They did not need to.
They had learned that fear could be built one small moment at a time.
The morning it happened, I arrived early. Rain tapped against the windows, and the hallway smelled like wet jackets and floor cleaner. I took my seat, opened my history book, and tried to finish an essay before class began.
For ten quiet minutes, nobody bothered me.
Then Tessa walked in carrying a carton of milk from the cafeteria.
I saw it in her hand.
I saw Brianna waiting behind my desk.
And I understood.
My stomach tightened, but I kept my eyes on the page.
Brianna placed both hands on the back of my chair.
"Morning, Maya," she said.
I did not answer.
Tessa moved around the desk and stopped beside me. The carton made a soft sloshing sound.
"Still pretending you're better than everyone?" she asked.
"I never said that."
"Your face says it."
A few students had entered the room. Some looked over, then quickly looked away. The rain kept tapping against the windows. Somewhere in the hallway, a locker slammed shut.
I closed my book.
"Please leave me alone."
Tessa tilted her head.
"That's all you ever say."
"No," I said. "It's what I'm saying now."
For a second, her expression changed. The smile faded, and something colder took its place.