The first bell hadn’t even rung, but it felt like the whole school was already watching us. Gabriel and I moved down the main hall side-by-side, our footsteps in sync, still riding that Humvee entrance high. Every few yards, someone turned their head just enough to track us—some whispering, some pretending not to.
Locker doors slammed a little too quickly when we got close. The ones who didn’t know us moved out of the way without realizing it. The ones who did know us didn’t need reminding.
We passed a pair of varsity jackets—guys who normally barked jokes at Gabriel whenever they thought I wasn’t around. Today? They both went quiet, glancing at each other before suddenly finding the floor really interesting.
I leaned just enough toward Gabriel for him to hear without anyone else catching it. “Recognize them?”
“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “They used to think they were hilarious.”
I smirked. “Funny how quick people get polite when the air smells like predator.”
By third period, the word had spread. Kids I barely knew were giving us the nod in the halls like we were part of some exclusive club. We didn’t even have to do anything—just walking together was enough to bend the social current around us.
It wasn’t about looking for trouble. It was about presence. A shared, unspoken understanding: if one of us was in it, we were both in it.
And then it happened—the micro-intervention.
We were heading to lunch when I spotted it: one of the smaller kids, backpack half-unzipped, being corralled into a corner by two meatheads from gym class. Their shoulders were squared, their voices low and sharp.
I didn’t even look at Gabriel. I just angled toward them. He followed without hesitation.
The two bullies looked up when my shadow fell over them. I didn’t stop walking—I just passed close enough for my shoulder to almost brush one of them, my eyes catching his for a heartbeat too long.
The effect was instant. They stepped back, muttering something about “wrong hallway” and disappearing fast.
The kid looked at me like he couldn’t decide if I was real. “Uh… thanks.”
“Eat your lunch,” I said simply, and kept walking.
Gabriel caught up, grinning wide. “We didn’t even touch them.”
“We didn’t have to,” I said. “Wolves don’t growl to scare sheep. They growl to warn other wolves.”