Chapter 17: The Shape of Survival
"I see you, you little shit."
Noel muttered the words under his breath, just loud enough for himself, eyes locked on the red-haired student sitting three rows ahead.
The guy didn't do much.
He sat straight. Still. Too still. Back just stiff enough to be military, just relaxed enough to not draw attention. He scribbled notes with his right hand and passed silent glances to the two shadows flanking him—his usual crew.
They didn't talk to anyone else.
Didn't look at anyone else.
Every time a classmate passed close or tried to chat?
Dead stares. Closed-off body language. That subtle shift of the shoulder that screamed "don't fucking bother."
It worked.
People avoided them now.
Noel watched them like a hawk.