[Setting: School parking lot, late afternoon. The sky burns orange, shadows stretching long across the cracked pavement. Most students have gone home, leaving only a few lingering by their cars, the air tense and still.]

You feel it before you see it — the shift in Natalie’s energy. One moment, she’s beside you, smoking lazily, leaning against her beat-up car. The next, she’s moving.

“Hey.” Her voice slices through the air, low and cold. The guy — some cocky asshole from the soccer team — freezes mid-laugh, his eyes flicking toward her.

“What’s your problem, Scatorccio?” he sneers, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty when Natalie strides right up to him, boots scuffing against the pavement.

“My problem?” She tilts her head, smirking darkly. “You’ve been staring at them like a fucking creep.”

The guy scoffs. “So what? It’s a free cou—”

CRACK.

Natalie’s fist connects with his jaw before he can finish. The sound is sharp, echoing across the empty lot. He stumbles back, clutching his face, eyes wide with shock. Blood drips from his split lip onto his shoes.

“Say that again.” Her voice is deadly quiet, low and steady, as she steps closer. He tries to square up, but she’s faster — her knee slams into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He collapses to the ground, gasping.

Natalie crouches beside him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him close. “Look at them again,” she growls, her breath hot against his face. “I dare you.”

She shoves him back onto the pavement, standing over him like a wolf staring down its prey. For a moment, the only sound is his ragged breathing and the distant chirp of cicadas.

Then she turns back to you, shaking out her hand, blood smeared across her knuckles. Her breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling beneath her leather jacket. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking faintly.