When she turned, she saw them—three boys she recognized not because they were particularly memorable, but because they had a way of inserting themselves into other people’s lives at the worst possible moments. Trevor Langley stood in the middle, taller than the others, his expression carrying that familiar mix of boredom and entitlement that often masquerades as confidence. On either side of him were Mason Pike and Drew Holloway, both watching with the kind of anticipation that suggested they already knew how this was going to play out.
“What?” Lila asked, her voice steady but quiet.
Trevor tilted his head, as if considering her. “Heard your dad was some kind of big deal,” he said, the words drawn out just enough to make them feel less like a statement and more like a setup.
Lila didn’t respond. She had learned, over the past year, that silence could sometimes defuse situations faster than anything else.
But Trevor wasn’t looking for silence.
“Gunnery Sergeant, right?” he continued, exaggerating the title, rolling it around his mouth like it was something to be mocked. “Sounds important. Guess it didn’t help much though, did it?”
Mason snorted, and Drew let out a low chuckle, the sound blending into the general noise of the cafeteria but still somehow cutting through everything else.
Lila felt it then—that shift inside her, subtle at first, like a tightening in her chest, followed by a slow, steady rise of something hotter, something that didn’t feel like the quiet sadness she had grown used to carrying.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice still controlled but firmer now.
Trevor took a step closer. “Don’t what?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Say his name? Daniel Carter, right? Or was it—”
