Oliver didn’t reply. He had learned by now that any word he said was bound to be the wrong one. Mr. Viesel had enjoyed torturing him since the day Oliver had first set foot in the school. The torment had only been verbal so far, and Mr. Viesel had yet to lay a finger on him, but Oliver could feel that, too, would come one day soon. He looked at the man’s hands again and saw they were wracked by spasms, muscles rippling beneath his skin.

“They’re waiting for me,” Oliver said.

Mr. Viesel’s belly shook as he let out a quick, low laugh.

“You came here for a piss. So do it,” he commanded, standing firm, his shoulder blocking the door.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. The pressure on his bladder was beginning to hurt.

“I need to get back,” he said. “Please.”

“No, you’re staying right here. Standing to attention, like a little soldier, until you’ve wet yourself.”

Oliver felt something dampening his cheeks.

“Crying like a little girl now, are we?” Mr. Viesel mocked him.

Oliver thought of Lucia, who was a girl, but also brave and strong. He opened his eyes. His attacker’s silhouette seemed to tremble when he saw it through his tears.

The man leaned toward him.

“You know what I’ll do if you go telling anyone about this, don’t you?”

Oliver didn’t reply.

“I’ll come for you at night when you’re asleep, and . . .”

He made as if to grab him. Oliver let out a strangled scream and Viesel burst out laughing. But then something hit him on the head and bounced off onto the floor. Viesel looked at the object and Oliver followed his gaze. It was a blackboard eraser. It had left a chalk mark across the man’s cheek.

Mr. Viesel turned around and Oliver took his chance to squeeze through the gap between Viesel’s thigh and the cubicle door, pushing through with all his strength to reclaim his freedom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said Viesel, but it was too late. Oliver was safe now.

Mathias and Diego stood between him and his tormentor.

“So you need your little friends to rescue you,” Viesel grunted. “When will you stop being such a wimp?”

“Leave him alone!” said Mathias.

“What’s your problem, Klavora? Your father forgot to give you a proper beating this week?”

Abramo Viesel wiped the chalk off his face.

“And I see young Valent is here, too,” he said, looking at Diego. He picked up the eraser. “Now your old man’s come to a sticky end.”

“Shut up!”

But Mathias’s cry went unheeded. Oliver saw him grab Diego’s arm and try to drag him away, but Diego seemed to have turned into stone.

“Let’s go!” Mathias pleaded.