Dick sat alone before a bowl of noodles in the school eatery, his fork moving aimlessly through the strands. The meal, steaming and full of rich aroma, beckoned for attention, yet his appetite was nowhere to be found. His thoughts were miles away, consumed by the unsettling events of earlier that day. The cafeteria around him—filled with students laughing, gossiping, and sharing meals—appeared to be the usual hustle of a typical school lunch. But Dick knew better. He knew that beneath the surface of all this seemingly ordinary chatter, evil lurked in the most unexpected places. Evil, he had learned, often wore a familiar face.
His mind circled back again to the attack on Moore. It had happened so fast, so abruptly, that it felt like a surreal blur. The shock of the moment made it seem more like a scene from a nightmare than real life. It was as if time had warped itself around that single instant, and now Dick was left struggling to piece together the fractured images in his mind.
Without realizing it, he lifted a forkful of noodles to his mouth, but the strands slipped back into the bowl. A few fell onto his lap. Startled by the mess, he blinked rapidly, snapping himself back to reality. His thoughts were tangled, too far gone in memory, and in his attempt to return to the present, his elbow knocked over a nearby glass of water. Instinctively, he tried to stop it, but his frantic reflexes only made matters worse. The glass tipped fully, splashing water onto the students seated next to him.
"Are you crazy?!" a voice rang out, sharp and cutting through the air.
Dick's stomach dropped into his shoes as he muttered, "Sorry."
His gaze lifted—only to wish he hadn't. Standing before him, looming like a storm cloud, was Harry, a towering figure of trouble. Dick had spent months avoiding this very moment. Harry's glare was icy, eyes cold with disdain, veins bulging beneath pale skin, giving him a sinister and unsettling look, like a predator focused on its prey. Harry's temper was as legendary as his physical strength, especially when directed at those he considered beneath him.
"I'm sorry," Dick stammered again, his voice barely above a whisper. He lowered his gaze quickly, hoping to avoid further confrontation. Harry, however, wasn't the type to let such things slide.
"Sorry isn't good enough," Harry sneered, stepping forward menacingly. "You think you can just spill water on me and walk away?"
"I didn't mean to—" Dick began, but Harry was quick to cut him off with a shove that knocked him back hard into his chair. The force was enough to send Dick teetering on the edge of falling.
The whole cafeteria seemed to erupt in laughter, a wave of mocking and derisive noise that cut through Dick's already fragile composure. His face burned with shame and humiliation as the laughter surrounded him. He felt small, like an insect, helpless and exposed. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he thought he might just disappear right there, melt away into nothingness.
The sight of Harry towering over him was bad enough, but the presence of his gang—Mikey, Poure, and Niggy—made it worse. Their eyes gleamed with cruel amusement, and their whispered taunts were like daggers aimed directly at Dick's confidence. Their mocking grins only added to the humiliation, the weight of the moment pressing down on him harder with every second that passed.
Dick hated coming to this cafeteria. He hated the noise, the cliques, the bullying—it all felt suffocating. He had always preferred the quiet comfort of eating lunch at home, away from the chaos of school and the bitter undercurrents of social hierarchy. But Moore had convinced him to join the others for once, promising that the food was good and the company better. It had been a mistake.
---
Earlier that day, chaos had erupted in their classroom after Ms. Caul's English lesson. As soon as she stepped out of the room, Poure, one of the school's most notorious bullies, had shoved a locker into the main passageway, blocking the only exit. He sat atop it like a king on his throne, his legs sprawled out in front of him. His eyes glinted with menace as he surveyed the room.
"Pay up if you want to leave," Poure had called out, his voice mocking and full of authority. "No one leaves until I get what I'm owed."
Most students had stayed glued to their seats, pretending to focus on their books or scribbling in their notebooks. Dick had been one of them. He had desperately wanted to leave the room and grab a snack, but the risk of crossing Poure and his gang was far too great. No one dared challenge him. To do so would be to invite the wrath of not just Poure, but the entire group of troublemakers who followed his every command.
But Moore was different. Moore had always been fearless, unshaken by bullies. He was built like an athlete, with a quiet confidence that earned him the respect of his peers. Moore had no qualms about standing up to people like Poure. And though this often made him a target, it had also earned him the admiration of the students around him. As Moore approached Dick, he gave a light-hearted grin, one that failed to hide the tension in his eyes.
"Let's grab a bite," Moore had suggested, his voice calm despite the palpable tension in the room.
Dick had hesitated, his unease growing. "Maybe we should wait—"
"No way," Moore had interrupted. "We're not staying here just because of him."
As they approached the exit, Bret, a smaller boy with a timid demeanor, had stepped forward with his money already in hand. Poure had snatched it from him without even looking, stuffing it into his shirt pocket like he was entitled to it.
One by one, other students had reluctantly handed over their cash, eager to escape the classroom but too afraid to do anything but comply. Dick, despite his growing anxiety, tried to stand tall, recalling Moore's repeated advice: "Don't show fear. Stand your ground."
But fear had a way of creeping in no matter how hard he tried to shake it. As they reached Poure, Dick felt the familiar knot of dread settle in his stomach.
Poure had leaned back lazily, extending his hand without even looking up. "Your turn," he had muttered, his voice dripping with venom, barely a glance at Moore.
Moore hadn't hesitated. He had swatted Poure's hand aside, his voice ringing with authority. "Move. Now."
The room had fallen into a stunned silence. Poure had nearly fallen off his perch but quickly regained his balance, laughing a twisted, sinister laugh that sent a chill through the room.
Moore had grabbed Poure by the collar, yanking him forward, his voice low and commanding. "Move. I'm not asking."
The students had watched in awe. Some had quietly cheered, encouraged by Moore's defiance. But just as the atmosphere reached its breaking point, something had caught Dick's eye.
A glint.
A flash of metal, sharp and deadly, emerging from behind Poure. It had moved too quickly for Dick to react fully, but his instincts kicked in. Without thinking, he had shoved Moore aside just as the blade sliced through the air. The sharp edge had grazed Moore's neck, drawing blood.
The classroom had erupted into chaos. Blood had sprayed from Moore's neck, splattering Poure's face, momentarily blinding him. Poure had screamed, clawing at his eyes, while Niggy had rushed forward to help. Moore had stood frozen, his hand pressed to his neck, blood flowing through his fingers.
Dick had acted quickly, ripping off his uniform shirt and pressing it against the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. "Stay with me," he had whispered, his voice trembling.
Mikey and the others had stormed in then, their presence only adding to the chaos. Mikey had grabbed a bloodied handkerchief, stuffing it into his pocket, his movements oddly deliberate.
"I'll get something," Mikey had muttered, disappearing down the hallway, leaving Dick to try and keep Moore conscious.
---
Now, back in the cafeteria, Dick couldn't shake the memory of Mikey's strange actions. The way Mikey had pocketed the handkerchief, the urgency in his movements—it had felt wrong. Dick couldn't explain why, but everything about that moment felt off.
"Pathetic," Harry's voice jerked Dick out of his thoughts. The sneer in his voice was sharp, mocking. "No wonder you're always a target."
Dick clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. "I said I'm sorry. What more do you want?"
Harry smirked, leaning back in a relaxed posture that only served to heighten his sense of superiority. "Next time, watch yourself," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "People like you don't belong here."
The laughter from Harry's gang echoed around Dick, their mockery ringing in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing. He thought of Moore and the blade, the blood, the chaos. He thought of Mikey's strange behavior, his deliberate haste.
And as he walked away from Harry's gaze, a quiet vow echoed in his mind. Next time, I won't just stand back.