The room is dead silent. Nobody moves. Nobody even breathes. I don’t hear a single piece of cutlery hitting a single plastic tray. Without looking around, I know that everybody’s eyes are on him, just like mine.

He’s fully out of his seat when Mr. Jay’s brow furrows and we all recognize that look.

Somebody behind me takes a deep breath.

I guess we’re all realizing that the kid has a couple of inches on Mr. Jay.

He stares at Mr. Jay’s face with his lip curled, so disgusted that his cheeks are red.

The whole world seems to stop at this moment. If somebody told me that the whole planet paused to find out what would happen between some kid and Mr. Jay, I would believe it.

Then the kid’s hands come up. I can practically feel everybody’s heads move just a little to follow his fists. It seems surreal, like a game on TV. I haven’t seen one of those since I came here.

Unlike the boxing matches my dad used to watch, there’s so much anger. So much thick tension that suffocates the room.

The crack of Mr. Jay’s jaw ricochets off the wall.

An energy goes through the room. That’s everybody understanding, all at the same time, that we outnumber the staff in the lunchroom. That they aren’t the most powerful. That they can be broken too.

Everything had been so routine and so calm that Mr. Jay only has one other guy in here with him.

There are a lot more of us than there are of them.

Mr. Jay’s eyes get wide, like he’s just realized that he’s outnumbered at the same time as the rest of us. Although he strikes back, he misses.

That’s when the kid takes the second swing.

Mr. Jay isn’t ready for it. He blinks like he thinks he might’ve lost his mind—there’s no way this can be happening to him—and doesn’t pull away in time.

The hit lands hard and snaps Mr. Jay’s head around.

It all happens so fast. Like a blur in a single breath.

Before he’s recovered, the kid barks, “Stand up straight!” and hits him again, tears in his eyes. He screams and I can’t help but to get to my feet. Like the other kids.

The guy next to me yells out, “It’s time for your punishment.”

The noise is incredible. The staff here yells all the time to the point that I barely notice their voices anymore.

The sound of everybody yelling is a rush of adrenaline all on its own. It courses through me, and I feel like I could do anything. I could tear down the walls with my bare hands. I could fly. I could spit fire.

Anything.