Monday mornings at this school always felt like the hallways had been built too narrow on purpose—press of bodies, voices too loud, lockers slamming like someone was scoring points. Gabriel and I moved through it side by side, our stride matched without even thinking about it.
He’d grown bolder since the weekend. Not loud or cocky, but sharper at the edges. Eyes up, chin lifted, like he wasn’t expecting someone to take a shot at him every five minutes. I noticed it in the way people looked at him—some curious, some cautious. And in the way he ignored all of them.
We passed a cluster by the trophy case, the kind of guys who never seemed to run out of garbage to say. One of them—a tall, wiry kid with a permanent smirk—turned just as we came up. His shoulder started to dip toward Gabriel in that casual, “oops, didn’t see you” way. I didn’t break stride, just shifted half a step. My eyes caught his a fraction of a second before contact.
Whatever he saw there made his weight falter mid-step. He veered, not enough for anyone else to notice—except Gabriel, who glanced sideways at me.
“You didn’t even touch him,” he murmured once we were clear.
I smirked. “Didn’t have to.”
His smile was small, but there was pride in it.
First period passed in its usual blur of monotone voices and clock-watching. Second dragged. By third, Gabriel was fielding less crap than usual—enough that he leaned back in his seat during study hall and whispered, “You realize they’re starting to avoid me, right?”
I shrugged. “Perks of having a shadow.”
By lunch, we were moving through the cafeteria line when another little moment hit. One of the same guys from the trophy case crew was holding court by the drink cooler, tossing loud comments to his friends. Gabriel reached past him for a milk carton. The guy’s mouth opened like he had something lined up—but the words died as soon as his eyes flicked over to me.
I didn’t snarl. Didn’t say a thing. Just met his gaze for one slow heartbeat.
He stepped back.
We walked away with our trays, found a table near the back. Gabriel set his drink down, grinning now. “You’re like a damn force field.”
I stabbed my fork into the sad excuse for salad. “Nah. Just teaching them new instincts.” “Yeah,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “Ones that stick.”