“Jaydeeen~”

  Ash’s eyes twitched.

  Ugh.

  Misha. Or Nisha. He didn’t know, didn’t care. Her voice alone was enough to give people migraines.

  She leaned over her desk from the row behind, calling out again in that fake sing-song tone. “Jayden~!”

  Ash looked up slightly. Just enough to see the boy sitting in front of him tense.

  Jayden.

  Always silent. He wore the same grey hoodie every week. Pale knuckles. Had Headphones around his neck but never in his ears. Ash had never once heard him speak. Never once saw him raise a hand or make eye contact with anyone.

  And for some reason, Misha had decided he was her personal entertainment.

  Seriously. People like that exist. Stop messing with them.

  “Jaydeeen,” she cooed again, fake-pouting. “Why don’t you ever talk to me? You don’t like me? Or is it because you don’t understand English?”

  Ash frowned.

  Here we go again.

  Jayden didn’t move. His shoulders rose slightly, as if he were holding in a breath.

  “Let’s share numbers, yeah?” Misha snorted. “Wait. Do you even have a phone? Or do they not give those to charity cases?”

  Ash flinched.

  Seriously?

  He looked at Miss Emma. Still flipping pages at the podium. Her perfectly manicured fingers running over her copy of the textbook like it was a treasure.

  You hear that, right? Say something. She’s not even whispering that low.

  But Miss Emma was too busy explaining metaphors about clouds and sorrow and romanticized suffering.

  Misha giggled under her breath and leaned forward again.

  Ash watched her poke Jayden in the arm with the tip of her pencil.

  Why isn’t he reacting?

  Ash shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing. Jayden’s body was so still it almost looked fake. Like he was trying to disappear into his own spine.

  Then came Misha’s next low whisper.

  “I saw your bag last week. It’s literally torn. That brand doesn’t even exist anymore. I bet you got it from a garbage dump. Do you even eat lunch or just pretend so you don’t embarrass yourself with your poor people food?”

  Ash’s jaw tightened.

  What the hell is wrong with her?

  He couldn’t look away. Jayden’s hand twitched slightly on the desk, curling into a tight fist. His neck was bent so low it looked painful. His shoulders started to shake.

  He was trembling.

  Ash felt a heavy drop sink in his chest. He’d seen this before. The kind of silence that comes right before someone falls apart.

  And still- Miss Emma kept reading.

  Ash wasn’t surprised.

  Because adults never stopped this kind of thing.

  They just watched. Or looked away. Or pretended it didn’t exist.

  “It’s just teasing.”

  “Don’t take it personally.”

  “Kids are mean sometimes.”

  No one ever said what it really was.

  Cruel. Rotting. Brutal.

  The kind of thing that stains people forever.

  Ash knew.

  Because he’d seen it in someone else.

  Blake. Back when he was the school’s golden tyrant.

  Ash had hated him.

  Hated him so much he’d sent threatening notes for months just to make him stop.

  Never said anything to his face. Never confronted him. Just… kept tugging on his threads from the shadows.

  People thought once you stop bullying, the pain vanishes too.

  But it lingers.

  It changes people.

  Jayden wasn’t being tortured like Blake had tortured others. But it didn’t matter.

  Cruelty doesn’t have to be loud to be lethal.

  And even Misha’s petty pokes; they still hurt.

  They still rewired your brain into thinking: I deserve this. I am this.

  Ash looked at Jayden.

  “Ugh, Asher!” Misha suddenly whined, rolling her eyes. “Tell Jayden I’m calling him. He’s literally acting like he’s deaf.”

  Ash didn’t move.

  Didn’t blink.

  Didn’t give her a shred of attention.

  He just stared straight ahead. At Jayden’s shaking shoulders. At the crumpled fist on the desk.

  SLAM.

  The room jumped.

  Even Ash flinched.

  What the-?!

  Miss Emma had slammed her poetry book down so hard the table rattled. Her gaze was no longer mild. It was on fire.

  “MISHA.”

  Oh. It’s her.

  Ash sat up straight in his seat, eyes wide. The whole class was frozen.

  Miss Emma marched across the room like a storm in heels. Every step punctuated with anger.

  She stopped right at Misha’s desk. Her shadow covered the girl’s notes.

  “Get. Up,” she ordered. “Say what you just said again. Out loud. Right now.”

  Oh?

  Misha’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

  “You think you’re clever?” Miss Emma hissed. “You think humiliating someone is funny? Makes you look powerful?”

  Ash’s heart thudded in his chest.

  Is this real?

  Miss Emma turned slightly, voice rising- not just to Misha now, but to the whole room.

  “Do you know how many kids are out there, killing themselves because of words like yours? Because of people like you?”

  Her voice cracked, just a little.

  “Do you think this is a joke? You think this is harmless? You think this ends in the classroom? People- children- are ending their lives because they believe they’re worthless. Because bullies like you convinced them.”

  She turned back to Misha.

  Ash couldn’t remember breathing.

  Jayden still hadn’t moved. His head was so low now, and his shoulders were shaking harder.

  Miss Emma’s face softened for the first time. Her voice dropped.

  She knelt just slightly by his desk, not touching him. Just close enough.

  “Jayden,” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t reply. But his head tilted just a bit. Like he was listening.

  “I’m here,” she said gently. “If you want to step outside, you can. Or you can stay. I don’t really mind.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Still no words.

  But his fist slowly- so slowly- unclenched.

  Ash stared at him. Then at Miss Emma.

  And something inside him shifted.

  Because for the first time in his life, a teacher stood up.

  Not just scolding, not just for show. But genuinely angry at cruelty.

  Protective.

  Ash smiled internally.

  Finally, Someone who stands up.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Ash stepped out of the suffocating classroom into the open hallway, the shift in air hitting him like a wave. The corridors buzzed with the usual noise- scuffed shoes, locker slams, casual chatter.

  He rubbed his face once, then shook his half-empty bottle. The cap was loose. His mind wasn’t on it.

  He wasn’t sure where it was, actually.

  “-seriously, I’m not kidding. He literally doesn’t talk. Like a freak.”

  Ash’s head jerked up.

  That voice.

  Misha.

  He followed the sound before he could even think about it. His footsteps were slow, quiet. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

  He just could not hear that annoying voice.

  The water fountain was around the corner. He stood just before it, back against the wall. The voices carried from the hallway near the back exit, past the art rooms- one of those dead zones no teacher ever came around during break.

  “Why do you wear that hoodie every day? Huh? You trying to hide something? You got rashes or something?”

  Another laugh. Different girl. Lighter voice. “Or tattoos. Bet he has like a giant Hello Kitty on his back.”

  “Gross,” Misha giggled. “No wonder you don’t talk. If I looked like that, I wouldn’t either.”

  Ash exhaled slowly, his hands curling tight around the bottle.

  Keep yourself out of their business, Asher.

  He told himself to walk away.

  To keep walking.

  He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t here to rescue people. This wasn’t his fight.

  But then he heard it.

  Misha again. Mocking. But this time, it was quieter. Darker.

  Like she was leaning in real close.

  What’s she up to?

  “Why don’t you ever talk back, huh? What, scared you’ll cry?”

  Pause.

  Then-

  “Why are you even still here? Seriously. Trash like you… you shouldn't be. You know there are train tracks nearby, right? You should go pay them a visit.”

  I- What did she say?....Train tracks?

  Ash didn’t move.

  He didn’t breathe.

  His blood felt like it stopped. Froze over.

  Did she just-

  He peeked, slowly. Just past the wall. Not enough to be seen.

  Did she just tell Jayden to kill himself indirectly?

  Jayden was standing stiff against the wall, the grey hoodie slumped around him. One girl stood nearby, arms crossed, the other laughing behind her sleeve.

  But Jayden wasn’t looking down anymore.

  He was staring at Misha.

  And it wasn’t blank.

  It was sharp.

  Not angry. Not hurt. But something worse.

  Like he’d heard that sentence before.

  Like it had been sitting inside him all this time, waiting to be confirmed.

  Ash’s vision flickered.

  Train tracks.

  He knew those words.

  He knew that cold, metal sting of standing too close to the edge, the way your chest hollowed out.

  He remembered the gravel under his shoes. The hum in the distance.

  He remembered thinking- Just five more steps. Just five.

  He remembered Lucas’s voice.

  How it had cut through everything like a crack of thunder.

  “Are you insane?!”

  He hadn’t turned around. He didn’t want to.

  He wanted to go.

  Ash blinked hard.

  His knuckles were white against the water bottle.

  Jayden was still staring at Misha. His eyes were wide now. Something like panic was bleeding into his face. His breathing was getting shaky.

  He stepped forward.

  He didn’t even remember telling his feet to move. But they did.

  “Asher?”

  Misha blinked in confusion as he walked into view. She tilted her head, smiling.

  “You need something?”

  Ash stepped into the light like it owed him something.

  He didn’t reply to Misha immediately. Just looked at her. Then at Jayden. Then back.

  Calmly. Coolly. Like a fire warming up in a locked room.

  "You need something?" she repeated, still wearing that smile.

  Ash tilted his head. "Yeah," he said. "A trash bin. I thought I heard one talking."

  Her friends let out a collective gasp- more from instinct than actual amusement- and Jayden blinked. Misha’s smile flickered, but she didn’t drop it.

  "Oh wow. This doesn’t concern you."

  "It does now," Ash said, folding his arms. His voice was flat, but steady. "You told him to go to the train tracks."

  Misha rolled her eyes. "It was a joke. Ever heard of humor? Or is being broke sucking out your personality too?"

  Ash smiled. A slow, dangerous kind of smile.

  Oh, sweetheart. You think this is new.

  He’d had roast battles with Lucas over who had the most cursed YouTube search history. Ash’s was filled with study lessons, Lucas’ was filled with cringey funny videos, tucked in with fighting lessons.

  He’d gone toe-to-toe with Jason arguing whether pineapple on pizza was a crime or a revolution. Jason almost killed him right there when Ash said it was a crime.

  This is going to be child’s play.

  "You sure it’s a joke? ‘Cause from here, it looks like you’re just projecting all the insecurities your money can’t cover."

  Misha’s eyes narrowed. "What insecurities? I’m rich, pretty, and not a social reject. Unlike your little mute friend."

  "Rich and still pressed for attention?" Ash replied. "You know, usually when people have everything, they’re a little more secure in themselves. But you’re out here trying to body shame a guy for wearing a hoodie."

  The girl next to her giggled and immediately tried to cover it up.

  Yup. Hits the spot.

  Misha folded her arms, her voice rising. "Don’t act like you’re above it. We all know what you are. You don’t even belong here, Ash."

  Ha. Ash?

  "First things first,” Ash looked at Misha, eyes narrowing like you serious right now?

  “The name's Asher for you. The only people who can call me 'Ash’ are my friends and family. Last time I checked, you were none of them.”

  Misha rolled her eyes. Ash didn't concern himself with her. Just added, “Second, my grades got me here. Yours probably came with a receipt."

  "You're just poor," she snapped. "You’ll never get it."

  Ash’s smile widened. "Oh? Not to brag, but I’m not that poor. I have enough money to buy your designer bags and buy you too with my leftover change."

  One of the girls choked on a laugh.

  Jayden blinked again.

  Ash shrugged. "Just so you know, you will always be what you do, and what you do isn't really pretty.”

  Misha gasped loudly. Her hands flew to her chest as if she was offended, “Did you just say I am not pretty?”

  Ha. Knew she was insecure.

  “Whatever,” he turned to leave, “Oh, and your shoelaces undone.”

  Misha looked down, instinctively-

  Her shoes were perfectly tied.

  But the damage was done.

  One of her friends snorted behind her palm. The other had turned away entirely, pretending to check her phone, trying too hard not to laugh.

  Her cheeks flushed a violent red, lips parted in shock like she’d just been slapped.

  For a second, she looked like she was about to say something. But then she didn’t.

  Ash turned around without waiting.

  He didn’t need one.

  He barely glanced over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, and this time it wasn’t to Misha.

  Jayden hesitated.

  Ash paused mid-step, still not facing him. “Let’s go.”

  Jayden followed.

  They walked in silence for a while. Past the lockers, down the stairs, out into the breeze of the side courtyard where no one ever sat.

  Ash didn’t care. He leaned back against the wall, taking a long sip from his water bottle.

  Jayden stood next to him. Quiet. Still.

  Then, softly-

  “Thanks.”

  Ash lowered the bottle. “Don’t thank me.”

  Oh my- This is my first time hearing him. Is that progress?!

  Jayden glanced at him, confused.

  Ash tilted his head back against the wall, eyes skyward.

  “They’re just petty people looking for someone to bleed on. They want reactions. They want someone to feel smaller so they feel big.”

  “You don’t owe them your silence.”

  He didn’t look at Jayden as he said it. “And you sure as hell don’t owe them your life.”

  A pause.

  Ash exhaled.

  “Don’t go to the train tracks. Next time stand up.”

  Jayden didn’t respond.

  Ash closed his eyes for a second.

  He hadn’t planned to step in.

  Wasn’t trying to be a hero.

  But he remembered the way the train tracks looked. If Lucas hadn’t shown up that day…

  No.

  Ash swallowed. Opened his eyes.

  He was still here.

  And so was Jayden.

  Ash glanced sideways. “Also, I ignore Misha too when she calls me during classes. It gets on her nerves.”

  Jayden huffed out the quietest laugh.

  Ash smiled.

  Good.

  Still.

  Ash felt the itch creeping in.

  That familiar, horrible feeling of not knowing what to say next.

  I am not good at this. Not the social stuff.

  He could talk to Jason. Lucas. That was different. Those were people who’d seen him fall off cafeteria benches and threatened to kill him for no reasons at all.

  Jayden was new territory.

  And Ash was suddenly hyper aware of the way he was standing.

  Too stiff. Too casual. Were my arms folded? Should I be making eye contact? Was my voice too serious? Was I being rude?

  Okay.

  Abort.

  Ash cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, trying to keep the heat out of his face. “Just don’t let them get to you.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply.

  He just started walking.

  Damn.

  Am I-

  Am I getting cooler?!