On Tuesday, the atmosphere at school was different.
Not quieter – rather more tense, denser, like the air before a thunderstorm.
Voices whispered everywhere. Names, half-sentences, murmurs that drifted through the hallway like smoke.
And over and over again, Lina heard a single word: Fights.
In the assembly hall, Jonas grinned broadly as he talked with some boys.
"That guy's not normal, man. No beginner dodges like that. That was training."
"Boxing club?" one of them asked.
Jonas shook his head. "Too clean. Too fast. That was something more."
Kevin, still offended, growled: "It was luck."
"Luck?" Jonas laughed, loudly, almost too loudly. "Then you've got a hell of a lot of bad luck."
Lina stood at the edge, pretending to flip through her notebook.
But every word hit her like a little sting.
Training. Fights. Something more.
The syllables hung in the air, sliding into her thoughts as if they had found a home there.
