Milo

The first thing I noticed about him wasn’t the smell everyone whispered about it was how quiet he was. Sixteen, thin like he might snap if the wind pushed too hard, dressed in faded black layers that hung off him like shadows. He sat with them the loud ones, the ones who laughed too hard and shoved too often. They called him names, wrinkled their noses, pushed his shoulder just to see him stumble. And he let them. Every time. I had just transferred, still figuring out faces and rumors but back at my old school, I wasn’t the quiet type. I was the one people didn’t mess with. Nobody here knew that yet. To them, I was just another new kid. But watching him sit there, taking it like he deserved it, something in me settled cold and sharp I already knew if anyone pushed too far, I wouldn’t let it slide. Not with him. Lunch made it worse. He didn’t touch real food, just a handful of candy, unwrapped slow like it meant something. I overheard enough ed they said, like it was a joke. Like starving was funny. But when he ate the candy, there was this tiny change, barely there, like for a second he felt okay. Later, behind the gym, they cornered him again. Laughter, shoves, one hit harder than the rest, knocking him back into the wall. He didn’t fight. Didn’t even try. Just stood there, taking it like pain was better than being alone. I watched from the edge, jaw tight, hands already curling into fists. They didn’t know me yet… but they would if they kept going. When they left, I stepped forward instead. The air still held that faint stench they mocked, but it didn’t matter. “Why don’t you ever fight back?” I asked. He froze, clutching a candy wrapper like it was the only thing keeping him steady. His mouth opened, then closed. No answer. And standing there, I made a quiet promise he’d never hear next time, they wouldn’t get away with it. He loved candy and his headphones to listen to music to block out noises