Nolan cracked his knuckles. They didn’t rush over right away.

That was never Tyler’s style. He liked anticipation.

He liked letting the moment ripen, letting the idea of what was coming sink into his victim before the act itself.

Meanwhile, Aaron felt it before he saw it.

That familiar tightening in his chest, the sudden awareness that the laughter nearby didn’t sound friendly anymore.

He kept his eyes down, hoping stupidly that today might be different, that with parents around, teachers nearby, and half the school watching, they wouldn’t dare.

That was his mistake. Bullies loved an audience.

The first move was small, almost harmless-looking.

Tyler strolled past, accidentally on purpose, kicking Aaron’s water bottle so it rolled down the slight hill and spilled into the dirt.

“Oops,” Tyler said, fake surprise dripping from his voice. A few students laughed nervously.

Aaron stood quickly, muttering, “It’s fine,” even though it wasn’t.

He reached for the bottle, his hands shaking, but Tyler stepped on it, crushing the plastic under his shoe.

“Relax,” Tyler said. “It’s a picnic. We’re just having fun.”

“Fun?” That word echoed in Aaron’s head as Jake circled behind him, blocking his path back to the teachers.

Nolan pulled out his phone, already recording.

Aaron looked around, his eyes searching for an adult, for anyone, but people were watching from a distance now, frozen in that awful space between curiosity and fear.

No one stepped in.

Tyler leaned close enough that Aaron could smell the soda on his breath.

“You always bring your own food?” he asked. “What? Afraid we poisoned the hot dogs?” He reached into Aaron’s backpack without permission, yanking it open and pulling out the carefully wrapped lunch.

Aaron’s breath hitched.

“Please,” he said quietly.

“Give it back.”

The word please tasted bitter in his mouth, but he said it anyway.

Tyler ignored him, tearing the napkin open and unfolding it. The note fluttered to the ground, unnoticed by everyone except Aaron.

Tyler glanced at it, smirked, then crumpled it in his fist.

“Oh,” he mocked.

“Mommy packed you lunch.”

The laughter around them grew louder now, less nervous and more entertained.

That was when something shifted, not in Aaron, but in the crowd. A line had been crossed, and even those who didn’t know why could feel it.

Tyler wasn’t done. “Hey, everyone!” he shouted, raising the lunch high above his head.

“Guess what the quiet kid eats?”