Noah Cross always walked with his head down. Not because he was hiding something, but because it was safer that way. When you looked people in the eyes, they noticed you. And if they noticed you, they remembered you. For Noah, being remembered never brought anything good.
At eighteen, he looked younger than most freshmen. His body was small, his bones light, and his voice quiet enough that even teachers sometimes mistook him for a middle schooler. His school ID did little to help. Most people ignored it. Some laughed. Others made jokes he had heard a thousand times before. He did not argue. He never did. There was no point in standing up for himself when no one was listening.
Noah's life had become a pattern. Wake up. Walk to school. Stay silent. Avoid conflict. Get through the day. Return home. His world was gray and still, like a photograph frozen in time. And though he never said it out loud, deep down he believed that if he stayed small enough, if he became invisible enough, he might be left alone.
Roosevelt High was a place of noise and movement. Students poured through its halls in messy, restless tides. Laughter echoed. Lockers slammed shut. Teachers shouted over chatter. But Noah always moved like a ghost, slipping through the cracks between crowds, keeping to the edges, seeking spaces where no one would bother him.
He had found a few safe places. The second floor stairwell near the art room was usually empty after second period. The back corner of the library remained quiet during lunch. Behind the gym's storage room was a spot he called the shadow seat, where an old bench sat half hidden behind stacked mats. These were his havens, little pockets of silence in a world that always seemed too loud.
But not even hiding places could keep him safe forever.
They always found him. Dylan Barnes and his friends. The kings of the hallway. The boys who moved like they owned everything they saw. Dylan had a smile that could charm teachers and terrify freshmen. He was tall, broad, and athletic. His voice was deep and sure. People followed him without question. Behind him came Marcus, Jay, and Cole. Together they made up the group everyone avoided but no one stood up to.
To Dylan, Noah was a joke that never stopped being funny. A tiny kid walking through their world like he did not belong. It started with name calling. Then pushing. Then tripping. And now, it had become something meaner. They watched him. They waited. They made games out of how scared he looked.
Noah never fought back. He never raised his voice. He only hoped that one day, maybe they would grow bored and move on. Maybe someone else would catch their attention. Maybe he would get lucky.
That hope disappeared on a Wednesday.
The sky was low and gray that morning, heavy with clouds that had not yet broken. The humidity pressed down like a hand on the back of his neck. It was the kind of day where everything felt slower, like time itself was holding its breath. Noah felt it too, though he could not explain why. The halls seemed louder. The air sharper. It was as if something waited behind every sound.
He made it through most of the day unnoticed. No tripping in the hallway. No thrown pencils. No cruel jokes whispered behind him. But he did not let his guard down. He kept his head low and his steps careful. He avoided eye contact. He took the side door out of the building like he always did. That door led to the back alley behind the school, a place where no one ever went except janitors and kids trying to skip class.
Except today, they were waiting.
Dylan stood against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression calm. Behind him, Marcus leaned on a trash bin, Jay kicked at a rock, and Cole smacked his palm with a worn baseball cap. Noah stopped in his tracks.
"Hey there, little guy," Dylan said.
Noah did not reply. His eyes flicked to the door behind him, but Jay stepped forward, blocking the way.
"Going somewhere?" Jay asked.
Noah swallowed. "I just want to go home."
"Yeah?" Dylan said. He walked closer. "What makes you think you get to leave without saying hi?"
Noah's heart was pounding. He could feel it in his ears, each beat sharp and fast.
"I don't want any trouble," he said.
"But we do," Dylan replied.
The others laughed. Not loud, not forced. Just quiet and casual. Like this was routine. Like they had done this a hundred times before.
Dylan stepped closer until he stood only a few inches away. He looked down at Noah with eyes that held no sympathy. "You think you're better than us. Walking around like you're not scared."
"I'm not," Noah said, though his voice betrayed him.
"You sure about that?" Dylan asked.
He shoved Noah backward. It was not hard, but Noah's back hit the wall with a dull thud. He winced. Dylan grinned.
"See? You're scared. You always have been."
Noah did not answer.
"Say something," Dylan said. His voice had lost its playful tone. It was lower now. He stepped forward again and grabbed Noah by the front of his hoodie.
"Let go," Noah whispered.
Dylan pulled him forward and then let him drop.
"Or what? You gonna hit me?"
Noah looked at the ground. "No."
"Of course not. You're too weak."
The others stepped closer. Marcus cracked his knuckles. Cole muttered something Noah did not catch. Jay just watched.
Dylan's hand curled into a fist.
And then everything changed.
It happened fast. A movement. A step. A punch.
The blow landed just over Noah's heart. It was sharp and exact, almost like Dylan had aimed for something more than just pain. At that exact moment, Noah's heart beat once. Just once.
Then it stopped.
For a second, no one moved.
Noah stumbled backward. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes widened. One hand pressed to his chest. The world tilted.
He collapsed.
There was no scream. No dramatic gasp. Just a small sound as his body hit the ground and curled inward like he was falling asleep. His breathing stopped. His eyes stopped moving. The alley fell silent.
Dylan stepped back, his hand still raised.
"What the hell," Jay said.
"Did you kill him?" Marcus asked.
"No," Dylan said. "He's faking. He's just-"
But he wasn't.
He wasn't breathing.
They stood there, frozen. Seconds passed like hours. Finally, Dylan swore and ran. The others followed. Their laughter gone. Their voices distant.
And Noah lay still.
For a long time, no one came. No one saw. The sky stayed gray. The wind didn't move. A silence wrapped around him, deep and complete.