Cold. Careless. Confident.
“You don’t belong here.”
And before anyone could react, he slapped the tray out of my hands.
The sound cut through the cafeteria like metal striking concrete.
Food exploded across the floor.
Bread skidded under a chair.
Apple slices bounced and spun.
The tray landed flat, then rocked once before going still.
For a second, the entire room went silent.
I looked down at the mess.
Then I crouched.
Not because I was ashamed.
Because I knew exactly what was coming next.
And because by then, I had already seen the time.
11:43.
My mother had told me not to say a word about what happened that morning.
But as I reached for the dented tray, I realized Alex Kane had chosen the worst possible ten minutes of his life to make me kneel.
