I pack up my things and move into the hall, not paying attention to my surroundings, but then there’s a sharp, red spike of anger that comes shooting out of the swirling vortex of despair. My head snaps up to find the source.

“What, do you think you’re better than me or something?”

Bryce is growling, looming over Adam by the lockers. They’re clearly in the middle of some sort of argument, and Adam, the idiot, is staring right back, his body ready for a fight. Adam isn’t necessarily small—I mean, I’ve got a bunch of inches on him since I hit my growth spurt this summer—but Bryce is an offensive tackle. He’s huge. And there’s Adam, clenching his jaw and staring Bryce down like they’re evenly matched. I’d be impressed, if I didn’t think I was about to watch Adam get pummeled into the ground.

“I didn’t say that, Bryce,” Adam spits back, moving just the slightest bit forward. Ooh, that was stupid. The drumbeat of Adam’s fear is pounding in my head—he’s all false confidence and bitterness and this will not end well.

Bryce draws himself to his full height, puffing out his chest and looking down at Adam like he’s ready to step on him.

“You think because you stand up in front of the class and say a bunch of smart-ass nonsense that you’re better than me?” There’s that hot-cold black sludge again and I think it’s Bryce’s. Oh. He’s insecure. Bryce is worried that he’s dumb.

The next spike of anger is so strong, so piercing, that I’m starting to get worried that Adam is gonna snap and attack the guy. The angry heat is starting to sink into my pores and I feel myself filling with lava—I’ve gotta get ahead of this.

“Hey, c’mon, Bryce, just leave the guy alone,” I say weakly, taking a step toward them.

Adam’s anger is momentarily taken over by the yellow-orange of surprise. There’s something else there too. Something softer and a little … squirmy. I don’t have time to think about what it might be before:

“What, don’t tell me you liked this nerd’s presentation?” Bryce scoffs, but I can feel the heat of nervousness from him.

“Who cares, Bryce, just go to third period.” Based on Adam’s building lava and the tangled, anxious frustration coming from Bryce, I don’t think my stepping in is doing much in the way of calming things down.

“Chill, Michaels, I’ve got a free period next. I could do this all day,” he singsongs, getting into Adam’s face as Justin chortles behind him.