Jay-Jay's POV
I spent the whole morning doing advanced ninja moves just to avoid Chantelle.
Left early.
Changed routes.
By break time, I escaped my class like my life depended on it.
The cafeteria was still half-empty—maybe ten, fifteen people. Peaceful. Rare. Beautiful.
Finally. A safe zone.
I grabbed a tray, a juice box, and two donuts. Important detail. Very important detail.
I opened the drink while walking—because I multitask like a professional—heading toward our usual spot.
Then—
BAM.
I bumped into someone.
Juice almost flew. Donuts trembled.
I looked up.
Mike.
And behind him, his two shadows—Mick and Michael.
Oh great. The 3M's. Why do they always travel in a pack like expired batteries?
Mike looked down at his shirt and snapped,
"Fuck you, you spoiled my new dress."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"I'm sorry," I said calmly, because jail is not part of my future plans.
But instead of moving, they blocked my way.
Mike smirked. "Watch where you're going."
Then the bragging started.
Money.
Cars.
Families.
Accents.
I sighed.
"If you're so rich," I said sweetly, "why don't you buy some English books? Your accent needs help. And my boys' accents are nicer than yours."
Silence.
Then laughter—from people nearby.
The 3M's didn't like that.
Mike leaned closer. "Your boyfriend? He's a nasty bastard."
I cut him off immediately.
"I said boys, not boy's. You guys can't even understand common English."
More laughter.
Bad idea.
They didn't let me pass. Hands brushed my tray. Someone nudged it.
Then—
CRASH.
My tray hit the floor.
My juice spilled.
My donuts…
My donuts were gone.
The crowd grew. Eyes everywhere.
My vision blurred.
No… not like this.
Tears filled my eyes.
Not because of them.
Not because of the insults.
But because my donuts were lying there.
Cold.
Defeated.
Unloved.
Mike snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Hey, are you even listening?"
I sniffed. "Of course not. My donut is on the floor."
The 3M's burst out laughing.
Mike's smile dropped.
Then he pushed me.
I fell.
This time, I stood up furious.
Okay. Jail might be an option.
I lifted my hand—
Then—
A hand grabbed my wrist.
Another held my backpack.
Firm. Protective.
Stopping me.
I froze.