The office was colder than the hallway.
Not because of the air-conditioning, but because nothing in it felt lived in. Clean desk. Straight chairs. A poster on the wall about Safe School Values that looked like it had never been read.
Eli sat across from the principal, hands folded in his lap.
Across from him, the vice principal flipped through a thin file.
"Eli Herman," she said, adjusting her glasses. "You understand why you're here."
Eli nodded. "Because I stopped staying quiet."
The principal looked up sharply. "Don't try to act smart here.."
Eli didn't respond.
The vice principal cleared her throat. "There was a physical altercation on school grounds with multiple witnesses. Phones were involved."
"So now you care because there's evidence." Eli said quietly.
The principal frowned. "Watch your tone."
Eli raised his eyes. "What's the issue then? I didn't throw the first punch."
"That's been noted," the vice principal said. "But it can't be ignored that you escalated things."
Eli leaned back slightly. "So it's okay to ignore me when I'm the victim, but it's not okay when I fight back."
Silence.
The principal folded his hands. "We're only trying to help you."
Eli almost laughed.
"And where was that help when I needed it?" he said.
The vice principal sighed. "Eli, you should have reported the bullying."
Eli's jaw tightened.
"I did," he said. "Twice. Last year. And the year before."
The principal glanced at the file again. "There's no record of that."
"Because the school only reacts to what they can see, not what they're told." Eli replied.
The room stayed quiet.
"You can't expect us to act on rumors," the vice principal said carefully.
Eli looked at her. "But you can act on videos."
The principal shifted. "This isn't getting us anywhere."
"Sur it is." Eli said calmly. "Now the school can't say that I didn't report about the bullying."
Another pause.
The vice principal closed the file. "Regardless, your behavior crossed a line."
Eli nodded. "When I did it."
The principal's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"When they did it," Eli continued, voice even, "it was jokes. When I did it, it was a threat."
"That's not—"
"I'm not asking you to agree," Eli said. "I'm asking you to be honest."
The principal exhaled slowly. "You're suspended for three days."
Eli nodded again. "I expected that."
The vice principal blinked. "You don't seem that surprised?"
"I'm looking at the bright side. At least now they can bully me at home."
Eli met her gaze. "But then again, it's not like you'd care, since you wouldn't see it."
Silence.
The principal stood. "This meeting is over."
Eli rose without argument.
As he reached the door, the vice principal spoke again.
"We want to help you," she said.
Eli paused, hand on the handle.
"No. What you want is for this to go away." he replied. "I'm sure that it was more convenient when I was quiet."
He left before either of them could answer.
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Not because of distance—but because the adrenaline had faded, leaving only something heavier behind.
Neither anger nor fear fit.
What he felt instead was clarity.
They hadn't cared when he was quiet.
They cared when he disrupted order.
Eli stopped at a crosswalk and stared at his reflection in the glass of a parked car.
"…So that's the rule," he muttered. "Be loud or be ignored."
The light changed.
He crossed.
At home, the house was quiet.
His mom wasn't back yet.
Eli dropped his bag by the door and sat at the kitchen table.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from his mom.
Suspension?
We'll talk later. I'm at work
He put his phone back into his pocket.
He went to his room.
He took the mask out from his bag and kept it on the table.
White. Still. Smiling.
Eli stared at it.
"You really are something else aren't you." he said.
The mask didn't respond.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"They didn't care," he continued quietly. "Not until it was inconvenient."
He picked the mask up, turning it slowly in his hands.
"…But you worked," he admitted.
He set the mask down again.
Stood.
Paced.
For the first time since everything started, Eli didn't want to put it on.
Not because he was afraid of it.
But because he understood it a little better.
Pride didn't protect you.
It forced people to react.
And reactions were power.
Eli stopped pacing.
"…If that's how it works," he said to the empty room, "then I should've been using it sooner."
The thought lingered.
That evening, his phone buzzed.
A school group chat he barely used.
Skeleton Hoodie:
Yo. You suspended?
Eli stared at the screen.
Then typed.
Eli:
Yeah.
A pause.
Skeleton Hoodie:
That's messed up. They never did anything before.
Eli's fingers hovered.
Eli:
Yeah, well I never fought back before, did I?.
Another pause.
Skeleton Hoodie:
You sound different.
Eli looked at the mask on his desk.
Then back at the screen.
Eli:
Maybe I am.
He set the phone down.
That night, Eli lay awake longer than usual.
He didn't dream.
He thought.
About how quickly the school turned on him—and how easily it would turn on someone else if pushed the right way.
Eventually, he sat up.
Reached for the mask.
Didn't put it on.
He just held it.
"…Next time," he said softly, "I'll have some more fun."
The stitched smile caught the light.
Patient.
Waiting.
And for the first time—
Eli smiled back.