“Tell me, Michaels, did your GPA go down each time you got tackled this season, or were you born dumb?” Tyler is right on my heels, which are moving thankyouverymuch, and I feel my whole body grow hot with anger. It itches at my skin but I just keep walking toward the door.

“Shut up, Tyler,” I grind out.

“I’m honestly kinda amazed they even let you play,” he crows—loud enough to draw attention, like he wants—as he follows me into the hallway. “I mean, can you even read the numbers on the field?”

There’s a fire in my chest, choking out all the oxygen in my lungs, and something else—something weighty and dark, making me taste metal. I do everything I can to focus on moving forward.

“And, aw, look,” Tyler says, “little Moses got a ninety-eight!”

I look around to see Tyler snatch Moses’s test from his hands and wave it around. Like always, Tyler is dressed like grunge never went out of style and has got that toothy sneer plastered over his face. It always makes me want to hit something.

I should just keep walking, I know I should, but my whole body seizes up and I stop in my tracks without meaning to. Moses’s face is covered in flop sweat as he tries to get his test back from Tyler and my heart starts beating like it’s been injected with Red Bull.

“C’mon, Tyler, give it back,” Moses pipes up, his soft voice barely getting to my ears. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe? Am I having an asthma attack? Do I have asthma?

“What do you think, guys,” Tyler grandstands to absolutely no one. “Is it just impossible to be smart and athletic?”

My heart is in my throat now and I feel like my head is in a vise. I want to walk away, get far away from Tyler, but there’s this heavy, dark-feeling pit in my stomach that’s weighing me down where I stand. My field of vision narrows until all that’s left is Tyler’s dumb crooked smile.

“I mean, on the one hand we’ve got running back Michaels over here with a failing grade…”

God, I want to wipe that smile off his face.

“… and on the other hand we’ve got fatso Moses with—”

“Mr. Michaels, that’s enough!”

The voice cuts through the ringing in my ears and I come back to my body. There are strong hands gripping my arms, pulling me backward. My face feels hot, air ripping harshly down my throat. I’m breathing heavily, too much oxygen getting into my lungs, making me dizzy.

My hand hurts. I look down at it to find it curled into a tight fist. There’s blood on it.