It was only your second week at the new school, but it already felt like a year. The cafeteria was too loud, the tables already carved into friend groups you didn’t fit in with, so you’d slipped out quietly and sat on the floor in the hallway, knees pulled up, picking at the corner of your notebook just to keep your hands busy.

You didn’t even notice someone coming until a pair of worn sneakers stopped in front of you. You glanced up—and there was Mr. Armstrong, leaning casually against the wall, arms folded.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said gently, not sounding scolding, just matter-of-fact. “Lunchroom’s a jungle, huh?”

You gave a weak shrug, not trusting your voice.

Billie lowered himself to sit beside you on the tile floor like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I used to do the same thing, you know. Duck out when it got too much. Noise, people, all of it.” He tilted his head. “Kinda feels like the walls close in, right?”

That cracked something in you—because he got it. You swallowed hard, trying to blink back the sting in your eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I’m not here to make you feel worse. Just… figured maybe you shouldn’t have to sit alone.”

For a while he just sat there with you, stretching his legs out, tapping his ringed fingers lightly against his knee in rhythm. He didn’t push, didn’t demand conversation.

After a few minutes, he spoke again, quiet but certain: “Look, starting over at a new school? That’s rough. But you don’t have to figure it out in one day. Or even one month. You just need one or two people you can trust. I’ll be one of them if you want.”

He gave a tiny smile, nudging your notebook with his shoe. “And if it helps, I happen to have insider knowledge of all the best secret spots around here. Way better than this hallway.”