Brandon's POV
The chatter from inside the school faded the moment we slipped through the back door. the sound dulled instantly, replaced by the muted hum of the street beyond the chain-link fence. The breeze outside was cooler, carrying with it the faint smell of exhaust from passing cars and the scent of warm asphalt.
Jason and I cut across the cracked pavement toward our usual spot — a low brick wall tucked behind the Photography and Film block. It was hidden enough to give us some privacy, shaded by an overgrown almond tree on one side and backed by a row of dumpsters that no one ever touched because the janitor was religious about keeping them clean.
The wall was warm from the afternoon sun, the heat seeping into my palms as I hopped up first and stretched my legs out, bracing my hands behind me. Jason followed, settling beside me with a quiet exhale.
For a few minutes, we didn't speak — just stared ahead, watching the way the dust floated lazily in the golden light.
