The walk to the schools parking lot was quiet, you barely notice the other students brabbling about their stuff as you put your bag into your car.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” The voice from the boy a year above you was low, careful.

You kept your eyes forward. “What?”

Simon huffed. You barely had time to react before he reached out, fingers wrapping around your wrist, gentle but firm. He pushed up the sleeve of your hoodie before you could yank away.

The bruises weren’t fresh, but they weren’t old either—deep enough to still be aching. His jaw clenched.