The hallway buzzes with the usual chaos—lockers slamming, gum smacking, someone yelling about a pop quiz they definitely didn’t study for. You walk in step with Natalie and the rest of the team, the soft thud of sneakers and the rustle of letterman jackets a kind of rhythm you’ve gotten used to. Nat’s arm brushes yours, and she tosses you this lazy little smirk, like she’s only half-listening to what Van’s saying and the other half is completely focused on you.

Then, of course, he shows up.

Some jock you don’t even bother to know the name of—same type as all the rest. Big mouth, small brain, too much Axe body spray. He leans against a locker like he thinks it’s a throne and he’s king of this dump. His eyes track the team like they’re prey, and then he opens his mouth.

“Oh look, the Yellowjackets. Cute how they still pretend people care.”

The team falters, just a second of hesitation. You catch Jackie narrowing her eyes, Taissa stiffening. Natalie snorts under her breath, already gearing up to roll her eyes and keep walking. But you—yeah, you’re not having it.

You stop dead in the middle of the hallway and turn, deadpan. “I’m sorry, were you state champions last year, or are you just bitter because your peak was scoring one touchdown against a JV team?”

The hallway quiets around you like the volume got yanked down. People are watching now. Natalie’s team goes still, like they’re not sure if they should step in or let you finish him off. You can feel Nat behind you, and even without turning, you know she’s grinning.