“Enough. Everyone—pens down. Franke! Put. Your pen. Down.”

  The last exam of the winter term was over, and Crys rolled his neck until it popped.

  Up front, Mrs. Triver was yanking Larry’s paper away, scolding him as if he hadn’t heard the bell.

  “Zero points, Franke!”

  Larry let out a pathetic noise and reached for it, then slumped, like he’d finally given up.

  That was the cue.

  The classroom started to stir.

  Crys put his stuff away, shoved it into his backpack, and got out fast—

  before Larry could latch onto him again.

  “Crys.”

  He’d barely stepped into the hallway when someone called his name.

  He turned.

  Neria came jogging up, bright as ever.

  “What?”

  The awkwardness made his voice rough.

  Neria didn’t seem to notice.

  She dug into her bag and pulled out a colorful ticket.

  “I’m having people over for Easter.

  Will you come again?”

  “Uh…”

  Crys scratched his head, cornered.

  “I’ll pass.

  Have fun with everyone.”

  “…You’re still thinking about Christmas,” Neria said softly.

  “Right?”

  Crys looked away.

  Neria wasn’t the problem.

  But the Christmas party had been a disaster.

  Hot sauce in his drink.

  Trash shoved at him as “presents.”

  He could’ve swallowed that.

  But at the end—

  they’d made him stand up in front of everyone,

  and forced him to dance with Larry.

  He couldn’t bear those laughing eyes.

  He’d run without saying goodbye.

  They hadn’t even exchanged contacts,

  so the first time he could talk to Neria was after winter break.

  She’d apologized, tears in her voice.

  Crys had acted like it didn’t matter.

  Because in the end, he’d gone knowing what it was—

  a loud, stupid place.

  Still.

  That shame hadn’t faded.

  All that was left was the regret.

  I shouldn’t have gone.

  Crys stayed silent.

  Neria glanced around, then leaned in, almost whispering.

  “This time, I’m only inviting people I trust.

  So it’s safe.”

  A beat.

  “And I asked you first.”

  “Why me?”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Do you need a reason?”

  Neria always smiled.

  But when she looked straight at him like that,

  his heart wouldn’t settle.

  Don’t get the wrong idea, he told himself—

  and still his pulse sped up.

  Her lips—softly tinted with balm—parted,

  about to add something more—

  and then.

  “What’re you talking to that gloomy nerd for.”

  Mandeep Renshaw slid in like he owned the place,

  threw an arm around Neria’s shoulders,

  then noticed the ticket and snorted.

  “Seriously? Inviting him is just cruel.

  Did you forget already?

  At Christmas this guy ran home like he was about to cry.”

  Heat flared across Crys’s face.

  Since winter break, no one had brought it up.

  They forgot.

  That’s what he’d believed—

  and now—

  “It’s not like I was about to cry.”

  He meant to say it loudly.

  But it crushed in his throat,

  coming out small.

  Pathetic.

  Mandeep cupped a hand to his ear, making a show of it.

  “Huh?

  Can’t hear you.

  Say it again. Nerd language ain’t my thing.”

  Neria shrugged his arm off her shoulder, openly disgusted.

  “Crys doesn’t like fights.

  Unlike you.

  Take your hand off me.”

  “I mean, I get it,” Mandeep said, bored.

  “You wanna look like some saint for inviting the poor lonely nerd.”

  Then he leaned in harder,

  pressing his weight like it was natural.

  “But you got the order wrong, Neria.

  Why’s he first?

  Why not me?”

  “I’m not inviting you.”

  Neria’s voice rang, clear.

  “You really think I’d invite someone who laughs at his friends?”

  Crys blinked.

  Mandeep was the center of the class.

  Neria was the kind everyone loved.

  People said they looked good together—

  said it like it was obvious.

  Even Crys had assumed they were close.

  So then—

  Mandeep was the only one clinging to her.

  Mandeep seemed to realize it too.

  His face twisted.

  And then—

  he shoved Neria toward the wall.

  He stepped in, blocking her escape,

  and looked down at her.

  “You laughed too.”

  “You only see what’s convenient for you,” Neria said.

  “If you think I was mocking him—”

  Her gaze didn’t move.

  “—then that’s only because of what you do to other people.

  That’s the kind of person you are.”

  Neria didn’t flinch.

  She didn’t look away.

  Only her hand—clenched around the ticket—had turned white.

  Her voice didn’t shake.

  Crys, on the other hand,

  was completely crushed under the pressure.

  He couldn’t step in.

  Should he call for help?

  Run for a teacher?

  It wouldn’t make it in time.

  People had formed a ring around them—

  watching from a distance,

  holding up phones.

  No one moved to stop it.

  —What can I even do?

  If he stepped in the wrong way,

  he’d just provoke Mandeep.

  That excuse slid into place all on its own,

  clean and easy—

  and he hated himself for how easy it was.

  “C’mon, man. That’s enough.”

  Even when one of Mandeep’s friends tried to sound gentle,

  Mandeep didn’t listen.

  To anyone.

  A teacher, a guard—

  someone.

  Someone could just walk past,

  see it,

  end it.

  Crys closed his eyes.

  As if a wish could still come true,

  even though he already knew it wouldn’t.

  When he opened them again, Neria still didn’t look away,

  and the air had tightened further.

  Crys clenched his damp palm into a fist.

  —And then,

  he made up his mind,

  and opened his mouth.

  In that instant, a low voice dropped into the hallway

  like distant thunder.

  “What are you doing?”

  A shadow fell behind Mandeep.

  When he turned,

  his body lifted a few inches off the floor.

  Someone had him by the collar.

  No matter how he kicked,

  his feet didn’t touch.

  “Huh?

  Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Mandeep Renshaw.” The voice didn’t change. “I asked you. What are you doing?”

  The moment Mandeep realized it was Junaid,

  his face went blank.

  The red of anger drained out.

  He went pale.

  He twisted, desperate to break free—

  but Junaid didn’t budge.

  Finally, Mandeep stopped struggling.

  His mouth pulled into a sloppy grin,

  like he was trying to make peace.

  “Nah, it’s nothing…

  Just talking, that’s all.”

  Junaid leaned closer,

  and glared.

  “Looks fun.

  Talk to me too.”

  “Another time,” Neria said, calm.

  “Let go of him.”

  Junaid frowned, still doubtful—but lowered his hand slowly.

  The second Mandeep’s shoes hit the floor, he bolted with his little crew in tow.

  “What’re you staring at.

  Get lost.”

  Junaid barked it out,

  and the students who’d been watching

  scattered in a rush.

  “Thank you, Junaid. Ah—wait.”

  Neria stopped him as he turned to leave,

  and pulled another ticket from her bag.

  “It’s the usual invitation.

  You should come too.”

  Junaid only glanced at it.

  No answer.

  He just walked off down the hallway, his steps heavy—like a bear.

  After that one shout,

  the corridor emptied so completely

  it felt wrong.

  Crys couldn’t stand the silence.

  He was about to say something—

  but Neria spoke first.

  “Junaid and I grew up together.

  People judge him by how he looks, but…

  he’s really a kind person.”

  She smiled, small.

  “I’d be happy if you got to know him too, Crys.”

  —Like, what—becoming friends with that Junaid?

  Crys pictured it—

  him laughing with someone who always looked angry—

  and shook his head.

  Still.

  He was glad Junaid had come.

  That part was real.

  “…Yeah.

  I can tell he’s a good guy.”

  “And you,” Neria said.

  “You were cool.”

  Cool?

  The word almost came out.

  He’d only watched.

  Only waited for someone else to stop it.

  Being praised for doing nothing

  felt worse than being blamed.

  Crys wiped his damp palms on his pants.

  “When you told him to let go…

  I heard you.”

  He looked up at her.

  He’d thought Junaid’s voice had swallowed it.

  The second he knew she’d heard—

  the embarrassment rushed back.

  Saying something he wasn’t used to.

  Someone hearing it.

  And in the end, it not mattering—

  it all felt like some awkward solo act.

  Neria took his hand

  and pressed the ticket into it.

  “Then… Easter.”

  After they parted, pedaling felt heavier than usual.

  He couldn’t help hearing his classmates as they passed—

  talking about the test,

  talking about Easter break plans.

  And every time,

  Neria’s voice came back.

  He knew she was kind.

  But right now,

  it sounded like blame.

  Neria wasn’t just kind.

  She’d been brave.

  She hadn’t backed down an inch,

  even against Mandeep—

  and she’d protected him too,

  even though he’d done nothing.

  And she’d still said he was “cool.”

  —No.

  The cool one was Neria.

  Being laughed at by Mandeep hurt less

  than Neria acting like nothing had happened.

  Crys pulled his hood down deep,

  like he could hide from the words stuck in his ears.

  Turning off Heathway onto Rubra Street,

  Mr. Roe’s dog, Cal,

  wagged his tail hard

  and shoved his head against the fence.

  Crys didn’t feel like stopping today.

  He ignored him

  and cut into Nigella Street.

  Back in his room,

  he dropped onto the bed

  without even changing.

  If only he could’ve fallen asleep like that.

  But in the quiet,

  the scene kept replaying.

  Again.

  And again.

  Crys grabbed his headphones from his backpack

  and blasted his favorite song.

  It didn’t help.

  He pulled out a comic—