The room had changed.
Gone were the whispers and quiet panic. Now, the classroom buzzed with tension, with eyes darting between backpacks and stomachs. No one talked about school anymore. No one cared about grades.
There were five groups now.
Group One: Big Mike's faction — ten strong, backed by the biggest stash of snacks in the room.
Group Two: Led by a skinny kid with glasses named Reed Nolan, who hoarded painkillers and medical supplies in exchange for food protection.
Group Three: A girl named Chloe Yang ran it — clever, calm, and commanding. Her group was small but tight, and they traded water bottles like currency.
Group Four: Darnell Cruz, loud and muscular, formed a loudmouth crew that stole and threatened the weaker students for scraps.
And then… Samuel.
He sat in the back corner. Alone.
A one-man group.
His stash wasn't big, but it was smart. Military rations. Energy-packed. Long-lasting.
And worst of all… he had the peaches.
---
It happened late in the afternoon. The heat in the classroom made time melt. Samuel sat against the wall, sipping slowly from a warmed bottle of water, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes constantly checking his bag.
That's when two shadows stepped in front of him.
Mason and Eric.
Big Mike's "goons."
"Hey," Mason grinned, all teeth and sweat, "Mike says you've been holding out."
Samuel didn't look up. "Everyone is."
"Yeah, but you've got his favorite," Eric added, jiggling two small water bottles in one hand. "And he's feeling real generous."
They dropped the bottles at Samuel's feet.
"In exchange for the can of peaches," Mason said, like it was a fair deal.
Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Is this a joke?"
Mason knelt. "Nah. This is a negotiation."
Samuel stood slowly, calmly placing the half-empty bottle beside him.
"I don't want to fight," he said.
Eric stepped forward. "Then hand them over."
Mason cracked his knuckles. "Or we take them."
---
Samuel moved first.
He ducked under Mason's swing, planted his heel, and slammed a punch into his ribs. Mason grunted and staggered — not down, but stunned.
Eric lunged from the side, but Samuel turned with him, grabbed his wrist, and threw him over his hip onto the floor with a hard thud.
Samuel's dad had drilled him every day.
Sweat. Bruises. Push-ups until his arms locked.
How to breathe. How to move. How to win.
Mason came again, this time angrier, faster. Samuel sidestepped, caught him by the collar, and headbutted him square in the nose.
Blood.
Mason dropped like a stone.
Eric tried to get up, but Samuel was already there — he pressed a foot to his chest and stared him down.
"I'm not sharing the peaches," Samuel said flatly. "Tell Mike that."
---
The room was silent.
Every student had watched.
Even Big Mike.
He sat in the back, arms crossed, a chocolate bar halfway to his mouth. His eyes were narrowed, face unreadable.
And then… he smiled.
Not friendly. Not amused.
Just cold.
---
Samuel sat back down.
Took a long breath.
Picked up the two small bottles of water.
And set them aside.
"I'll save these for later."