Overdrive!

I didn't even realize when I passed out last night.

The last thing I remembered was the dull ache from where Venny kicked me, the heat of the spilled curry, and the rage boiling just under my skin. I guess throwing that curry back at him must've shocked them. At least enough to stop for a moment.

A moment was all I needed.

But anger fades. Pain stays.

I woke up curled on the couch. My neck was stiff, my back screaming in protest.

The spring rolls I had left for Lyra still sat outside her door—untouched. Figures.

Buzz

3 missed calls. From: Dad

I wiped my face with my sleeve and tapped his name.

"Hey Dad, where were you? Why didn't you come home last night?"

His voice came through the line casually, like nothing was wrong. Business trip. Last minute. Something about clients in another city.

Right.

I hung up and sat in silence for a while.

"At least someone in this house has purpose…"

Then I glanced at the time.

"F**k! I'm late!"

By the time I reached school, first period was nearly over. Lyra was gone. I didn't even hear her leave. She must've stepped over me while I slept.

I slumped into my seat, my body still sore from yesterday. My cheek had a faint bruise from when Venny's shoe grazed it. Nobody asked. Not the teacher, not the classmates. I wasn't surprised.

"They're probably saving it for lunch," I muttered. "Like always."

When the bell rang, I didn't hesitate.

I slipped out of school like a shadow and made my way to the convenience store just across the block. The same one I'd run to after getting beat up the first time. My safe zone.

Or it used to be.

There was a new cashier today.

Tall, lean. Casual uniform sleeves rolled up. Hair tied back loosely like he didn't care but somehow made it work. He had this face—sharp but calm.

"Seriously, how is life so unfair?" I mumbled under my breath, grabbing a sandwich.

I paid, nodded at the cashier, and moved to the corner to eat. My stomach hadn't seen food since yesterday.

I unwrapped the sandwich, about to take my first bite—

WHAM!

My food splattered on the floor.

"…F**k!"

I didn't even have to turn around.

I knew that sound. That smell.

Raphael.

He worked with the bullies. He was the collector—the one who gathered the money and 'tribute' from all the weaker students. Including me, once.

I thought I was off their radar after yesterday.

I guess not.

"Who's gonna pay for my sandwich now?" I muttered, half to myself.

Raphael didn't say a word.

He just stepped forward.

That look in his eyes—cold, mechanical. I knew what was coming. I could see it in his stance. That wide step. The shift in weight.

A sidekick. Straight to my jaw.

I'd seen him knock guys out with it. One hit. Done.

My legs refused to move. My mind screamed.

I'm f**ked.

KICK

"AH—!"

…But it never landed.

I blinked.

The world came back into focus, and there he was.

"The handsome cashier, sh*t, i said that out loud"

Standing between us, one hand wrapped around Raphael's ankle mid-air, like he was holding a grocery bag.

"…Sorry," the cashier said, unfazed. "I'm not into boys."

Then his eyes narrowed. "If you two are gonna have a lovers' spat, do it outside. You're scaring off the customers."

He released Raphael's leg like it was nothing, and the guy stumbled back.

"What the hell…" Raphael muttered, stunned.

I stared at the cashier like he was some kind of glitch in the universe.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why did it feel like—for the first time—I was safe?