I really wish there was a theater program here, he thought as he ascended up into Orangevale Middle School. Maybe he should ask Mrs. Caroline about starting one.

He was lost in thought when someone slammed into his shoulder.

Hard.

Héctor’s backpack fell to the tiled floor, the bells on the top strap jangling as it did, and his stuffed Eevee went flying. He spun around and was met with the grinning face of Carlos.

“’Sup, Héctor,” he said.

And before Héctor could mumble a confused reply, another shoulder slammed into him, and he spun in the opposite direction.

This time, Héctor nearly fell over, but he was quick on his feet. “Hey, watch out!” he said, but then he heard Frank’s loud, barking laugh.

“You gotta watch where you’re going,” said Frank, and Héctor didn’t know how, but his hair looked even greasier today. Was his shower just a torrent of oil?

Héctor didn’t have time to be grossed out by his own thought, because then Mike came through the double doors. There was a malevolent smirk on his face.

“Careful, Heck-tor,” said Mike. “If you’re just checking guys out all the time, you’ll never see what’s in your way.”

Héctor sighed and reached down to pick up his bag. “I wasn’t checking anyone out,” he said, but he knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth, this was pointless. Futile.

“Oh, am I not good enough for you?” said Mike, faking outrage. “Did you just call me ugly?”

Carlos and Frank cackled behind him.

“No, I didn’t—” Héctor began.

Mike advanced on him, and before Héctor could react, Mike reached out and flicked the collar of his V-neck. “Who wears shirts like this? That seems real fruity.”

Héctor’s heart raced, and his hand went to his collar, covering up his exposed skin.

“I tried to be your friend, you know,” Mike said.

Now Héctor started backing up. He hated that this was his reaction.

Because he was afraid.

A nervous energy filled Héctor’s chest as his back hit a wall. “W-we can still be friends,” he said, his voice shaking. It did not sound terribly convincing, and he knew that. But he had no idea what else to say.

“Maybe we should try again,” Mike said, and he stopped advancing.

He stuck his hand out.

“A truce,” he said.

“A truce?” Héctor repeated. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning we can be friends!” said Mike. “If you can outrun us.”

Héctor’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Mike lurched forward and Héctor’s reaction was instinctual:

He ran.