Nolan re-entered the classroom with all the ease of someone drifting into familiar chaos. The door slammed behind him, bouncing a shudder across the dusty floor. He strode forward, backpack slung over one shoulder, his gaze sweeping the circle of faces—Delo at the center, breathing steady but alert, the bullies arrayed around him like sentries, excitement and wariness mixed on their expressions.
Nolan said nothing; instead, he simply sank into his desk chair, legs uncrossed, eyes fixed on the room.
He didn't leave. He didn't issue a reprimand. He just sat. Silent. Waiting.
The bullies, caught off guard, watched him. What does he want? whispers passed through the space between them. There was no tension—just a knowing suspension. They had already stolen his respect by defending Delo. Now they were curious: what would he do?
Minutes passed as the classroom held its breath. Wordless glances were exchanged. Delo glanced at Nolan, then back at Ramos, uncertain.
