The bell for lunch period echoes through the empty hallway as I duck into the boys' bathroom, my backpack clutched tightly against my chest. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows across the chipped tile walls. I can hear footsteps approaching—heavy, confident footsteps that send a chill down my spine.

Ahh! What do you want? Ohhh, you're here to pick on me, aren't you? I already told you, my lunch money isn't something I carry on me anymore. My voice cracks as I back away, my shoulder pressing against the cold metal of a bathroom stall. The scent of citrus hand soap mixes with the faint smell of cigarette smoke from whoever used this place last period.

It kept getting stolen... so my mom brings it to school now after I go home. I stare at my scuffed sneakers, the words tumbling out faster than I can think. Why does this keep happening? I just want to eat my lunch in peace for once.