Liam didn't come to school the next day.
His mother had called early, her voice thin with worry. "He's not doing well," she said. "Another panic attack this morning. Couldn't get out of bed. Couldn't breathe."
In the office, the secretary typed the absence into the system like it was any other student with a cold.
But it wasn't just a missed day.
For Liam, it was another victory for fear.
For his friends, it was another line crossed.
At lunch, the tension at their table was suffocating.
Ryan slammed his tray down harder than necessary. Anika sat motionless, her eyes staring at nothing in particular. Theo twisted the cap off his water bottle until it cracked.
"He's at home having a panic attack," Ryan muttered. "And Adam? He's just walking around like he owns the place."
"He does," Theo said bitterly. "At least, he used to. He still thinks he does."
Anika spoke at last, her voice low and sharp. "You think a month of detention makes up for what they did? Liam still can't sleep without flinching."
Ryan's fists clenched. "We should do something."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Ryan's jaw tightened. "Hit back. Not physically—I mean, maybe not. I don't know. Scare them. Corner Jeremy. Post something about Jessica. Trash Oliver's car."
Anika leaned forward. "We know where they hang out after practice. We could catch them off school grounds. Just like they did with Liam."
Theo didn't answer right away. He just looked down at the table.
It felt like a trapdoor had opened beneath all of them. Months—years—of being silent, of swallowing it, pretending it didn't hurt… suddenly the idea of fighting back didn't seem so far.
What if they deserved it?
What if it was the only language someone like Adam understood?
None of them noticed that Mr. Peterson had been approaching from the back entrance of the cafeteria—until his voice cut through their whispered storm.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
The trio froze.
Peterson walked up to their table, quiet but purposeful. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from them like they were back in class, working on a group project.
He folded his hands. "So. You're angry."
Ryan looked away. "Can you blame us?"
"No," Peterson said. "I'm angry too. I've been angry since I saw Liam curled up in the dirt."
Theo's eyes narrowed. "Then why aren't you doing something?"
Peterson didn't flinch. "You think breaking Jeremy's nose is going to fix anything? You think scaring Jessica will undo Liam's fractured ribs?"
Anika's voice was cold. "It's not about fixing. It's about equalizing."
"You don't want equal," Peterson said. "You want revenge. And believe me, I've seen what revenge looks like up close. It doesn't give you peace. It gives you a target to hold while your hands shake at night."
The table was silent.
Then Peterson added, more gently, "Do you want them to feel what Liam felt for a day, or do you want to make sure no one ever feels that way again?"
Ryan stared at the table. His fists slowly unclenched.
Anika wiped the corner of her eye.
Theo exhaled.
Peterson stood, pushing in his chair. "I'll be in Room 12-B after school. We're organizing Anti-Bullying Day. Posters. Sign-ups. Workshops. You want change? Help me build it."
He walked away.
They didn't call after him.
But none of them moved for a long time.
The rest of the school day dragged.
Liam's absence was like a ghost moving through the halls. His empty desk in English. His locker untouched. His laugh missing from the quiet corners where he and his friends used to linger between classes.
Some students noticed. Some didn't.
Adam noticed.
He saw how people looked at him differently now—how conversations died when he entered the room, how even Jeremy barely spoke to him at lunch.
The silence wasn't admiration anymore.
It was caution.
Disbelief.
Fear.
And worst of all—distance.
Harper hadn't spoken to him all day. Christen sat with the theater kids now. Jessica rolled her eyes when he tried to joke.
The air around him was thinning.
And he could feel it.
That afternoon, Theo, Ryan, and Anika stood silently outside Room 12-B.
"I still think they got off easy," Ryan muttered. "If any of us had done what they did—"
"We'd be suspended," Theo finished. "Or expelled."
Anika looked at the closed classroom door. "We can't fix what happened to Liam. But maybe we can make sure it doesn't happen again."
They walked inside.
The classroom was transformed. Desks pushed aside. Tables covered in art supplies, open laptops, half-finished flyers. A hand-drawn poster read:
"ANTI-BULLYING DAY: STAND UP. SPEAK OUT."
Peterson looked up from taping a sign to the wall. "Didn't expect you."
"You asked if we wanted change," Anika said. "We do."
He smiled faintly. "Then let's get to work."
He handed them materials. Paper. Markers. Sign-up lists.
They got started.
For the first time all day, they felt less helpless.
Across town, Liam sat in bed, curled under his comforter with his curtains drawn.
His chest still felt tight. His dreams still played like replays of that day in the woods.
But when his phone buzzed, he picked it up.
A photo: Theo holding a paint-smeared poster that read "Your Voice Matters." Ryan and Anika in the background, holding up peace signs.
A message below it:
"For you. See you soon."
Liam smiled through tears.
And in the silence of his room, something began to shift.
Not everything.
But something.