I began walking to just pass them, making well sure to shift quite far from them, moving very close to the opposite wall as if it were a lifeline.
My eyes were fixed straight ahead, my pace steady but not hurried.
Don't make eye contact, don't change your rhythm, just be a ghost in the hallway. So they wouldn't notice me.
For a few blessed seconds, it worked.
They continued bullying the boy, their voices low, threatening, and luckily didn't notice me.
Their focus was entirely on their prey.
I was almost clear, almost past the whole ugly scene.
But while I passed, my ears, against my will, picked up their words.
And I began to understand why they were bullying him.
It wasn't the usual, mindless cruelty I'd assumed.
They weren't just picking on him for being weak, or for being an easy target to vent their own stupidity and insecurity.
No. The boy was holding a card on his hand, clutching it so tightly his knuckles were white.
