Why is he always so quiet?
I've never seen him talk to anyone.
It's like he doesn't want anyone to get close.
He's really handsome…
…and he got full marks on the class test.
There's something… off about him.
…I kind of like it.
The whispers weren't meant for me, but I still heard them.
Two girls sat a few seats away, talking just loud enough. Or maybe I was just used to picking up things I wasn't supposed to.
I didn't look up.
I rarely did.
It had been a long time since I'd had a proper conversation. Words never came out the way I wanted. And when they did, it felt like people were waiting for me to mess up.
So I kept things simple.
Stay quiet. Don't stand out. Get through the day.
It was the third week at Springdale High.
I sat in my usual spot—back-left, near the door. One hand under my jaw, staring at nothing in particular while waiting for lunch break to end.
Then the noise started.
Loud. Sudden.
Not normal.
I glanced toward the hallway.
People were gathering. Some standing on their toes, some already backing away. That kind of noise didn't mean anything good.
I hesitated for a second.
Then I stood up.
I don't know why.
By the time I reached the door, I could see what was happening.
Someone was on the floor.
Legs stretched out. One hand behind him, trying to push himself up.
I recognized him.
Ethan Blake.
I didn't know him well. Just his name from attendance.
But I'd noticed him.
He was hard not to notice.
Tall. Built. The kind of person people naturally made space for. In class, he was quiet—like me. But not in the same way.
People talked to him.
Waited for him.
Followed him.
Even when he wasn't doing anything.
Now he was on the ground.
Three seniors stood around him.
I didn't know what started it.
Didn't really want to.
Ethan's breathing was uneven.
Ethan tried to get up.
One of them stepped forward and slammed his foot down on Ethan's, forcing him back.
Then grabbed his collar—
—and slapped him.
The sound cut through everything.
I flinched.
No one moved.
I shouldn't either.
This wasn't my problem.
If I stayed quiet, it would end. It always did.
Another slap.
Something in my chest tightened.
Too loud. Too close.
I tried to look away.
I couldn't.
My head felt heavy. Like something was pressing down, not letting me think straight.
Don't.
Just stay out of it.
My fingers curled slightly at my side.
Another hit.
And before I could stop myself—
"This is enough…"
My voice came out weak.
Not loud. Not firm.
Just… there.
A few people turned.
I felt it immediately.
That was a mistake.
Still, the words kept coming.
"Watching this is… painful," I said, my throat dry. "Please… just stop."
Silence.
The senior slowly turned his head toward me.
Not surprised.
Just annoyed.
"How dare you interrupt," he said flatly, "while your seniors are teaching a lesson?"
I froze.
I didn't have a response.
I didn't even know why I spoke.
Then he moved.
Fast.
The punch landed in my stomach before I could react.
Everything went blank.
I staggered back, my body folding before I could stop it. Nothing came in when I tried to breathe. Just a dry, empty feeling in my chest.
I heard someone laugh.
Or maybe I imagined it.
My vision blurred for a second as I tried to straighten up.
Why did I say anything…
Footsteps.
He was coming closer.
I didn't think. I couldn't.
My body moved on its own.
My leg came up—too fast, too unbalanced, like I was about to trip.
It wasn't clean. It wasn't controlled.
It just… happened.
My knee slammed forward.
There was a dull impact.
Then silence.
I blinked.
The senior was frozen for a second, his face twisted—then he dropped to his knees, a choking sound coming out of him.
A second later, he turned and threw up.
I stood there, completely still.
I didn't understand what just happened.
Did I…?
My hands felt cold.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Even the other two seniors just stared—like they were trying to process it the same way I was.
Then—
"Hey! What's going on here?!"
A teacher's voice cut through everything.
The hallway snapped back to life.
People stepped back. Some scattered. The tension broke all at once.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
I'd never been in a fight before.
And now… this.
-----
The principal's office was silent except for his voice.
Ethan and I stood side by side. The seniors were there too, watching with bored interest. I kept my eyes down. I felt sick.
When the principal announced a one-week suspension, my head went blank.
A week.
I looked around, hoping someone would argue. No one did. Not even Ethan. He stared at the floor like he'd expected this.
That scared me more than the punishment.
Until today, I'd been invisible. Now I was a problem.
-----
Outside, I sat on the steps, elbows on my knees, staring at the ground.
My head felt heavy.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
I just wanted a normal year.
Quiet.
Simple.
Now everyone had seen.
Everyone would remember.
A week suspension… this early…
I pressed my hands together, trying to steady them.
Maybe transferring wouldn't be a bad idea.
The thought came easier than it should have.
"Your name's Daniel, right?"
I looked up.
Ethan stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets.
He looked… fine.
Like nothing had happened.
"Yeah," I said.
He nodded once, then sat down beside me without asking.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"You really don't talk much," he said.
I didn't respond.
I wasn't sure what to say.
"…Thanks," he added after a second.
I frowned slightly. "For what?"
"For stepping in."
I shook my head a little. "I didn't really… step in."
It didn't feel like that.
"I just said something," I muttered. "I thought they'd stop."
"They wouldn't," he said simply.
I didn't argue.
Deep down, I knew that.
A short silence passed.
"They'll come after you, you know," Ethan added. "Those guys."
My grip tightened slightly.
"…I'm transferring anyway," I said.
The words came out before I fully thought them through.
Crestwood High.
I hadn't decided before today—but it made sense now.
It had a reputation for top students. Good enough reason to leave without questions.
And it was far from Ridgefield.
Far enough to start over.
Ethan turned his head toward me.
"…Huh?"
I kept my eyes forward.
"After today… it's just easier," I said quietly.
Less attention.
Less trouble.
Less… everything.
He didn't reply immediately.
I could feel him looking at me.
"…Yeah," he said after a moment. "I get that."
Another pause.
I thought that was it.
He was quiet for a moment.
Like he was thinking something through.
"Then I'll come with you."
I blinked and looked at him.
"What?"
"You won't know anyone there, right?" he said, like it was obvious. "…So I'll come too."
"That doesn't make sense."
He shrugged. "It does to me."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
Who does that…?
"I'm Ethan, by the way," he added. "Ethan Blake."
"I know," I said before I could stop myself.
He smiled slightly.
"…I was curious about you," I admitted after a second. "You're… known. I didn't expect to see you like that."
"On the floor?" he said, amused.
I nodded.
He leaned back a little, looking up at the sky.
"Yeah," he said. "It happens."
I didn't fully understand what he meant.
"Where are you transferring?" he asked.
"…Crestwood High."
He nodded once. "Figures."
The bell rang in the distance.
I stood up slowly.
Everything still felt uncertain.
But not as empty as before.
As I walked away from Springdale High, the air felt different.
Colder, maybe.
Or maybe that was just me.
Crestwood wasn't just another school.
It was distance.
A reset.
And maybe—
something else.
I just didn't know what yet.