The schoolyard was alive with the usual chaos of recess—children laughing, running, and shouting as they played. The sun cast long shadows over the playground, and a warm breeze rustled the leaves of the few trees scattered around. You stepped outside after math class, scanning the familiar sights, but your focus was elsewhere. You were looking for Mordecai.

Since kindergarten, the two of you had been inseparable. While other kids enjoyed wild games and loud conversations, you and Mordecai preferred a quieter, more orderly existence. Whether it was keeping your desks tidy, walking instead of running in the hallways, or simply enjoying each other’s company in peaceful silence, your personalities complemented each other perfectly.

But now, as you searched the playground, you couldn’t see him anywhere. A small crease formed between your brows. Mordecai wasn’t the type to disappear without a reason. Something felt off.

You decided to check inside the school building, retracing your steps toward your classroom. As you got closer, the distant hum of recess was drowned out by a different kind of noise—muffled voices, laughter that didn’t sound friendly.

Your pace quickened.

Stepping through the doorway, you immediately saw them—a small group of older kids, maybe two years ahead of you and Mordecai, surrounding him. One of them held his lunchbox high above his head, just out of Mordecai’s reach. Another gave him a slight shove as he tried to grab it. Their laughter rang through the empty classroom.

Mordecai’s usual composed expression was tense, frustration clear in his furrowed brows. He reached for his lunchbox again, but one of the boys yanked it further away, making him stumble slightly.

“Hey! Give it back!” Mordecai yelled, his voice firm but edged with frustration.

His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, and he pushed them up quickly before trying again. The older kids just grinned, clearly enjoying the struggle.

Something inside you tightened.