He Dumped Coffee on the New Kid—Then He Got Expelled

ay, Jacob!”

The laughter chased me to first period.

In English, the teacher mispronounced my last name and didn’t apologize.

In math, the kid behind me tapped my shoulder with the end of his pen and said, “Hey, Fresh Meat,” every time I tried to write.

By lunch, my shoulders were tight.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

Master Kim’s voice sat in the back of my skull the way it always did when I felt my pulse climb.

“Strength is for true battles,” he used to say. “Not for your pride.”

I carried my tray through the cafeteria.

Every table felt claimed.

Cheerleaders at one. Athletes at another. Theater kids in a corner with a laptop open.

And Martin—dead center, holding court, laughing too loud.

I chose the empty table near the wall and sat.

I took one bite of pizza. Chewed twice. Forced myself to swallow.

Then a tray slid onto the table across from me.

Rowan sat down like he was afraid the chair would squeak and give him away.

He kept his head angled, eyes not quite on mine. “You’re the new kid.”

“Yeah.”

Rowan swallowed. “I’m Rowan.”

“Jacob.”

Rowan nodded like he’d expected that. “Martin hit you.”

“He bumped me.”

Rowan let out a humorless laugh. “That’s what he does first. A bump. A joke. Something small. Then something bigger.”

I drank water. “Why?”

Rowan’s fingers tightened around his plastic fork. “Because if he can make you react, he gets to own the story. If you swing, you’re ‘crazy.’ If you cry, you’re ‘weak.’ If you tell, you’re a ‘snitch.’”

“That’s convenient,” I said.

Rowan’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but forgot how. “It’s Oakridge.”

I leaned back. “What happens if I don’t react?”

Rowan looked at me then, really looked. “Then he’ll keep going until you do.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Rowan’s face pinched. “Okay like… you’re gonna tell the principal?”

“Okay like I heard you.”

Rowan glanced toward Martin’s table without moving his head. “He’s watching us.”

I didn’t turn. “Let him.”

Rowan’s voice dropped. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“That bad?”

Rowan’s throat worked. “He broke my friend’s nose last year and made everyone laugh like it was a prank.”

I set my water down gently. “And the school did nothing?”

Rowan’s eyes flickered. “Martin’s dad funds the booster club. His mom sits on some district committee. Nobody touches him.”

I exhaled through my nose. “Got it.”

Rowan leaned in. “Just… don’t go anywhere alone after school. Don’t—”

A shadow fell across our table.

The cafeteria noise dipped like someone turned the volume down.

Martin’s voice slid in. “Well, look at that. Rowan found a new support animal.”

Rowan’s face drained.

Martin stared at Rowan like he was gum on his shoe. “You collecting new kids now? Like stray cats?”

Rowan’s voice barely came out. “We’re just eating lunch.”

Martin’s smile widened. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

He turned to me. “So this is your first day. How’s it going, Jacob?”

I met his gaze. “Fine.”

Martin nodded slowly. “Fine. That’s good. Because you know what I like?”

I waited.

“I like a kid who can take a joke,” Martin said. “Can you take a joke?”

Behind him, Tanner chuckled. “He’s about to learn.”

Rowan’s hand shook on his fork.

Martin reached down, lifted a plastic cup from Tanner’s tray.

I saw the dark liquid slosh. I smelled the sweetness and bitterness.

Iced coffee.

Martin held it up like a trophy. “Here’s your welcome drink.”

Rowan whispered, “Don’t—”

Martin tipped the cup.

Cold coffee poured over my head. Down my hair. Into my hoodie. Over my cheeks.

The cafeteria erupted.

Not everyone laughed. Some gasped. But the laughter was loud enough to cover the rest.

Phones came up instantly.

Rowan pushed back from the table, horrified. “Martin—what the hell?”

Martin slapped the empty cup onto the table. “Oops.”

Coffee dripped from my chin to my tray.

I felt it soak into the collar of my shirt, crawl down my back.

I breathed in through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

My hands stayed open on the table—palms down, relaxed.

Master Kim again: “Your hands tell your mind what to do.”

Martin leaned closer, voice bright. “Well? That’s funny, right?”

Rowan’s chair scraped as he stood half up, panic in his eyes. “Jacob, don’t—don’t do it.”

I blinked once to clear coffee from my lashes.

Then I stood. Slow.

The room quieted in a ripple as people realized I wasn’t lunging.

Martin’s grin stayed pasted on, but his eyes tightened. “What? You gonna cry?”

I reached up, wiped my face with my sleeve. Looked at him straight.

“Are you done?” I asked.

Two words.

Not loud. Not a threat.

But the air shifted anyway.

Martin’s smile twitched, like it forgot its lines.

A girl near the soda machine whispered, “Oh my God.”

Tanner tried to laugh. It came out weak. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I kept my eyes on Martin. “It means I’m going to finish my lunch. And you’re going to stop.”

Martin’s jaw jumped. “You don’t tell me—”

I stepped closer—not into him, not aggressive, just close enough that he couldn’t pretend I was scared.

“Walk away,” I said.

Rowan’s hands hovered at his sides like he didn’t know whether to run or help.

For a moment, Martin froze.

Then he forced a laugh too big, too late. “Okay, okay! Look at Mr. Tough Guy.”

He backed away like he meant it as a choice.

“Clean yourself up,” Martin called to the room. “Fresh Meat’s got rules!”

His crew laughed on cue, but it sounded thinner now.

I sat back down.

Rowan stared at me like I’d just done something impossible. “How did you… not—”

I took a napkin and dabbed my hoodie. “React?”

Rowan nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

I looked at the napkin, brown with coffee. “I’ve had worse on a training mat.”

Rowan blinked. “Training… like gym?”

I shook my head. “Taekwondo.”

Rowan’s mouth opened, then closed. “Like… for real?”

“For real.”

Rowan let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. “Oh.”

Across the cafeteria, Martin watched us—eyes narrowed, calculating.

He wasn’t done. I knew that.

And I wasn’t going to start a war.

But I also wasn’t going to keep getting shoved to make someone else feel big.

The rest of the day moved like a rumor with legs.

People in the hall stared like I was a TV they’d seen before.

By seventh period, I heard it twice: “That’s the coffee kid.”

I went to my locker after the last bell.

Rowan appeared beside me, like he’d been waiting but didn’t want to admit it.

“You’re not going straight home,” Rowan said.

“I am.”

Rowan swallowed. “He’s going to do something.”

I shut my locker. “He already did.”

“No, I mean… something worse,” Rowan insisted. “He can’t let you look calm. It makes him look—”

“Small?” I offered.

Rowan’s eyes flinched. “Yeah.”

I slung my backpack on. “Then he should stop acting like that.”

Rowan grabbed my sleeve gently. “Just—don’t go to the gym if he asks.”

“Why would I go to the gym?”

Rowan’s voice went tight. “Because he’s going to.”

As if summoned, a voice echoed down the hallway.

“Jacob!”

Martin stood by the trophy case with Tanner and two others.

He waved like we were friends. “Hey, man. I wanna talk.”

Rowan’s grip tightened.

I walked over anyway. Calm. Not fast.

Martin’s smile was all teeth. “No hard feelings about lunch.”

I didn’t answer.

Martin glanced at Rowan like he was trash. “You can go, Rowan. This doesn’t concern you.”

Rowan’s voice shook, but he tried. “Leave him alone.”

Martin’s eyes flashed. “Or what?”

Rowan looked at me, helpless.

I spoke before Rowan could break. “Say what you came to say.”

Martin leaned in, dropping his voice. “Gym. After school. Five minutes.”

I held his gaze. “No.”

Martin’s eyebrows rose like he didn’t understand the word. “No?”

“No.”

Tanner laughed. “He’s scared.”

Martin spread his hands. “Come on, man. Everybody wants to see if you’re real.”

I didn’t move. “I’m not fighting you.”

Martin’s smile vanished. “Then I’ll make you.”

Rowan’s breath hitched.

I stepped back half a step, just enough space to speak clearly. “If you touch me again, I’m filing a report. And I’m sending the lunch video to the district office.”

Martin’s eyes flicked—just once—to Tanner.

Tanner’s smile faltered.

Because the lunch video already existed. Everyone knew it. And everyone knew it showed Martin pouring the coffee.

Martin recovered fast. “You gonna snitch?”

“I’m going to document,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

Martin’s voice sharpened. “You think you can threaten me in my school?”

I looked past him at the trophy case, at the shiny plaques that pretended this place had values. Then back at him.

“This isn’t your school,” I said.

Martin’s face flushed. “You’ll regret this.”

He walked away hard, shoulder-checking a freshman on purpose just to prove he could.

Rowan exhaled like his lungs were tearing. “You just made it worse.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I also made it visible.”

Rowan stared. “What does that even mean?”

“It means he can’t hide behind ‘jokes’ if everyone’s watching,” I said. “He wanted a reaction. I gave him a boundary.”

Rowan’s eyes glistened. “Boundaries don’t work here.”

“They do,” I said. “If you back them up.”

That night, my phone blew up with unknown numbers.

Links. Comments. Laughing emojis. And the same clip reposted over and over.

Martin pouring coffee.

Me standing up.

“Are you done?”

The caption someone wrote: When the new kid doesn’t play the script.

I didn’t share it.

I didn’t comment.

But I saved it.

In the morning, I walked into Oakridge and felt the difference.

People weren’t just watching me.

They were watching Martin.

He stood at his locker, stiff, pretending not to care.

When he caught me looking, his face twisted.

He came straight at me.

Rowan appeared at my side like a shield made of nerves.

Martin stopped a foot away, voice low. “You like your internet fame?”

“I didn’t post it,” I said.

Martin jabbed a finger toward my chest but didn’t touch. “You think the principal’s gonna save you? You think your little video—”

“Not the principal,” I said. “The district.”

His eyes narrowed. “You called them?”

“I said I would,” I replied. “Unless you stop.”

Martin’s nostrils flared. “You’re dead.”

A teacher walked by, and Martin’s face smoothed instantly.

“Morning, Mr. Keller!” Martin chirped.

The teacher nodded at him like Martin was a model student and kept walking.

Rowan whispered, “See?”

I watched Martin’s fake smile drop the second the teacher passed. “Yeah,” I said. “I see.”

Third period, an announcement crackled over the intercom.

“Jacob Daniels, Martin Pike—please report to the main office.”

Rowan grabbed my arm. “Oh my God.”

I patted his hand off gently. “It’s okay.”

Rowan’s eyes were wild. “It’s not okay. They’ll blame you. They always—”

“They can’t,” I said. “Not with video.”

We walked into the office.

Martin sat in a chair, leg bouncing like a piston. Tanner stood near the wall, arms folded, trying to look uninvolved.

Principal Harrison—a tall woman with tired eyes—gestured to two chairs.

“Sit,” she said.

Martin sat first. I sat second.

Principal Harrison didn’t waste time. “I’ve seen the cafeteria footage.”

Martin’s head snapped up. “Footage? What footage?”

Principal Harrison held up her tablet. “Don’t insult me.”

Martin’s jaw tightened. “He provoked me.”

“How?” Harrison asked.

Martin’s eyes darted. “He—he was staring. He was—”

Principal Harrison tapped the screen, replaying the moment.

Martin pouring coffee.

Me sitting still.

Principal Harrison paused it on Martin’s face mid-smirk. “That’s not provocation. That’s premeditation.”

Martin’s cheeks went red. “It was a joke.”

Principal Harrison’s voice cut. “It’s harassment. And it’s assault.”

Tanner shifted. “Come on, it’s not assault—”

Principal Harrison looked at Tanner. “Did I call you in here to speak?”

Tanner shut his mouth.

Principal Harrison turned back to Martin. “You’ve had complaints before.”

Martin scoffed. “Those were lies.”

Principal Harrison slid a folder onto the desk. “Not lies. Reports. Witness statements. And now… a video seen by half the town.”

Martin’s bravado wobbled. “My dad—”

“Your dad already called,” Principal Harrison said. “He did not help you.”

That landed.

Martin blinked hard. “What?”

Principal Harrison’s expression didn’t change. “He asked me if we could ‘handle it quietly.’ I told him I’m done handling things quietly.”

Martin’s voice cracked with rage. “So what, you’re gonna punish me because I’m popular?”

“I’m going to punish you because you poured coffee on another student,” she said. “And because you threatened him afterward.”

I looked at her. “You know about that?”

Principal Harrison nodded once. “We have hallway cameras too, Jacob.”

Martin’s leg stopped bouncing.

Principal Harrison leaned forward. “Here are your options, Martin. Ten-day suspension, removal from athletics pending review, mandatory counseling sessions, and a behavior contract. Any violation means expulsion.”

Martin’s eyes went huge. “You can’t—”

“I can,” she said.

Martin shot to his feet. “This is because of him!”

Principal Harrison didn’t flinch. “Sit down.”

Martin didn’t.

Principal Harrison’s voice went colder. “If you walk out of this office right now, I’ll interpret it as refusal to comply. And I will recommend expulsion today.”

Martin froze like he’d hit a wall.

Slowly, he sat.

His gaze sliced toward me, pure hatred.

Principal Harrison turned to me. “Jacob.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not in trouble,” she said. “But you are now in the middle of something. Do you feel safe at school?”

Rowan’s words echoed: Boundaries don’t work here.

I thought about Martin’s threat. About Rowan’s fear. About how the teachers looked away.

I answered honestly. “Not yet.”

Principal Harrison nodded like she’d expected that. “Then we’re going to fix it. I’m assigning you a staff escort between classes for the next week, and we’re implementing a no-contact order. Martin is not allowed within fifty feet of you.”

Martin barked a laugh. “Fifty feet? This is a school, not a courthouse.”

Principal Harrison looked at him. “It can be both.”

Martin’s hands clenched. “This is insane.”

Principal Harrison slid another sheet forward. “Sign the contract.”

Martin stared at it like it was poison.

Tanner cleared his throat. “Martin, just sign it.”

Martin snapped, “Shut up.”

Principal Harrison didn’t raise her voice. “Sign. Or leave Oakridge.”

Martin’s pen scraped the paper like a knife.

He shoved it back. “Happy?”

Principal Harrison didn’t look happy. She looked tired. “I’ll be happy when you stop hurting people.”

Martin stood, eyes on me. “This isn’t over.”

Principal Harrison’s tone sharpened. “It is in this building. One more threat and it becomes a police matter.”

Martin’s lips pressed tight. He stormed out.

Tanner lingered, then followed, shoulders hunched.

Principal Harrison looked at me again. “Jacob, I’m sorry it took a viral video for this to get addressed.”

I met her gaze. “Me too.”

She leaned back. “If he approaches you, you walk away. You report it. You don’t fight him.”

I nodded. “I don’t want to fight.”

Principal Harrison studied me. “But you can.”

It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t brag. I didn’t deny. “Yes.”

“Then be smart,” she said. “Because if you put him in the hospital, you’ll still be the one everyone talks about.”

“I understand.”

She held my gaze a second longer. Then she said, “You can go.”

In the hallway, Rowan was waiting like he’d been holding his breath outside the office door.

His eyes searched my face. “Well?”

I shrugged. “Martin’s suspended.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open. “Suspended?”

“Ten days,” I said. “No-contact order. Removed from athletics pending review.”

Rowan grabbed the straps of his backpack like he needed something to hold onto. “That never happens.”

“It’s happening,” I said.

Rowan let out a laugh that turned into something like a sob. He looked away fast. “I’m gonna—sorry.”

I lowered my voice. “You don’t have to apologize for being relieved.”

Rowan wiped his face with his sleeve, embarrassed. “Yeah. Okay.”

We walked to class.

For two days, Oakridge felt… different.

Not kinder. Not suddenly safe.

But awake.

Martin was gone, and the hallways breathed without him.

People still stared at me, but now it was cautious, curious.

Some kids nodded at me like I’d done something brave.

I didn’t feel brave.

I felt tired.

On day three, Martin came back—because his dad fought to shorten the suspension, and the school compromised with “in-school suspension,” which meant he was technically present but supposed to be supervised.

Supposed to be.

I saw him at the end of the hall, leaning by a doorway, staring at me like a loaded weapon.

A staff escort—a security guy named Mr. Doyle—walked a few paces behind me, pretending not to.

Rowan walked beside me, quiet.

Martin called out, “Hey, Jacob.”

Mr. Doyle’s head lifted.

I didn’t stop walking.

Martin raised his voice. “You think you won? You didn’t win.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened.

Mr. Doyle stepped forward. “Keep moving, Pike.”

Martin smiled. “I’m just talking.”

Mr. Doyle’s voice went flat. “You’re violating the no-contact order.”

Martin lifted his hands. “I’m not within fifty feet.”

Mr. Doyle looked around, then pulled a small measuring wheel from the closet like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

A few kids snickered.

Martin’s face flickered with humiliation.

“Back up,” Mr. Doyle said.

Martin’s smile strained. He took one step back, then another.

But his eyes stayed locked on mine. “You’re gonna slip. Everybody slips.”

I finally spoke, quiet enough that only Rowan and Mr. Doyle heard. “Let him talk.”

Rowan hissed, “Jacob—”

I shook my head slightly.

Martin needed an audience. I wasn’t going to give him the reaction he could twist.

After school, Rowan stopped me outside the front steps.

“You’re going home now, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

Rowan’s voice lowered. “People are saying Martin’s planning something in the gym.”

I sighed. “He can plan whatever he wants.”

Rowan grabbed my arm. “No. Like… a setup. They’re saying he’s gonna record you hitting him and send it around. Get you expelled.”

That got my attention.

I looked at Rowan. “Who said that?”

Rowan swallowed. “Tanner’s little brother. He heard them in the locker room.”

Mr. Doyle approached, hearing the last words. “What’s going on?”

Rowan looked nervous. “They’re saying Martin’s trying to set Jacob up.”

Mr. Doyle’s eyes hardened. “Where?”

“The gym,” Rowan said.

Mr. Doyle exhaled. “Stay here.”

He walked fast toward the building.

Rowan stared at me like he expected me to bolt. “Don’t go in there.”

I didn’t move. “I’m not.”

Rowan’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Good.”

But then my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

A video attachment.

I didn’t open it. Not yet.

Another message came immediately after: Come to the gym or Rowan gets it.

Rowan’s face changed when he saw my expression. “What?”

I held the phone up. “He’s trying to use you.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “He can’t—he wouldn’t.”

I looked at him. “He poured coffee on my head in public. Yes, he would.”

Rowan’s breathing sped up. “What do we do?”

I turned and walked straight to the front office.

Rowan followed, half jogging. “Jacob, wait!”

At the office desk, I spoke to the secretary. “I need Principal Harrison now.”

The secretary looked up, annoyed, then saw my face. “One moment.”

Principal Harrison appeared within a minute, like she’d already been bracing for impact.

“What happened?” she asked.

I handed her my phone. “Threat. Blackmail. He’s saying he’ll hurt Rowan if I don’t go to the gym.”

Rowan’s face was pale. “I didn’t do anything.”

Principal Harrison’s eyes scanned the text. Her jaw tightened. “Stay here.”

She motioned to a counselor. “Lock the office doors. Now.”

The counselor’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Now,” Harrison repeated.

Rowan whispered, “This is my fault.”

“It’s not,” I said.

Principal Harrison looked at me. “Jacob, do not go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” I said. “But he might.”

Principal Harrison’s voice was sharp. “I know.”

She snapped to the secretary. “Call campus security and the school resource officer.”

The secretary’s hands shook as she picked up the phone.

Rowan sat in a chair like his legs stopped working.

I crouched beside him. “Look at me.”

Rowan’s eyes were wet. “I’m sorry.”

“You warned me,” I said. “You’re the reason we’re not walking into a trap blind.”

Rowan swallowed hard. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“He’s not,” I said, steady. “Because adults are finally watching.”

Rowan’s laugh was broken. “Adults never watch.”

I tilted my head toward the window where two security staff were now moving fast across the courtyard. “They are today.”

Five minutes later, we heard shouting in the hallway.

Then a slammed door.

Then Principal Harrison’s voice—hard and furious. “Stop resisting!”

Rowan gripped the chair arms.

I stood, ready, but didn’t rush out.

A moment later, two security staff walked Martin Pike into the office by the elbows.

Martin’s hair was damp with sweat. His face was red with rage.

Behind them, Tanner stumbled in, eyes wide, hands up like he wanted no part of it.

Martin saw me and Rowan and lunged, but the guards held him.

“Let me go!” Martin shouted. “He set me up!”

Principal Harrison marched in behind them holding a phone—someone else’s phone.

“This yours?” she asked Martin.

Martin’s mouth opened, then snapped shut.

Principal Harrison turned the phone screen toward the security officer. “Play it.”

The officer hit play.

A video filled the screen: Martin in the gym, talking to the camera, smirking.

“Listen up,” Martin said on the video. “New kid thinks he’s tough. We’re gonna make him swing first.”

The video panned to Tanner. Tanner looked uncomfortable.

Martin on video: “Rowan’s the bait. We scare him, Jacob comes running, and then—boom—Jacob’s a violent psycho on camera.”

The video ended.

The office went silent in the way a room goes silent right before consequences drop.

Tanner blurted, “I didn’t want to do it! He made me record—”

Martin screamed, “Shut up!”

Principal Harrison didn’t even look at Tanner. Her eyes stayed on Martin like he was something she’d finally decided to remove.

“You threatened a student,” she said. “You attempted to orchestrate an assault. And you recorded your plan.”

Martin’s voice cracked with fury. “That’s not illegal!”

The school resource officer—a white American man in a plain uniform—stepped forward. “Actually, threatening someone to force another person to act can be.”

Martin’s face went slack for half a second.

Then he snapped back. “My dad—”

Principal Harrison cut him off. “Your dad is on his way. So is district administration.”

Martin thrashed, desperate. “You can’t expel me! I have scouts! I’m—”

Principal Harrison’s voice was quiet, which somehow made it worse for him. “You’re done here.”

Martin’s eyes darted to me, wild. “You think you won because you know karate or whatever?”

I didn’t smile. I didn’t gloat.

I stepped closer, stopping well out of his reach. “It’s Taekwondo,” I said evenly. “And I didn’t win because I can fight. I won because you finally got caught.”

Rowan stood up behind me, shaking, but standing.

Martin’s face twisted. “You’re nothing.”

Rowan’s voice trembled, but it came out clear. “No. You’re nothing.”

That hit Martin like a slap.

He surged again. The guards tightened.

The officer said, “Martin Pike, you’re being escorted off campus. Your parents will be contacted regarding potential charges.”

Martin’s voice went hoarse. “This is crap! This is—”

Principal Harrison pointed at the door. “Take him.”

As they dragged him out, Martin shouted one last time at the hallway full of watching students.

“He’s gonna hit somebody someday! He’s dangerous!”

I raised my voice just enough to carry. “I haven’t hit anyone.”

The crowd murmured—agreement, recognition, relief.

Because it was true.

And everyone knew it now.

An hour later, Principal Harrison brought us back into her office.

District officials were on speakerphone. Martin’s father’s voice was loud in the background, trying to negotiate like consequences were a car price.

Principal Harrison didn’t bend.

“Expulsion is finalized,” she said. “Effective immediately.”

Martin’s father barked, “You can’t do this!”

A district woman’s voice cut in. “We can, and we are.”

Principal Harrison looked at me and Rowan after she ended the call.

“Both of you,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

Rowan’s voice was small. “Is it really over?”

Principal Harrison nodded. “It’s over. The no-contact order becomes a trespass warning. If he comes on campus, he’ll be arrested.”

Rowan’s shoulders collapsed with relief, like his body finally allowed it.

I exhaled slow, the tension leaving my chest in layers.

Principal Harrison slid a new form across the desk. “Jacob, I’d like you to join our student advisory group on campus safety. Not as a symbol. As a voice.”

I looked at Rowan. “Only if Rowan comes too.”

Rowan startled. “Me?”

Principal Harrison’s expression softened. “Yes. You.”

Rowan’s eyes filled again, but this time he didn’t look away. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. Okay.”

When we walked out of the office, the hallway felt different again.

Not because people were staring.

Because they weren’t.

They went back to their lives, and that was the best part.

Outside, Rowan stopped under the awning by the buses.

He stared at the sky like he’d never seen it without a shadow in front of it.

Then he looked at me. “You didn’t even fight.”

I shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

Rowan laughed—an actual laugh—and wiped his face. “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?”

Rowan’s voice steadied. “He always told me nobody would ever pick me.”

I nodded. “He was wrong.”

Rowan swallowed, then held out his hand like it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

I shook it.

Rowan squeezed hard. “Thanks for not being scared.”

I held his gaze. “I was scared.”

Rowan blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just didn’t let him drive.”

Rowan let out a long breath.

We got on the bus.

And behind us, Oakridge High kept moving—without Martin Pike at the center of it.

Justice didn’t come from a punch.

It came from proof, a plan backfiring, and a bully finally losing the one thing he lived on: control.