By the time day three came, the classroom smelled like scorched shoes and dried fear.
No one had left.
No one dared.
The door was barricaded with desks and chairs, but they all knew — if one of those molten things was outside, it wouldn't stop it. Still, the fear of moving through the halls kept everyone frozen.
And more than fear… it was hunger now.
Belly-clawing, mouth-drying, muscle-aching hunger.
Samuel Li felt it too, but he was used to that emptiness. His dad taught him control — how to conserve energy, how to wait.
So, he waited.
And when the second day passed, and the third sun-scorched dawn crept in through the cracked windows, Samuel made his move.
He reached into his bag, took out his carefully packed lunch — a turkey sandwich, a small apple, a sealed bottle of water, and from deep at the bottom, one military MRE: spaghetti with meat sauce.
He didn't flaunt it. Just unwrapped the sandwich slowly, quietly.
The second he bit in, eyes snapped toward him.
They stared like wolves.
Desperate, wild, starving wolves.
Then a girl gasped.
"I… I brought chips."
Another boy blinked. "I had a lunchbox. I… it's still in my bag."
And then it hit them — they had food too. Not much, but enough to make the difference.
A half-eaten granola bar. A packet of crackers. A small soda can. One kid even had a bento box — slightly spoiled, but edible.
They pulled it out fast, clutching their food like treasure.
And everything changed.
---
They stopped being classmates.
They became factions.
People started grouping up — those with food, those without. Whispers began. Side-eyes. Suspicion.
"Why didn't you say you had that earlier?"
"I just… forgot, okay?!"
But they hadn't forgotten.
They were just scared.
Now, food meant power.
---
Samuel stayed quiet. He didn't offer anything. Not because he was cruel — but because he knew. Once you shared, once the scent of real food was out… you'd never be safe.
They didn't understand that.
But one person did.
---
Big Mike.
He was in the same class. Everyone knew him — the kid who always brought way too much food. Two bags, every single day.
His first bag was normal:
Textbooks, notebooks, pencils, maybe a bag of chips, a bottle of water, and a can of soda.
But the second bag?
It was the size of a pillow and stuffed.
Chocolate bars. Protein bars. Canned soda and bottled juice. Chips of every kind. A food hoard he never shared — but never needed to.
Until now.
Now, Big Mike was king.
Not of the school. Not officially.
But in this classroom?
Big Mike ruled.
He didn't talk much the first two days. He watched. Waited.
But when Samuel ate, when the other students followed — something inside Mike snapped.
Because Samuel had peaches.
A small, cold can of syrupy golden peaches from his MRE pack.
And that was Big Mike's favorite food.
---
He didn't say anything.
Not yet.
But as Samuel sat in the corner, eating slowly, trying not to draw attention… he could feel Mike's eyes on him.
Not hungry.
Jealous.
---