wasn't around, his influence spread through his network of toadies and hangers-on, each eager to prove their loyalty through someone else's humiliation.

By lunch period, the morning's confrontation had already become just another story in the school's gossip mill. Remi could feel the occasional glances from other students as he made his way through the cafeteria line, but he kept his eyes forward, focused on getting through another day. Another hour. Another minute.

Remi sat alone at his usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria, picking at the dubious mystery meat on his tray. The sound of Shawn's laughter carried across the room from the athletes' table, where the lacrosse team held court like medieval nobles. He tried to focus on his food, but his mother's words from that morning kept echoing in his head: "You seem... different lately."

The cafeteria doors swung open, and Tawnee from his chemistry class walked in with a group of friends. She caught his eye for a moment and gave a small wave before being swept along to another table. Remi managed a weak wave back, his face warming slightly. They'd been lab partners last semester, and she'd always been nice to him—one of the few people who seemed immune to the social hierarchy that ruled their school.

"Mind if I sit?" Andrew appeared with his brown paper lunch bag, not waiting for an answer before dropping into the seat across from Remi. He pulled out a slightly squashed sandwich and began unwrapping it with methodical precision. "So I've been thinking about what happened this morning."

"Can we not?" Remi pushed his tray away, his appetite completely gone now. "I'd rather just forget about it."

"No, listen," Andrew leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What if we—"

He was cut off by a commotion near the lunch line. Eddie Enfield had cornered a freshman, making a show of "accidentally" knocking the younger student's tray to the ground. The cafeteria monitors were conveniently looking the other way, as they always did when certain students were involved.

"Oops," Eddie's voice carried across the room. "Better watch where you're going, little man."

Remi's hands clenched into fists under the table. The freshman—he thought the kid's name might be Mark—scrambled to clean up the mess while Eddie stood over him, grinning. From the athletes' table, Shawn and James watched with obvious amusement.

"Don't," Andrew warned, seeing the look in Remi's eyes. "It's not worth it."

"It's never worth it, right?" Remi's voice came out bitter. "Just keep your head down, don't make waves, let them do whatever they want..."

"That's not what I meant." Andrew sighed, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "But getting yourself suspended isn't going to help anyone."

Before Remi could respond, the bell signaled the end of lunch period. Students began filing out of the cafeteria, carefully stepping around Mark, who was still trying to clean up his spilled lunch. As Remi walked past, he pulled a few dollars from his pocket—the money his mother had insisted he take that morning—and dropped them on the floor next to the younger student.

"For the lunch," he muttered, not making eye contact. He hurried away before Mark could respond, but not before catching the grateful look in the freshman's eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, each hour dragging until finally the dismissal bell rang. Remi gathered his things quickly, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. But as he headed for his locker, he spotted Eddie Enfield waiting near the exit, clearly watching for someone. Their eyes met briefly, and Eddie's face split into a predatory grin.

Not today. Remi turned sharply, taking the long way around through the science wing. It would mean a detour on his walk home, but right now, that seemed like a small price to pay.

As he finally stepped out into the autumn afternoon, leaves crunching under his feet, Remi couldn't shake the feeling that something had to change. He couldn't keep living like this, walking on eggshells in his own school, dreading each day before it even began.

His phone buzzed—a text from his mom asking if he was on his way home. He typed out a quick "yes" before pocketing the phone again. She would want to talk when he got home, would ask about his day, would try to figure out what was wrong. And he would lie, like always, because the truth would only worry her more.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk as Remi walked, his breath visible in the cooling air. The familiar route home felt longer than usual, each step carrying the weight of the day's events. He'd stood up to Shawn, finally said what everyone knew but no one dared to speak aloud. But what had it really changed?

Tomorrow would be worse. He knew that with a certainty that settled in his stomach like lead. Shawn and his friends would make sure of it. The small act of defiance that had felt so righteous in the moment now seemed foolish, dangerous.

And yet...

Remi paused at the corner where his street met the main road. In the distance, a train whistle echoed mournfully, and somewhere overhead, a crow called out with a harsh, defiant cry. The sound resonated with something deep inside him—a refusal to accept things as they were, a desperate need for change.

He just didn't know what that change would look like. Not yet.

But he would figure it out. He had to.

[End of Chapter 2]

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