"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 kit, 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 m rush.

  "Mom, I've got money on my at," Remi said, notig the slight tremor in her hands—too much coffee again, probably from ae night of work. "You don't o—"

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

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

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

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

  Her eyes widened. "Oh! The quarterly review—" She g her watd grimaced. "We'll talk more ter, 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 turhe er, and he could picture her standing in the doorrobably still fidgeting with her coffee mug.

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

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

  "Only because you've mentio about fifty times," Remi said, w his bination lock.

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

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

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

  A sudden force smmed into Remi's shoulder from behind, driving him hard against the metal lockers. The impact rattled the doors and khe breath from his lungs. Shawn Baker's ughter 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 crosse tryout."

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

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

  "Watch where yoing, Halistaad," Shawn s over Remi with the easy fidence of someone who had never faced sequences for his as. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt... again."

  James stepped forward, his crosse letterman jacket a sharp trast to Remi's worn hoodie. A smirk pyed across his features. "Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of what happe 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 crosse field, running the drills until his lungs burned. He'd outperformed half the returning pyers, even mao score past their senioalkeeper.

  "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 cheg feels like."

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

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

  The st hit had sent Remi sprawling, his stick cttering across the turf. He could still hear the ughter, 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 pyers who 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 acg someone of something."

  "Why not?" The words kept ing, like a dam breaking. "Everyone saw it. Everyone knows your dad's golf buddies run this sust be nice, having everything hao you—"

  Shawn moved faster than Remi expected, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and smming him back against the lockers. The impaocked 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 cirg 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 ."

  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. "Watouth, 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 escate beyond the usual p into something much worse.

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

  Shawn held Remi's gaze for one more sed 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 css, 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 css. Remi and Andrew walked in sileil they were well clear of the lockers, turning down the sce wing where the crowds were thinner.

  "You know they're going to make you pay for that," Andrew said finally, his voice low. "Shaw 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 plete 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 gnced back the way they'd e. "You should report them or something. What they did during tryouts—that wasn't normal cheg. That was assault."

  Remi gave a bitter ugh. "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 g about beio css. "You know what the worst part is? My mom keeps asking what's wrong, why I'm ing, why I seem 'different.' But I 't tell her. She'd try to fix it, and that would just make everything worse."

  Andrew sat dowo him, their shoulders toug. "Remember in D&D st week, when my padin 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 ge the game?"

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

  "I don't kly," 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 backpad flipped it open to reveal a rough sketch of Shawn being trampled by a celestial uni. "For now, though, we at least imagihem 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 grihen grew serious again. "We'll figure something out, Remi. They 't win forever."

  The final bell rang, marking them officially te for css. But for a moment lohey sat there in the empty hallway, looking at Andrew's ridiculous drawing aing themselves believe that maybe, just maybe, things could ge.

  The first two periods passed in a blur of nervous tension. Every time the bell rang, Remi found himself sing the hallways, expeg Shawn or one of his ies 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 watg him with predatory i. The stocky athlete didn't share Shawn's fluid grace, but he made up for it with sheer muscle and a nasty streak that maed 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 expnations punctuated by the rhythmic squeak of her marker against the whiteboard. The fluorest 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 moveme 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 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 mao scrawl half aion before his notes devolved into unscious 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 css?"

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

  "I... uh..." He squi the board, trying to make sense of the symbols that seemed to dand shift before him.

  Mrs. Caldwin sighed, that particur sigh teachers reserve for students they've given up on. "Pay attention, Mr. Halistaad. This will be oest." She turned back to the board, already moving on to the 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 o report back to Shawn ter. Evehe ringleader wasn't around, his influence spread through his work of toadies and hangers-on, each eager to prove their loyalty through someone else's humiliation.

  By lunch period, the m's frontation had already bee just aory in the school's gossip mill. Remi could feel the occasional gnces from other students as he made his way through the cafeteria line, but he kept his eyes forward, focused oing through another day. Another hour. Another minute.

  Remi sat alo his usual table in the far er of the cafeteria, pig at the dubious mystery meat on his tray. The sound of Shawn's ughter carried across the room from the athletes' table, where the crosse team held court like medieval nobles. He tried to focus on his food, but his mother's words from that m kept eg in his head: "You seem... different tely."

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

  "Mind if I sit?" Andreeared with his broer lunch bag, not waiting for an answer before dropping into the seat across from Remi. He pulled out a slightly squashed sandwid began uning it with methodical precision. "So I've been thinking about what happehis m."

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

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

  He was cut off by a otiohe lunch line. Eddie Enfield had ered a freshman, making a show of "actally" knog the youudent's tray to the ground. The cafeteria monitors were vely looking the other way, as they always did wheain students were involved.

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

  Remi's hands ched into fists uhe table. The freshmahought the kid's name might be Mark—scrambled to 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 sighe end of lunch period. Students began filing out of the cafeteria, carefully stepping around Mark, who was still trying to up his spilled lunch. As Remi walked past, he pulled a few dolrs from his pocket—the money his mother had insisted he take that m—and dropped them on the floor o the youudent.

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

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of csses, each hour dragging until finally the dismissal bell rang. Remi gathered his things quickly, hoping to avoid any further frontations. But as he headed for his locker, he spotted Eddie Enfield waitihe exit, clearly watg for someoheir eyes met briefly, and Eddie's face split into a predatrin.

  Not today. Remi turned sharply, taking the long way around through the sce 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 g under his feet, Remi couldn't shake the feeling that something had to ge. 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 whe 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 te afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk as Remi walked, his breath visible in the cooling air. The familiar route home felt lohan 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 ged?

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

  A...

  Remi paused at the er where his street met the main road. In the distance, a train whistle eournfully, 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 ge.

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

  But he would figure it out. He had to.

  [End of Chapter 2]

  Alright. Chapter two done. More to e. Lots more.

  These are still in the prologue chapters BTW. so, hopefully they gather the feelings and frustrations that many of us know and remember from our years in the school system.

  Edit:

  I’m putting my Discord el back up on perma invite:

  https://disc/NYjPU3auVy

  Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

  I’ll put this link in other chapters as well.

  Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna ent.

  TTFN Everyone.