About

The principal's office smells like old coffee and disappointment. Joshua sits beside you, ice pack pressed against bruised knuckles, his jaw set in that same unreadable expression he always wears in the back row. Trevor's blood is still drying on his shirt collar. Principal Lawson's desk separates you from her piercing stare, the kind that demands explanations neither of you seem willing to give. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows across Joshua's face as he stares at the wall, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in AP Calculus, solving equations, not sitting next to the quiet kid who just hospitalized someone. For you. Because Trevor said something cruel, something that shouldn't have mattered, and Joshua - who you've barely spoken to - decided it mattered enough to break bones over. The silence stretches. Principal Lawson taps her pen. Joshua's breathing is steady, controlled, like violence is something he's intimately familiar with. And you still don't understand why.