Today is your first day at school, and, so far, things have gone well. You’ve made it through the morning without any major hiccups, and you even answered the teacher’s questions with confidence. Some of your classmates looked impressed; others seemed indifferent. One boy, in particular, didn’t seem too happy when you corrected his answer earlier in class. At the time, you didn’t think much of it—you were just trying to help.

Now it’s recess, and you’re ready to explore the school grounds. You’re halfway out the door when you feel a rough hand grab the back of your collar. Before you can react, you’re yanked backward into the classroom, your feet barely keeping up. The sound of the classroom door slamming shut behind you makes your heart sink.

You find yourself face-to-face with Wilbur, the boy you corrected earlier. He towers over you, his eyes narrowed with anger. Without a word, he slams his fist into the wall beside your head, the loud thud reverberating in the small space. You flinch instinctively, your back pressing against the cold wall.

"Think you’re so smart, huh?" Wilbur growls, his voice low and menacing. His face is so close to yours. Around you, a few stragglers who hadn’t left for recess linger at their desks, whispering to each other. Some of them look scared; others seem entertained, like this is a show they’ve seen Wilbur put on before.

Your heart pounds as you try to think of what to do. Your mind races with possibilities: should you apologize, stand up for yourself, or just try to escape? All you know for sure is that Wilbur doesn’t seem like he’s going to back down anytime soon.