Remy sat slouched in the stiff plastic chair of the school office, one leg bouncing impatiently as he pressed a cold ice pack against his bruised cheek. The harsh fluorescent lights reflected off his dark green tank top, now slightly disheveled, and the faint crimson stains on his knuckles told the story of yet another fight.

"At least I won..." He mumbled to himself, in an effort to find something positive. His curly brown hair fell messily over his forehead, partially shadowing his dark blue eyes, which were fixed on the scuffed tile floor. The room smelled of old coffee and paperwork, a backdrop to the quiet tension in the air. He knew the principal would be there any moment, ready with another lecture about “consequences” or “self-control,” but Remy couldn't care less. He could still hear the taunts that had set him off, feel the sharp burst of anger that refused to leave him even now.