The upstairs didn’t match the ground level’s polished cement. Instead, it was old, chipped, wood. Coins were frequently lost between a few of the boards.

Each of the bedrooms was numbered. One through four were downstairs. The last one, room six, was theirs. Jack stopped at an unmarked door between rooms five and six.

“This is the upstairs bathroom.” The handle refused to turn in his hand. He could hear the shower turn off. 

Quinn seemed to be paying attention at least. He looked up at the door. His eyes were an unsettling shade of navy. He held onto his right arm, pulling the sleeve into a tight fist.

“Try not to shower in the morning before school, people get pissed-” The bathroom door swung open. Jack was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and hoisted against the window on the opposite wall.

“You stained my shirt you bitch,” Kyle yelled. His slimy hair dripped onto Jack’s face.

“Looks like we match,” Jack said, his anger overriding common sense and Devon’s warning. Kyle slapped him. It stung like a sunburn.

“I changed my mind, I don’t like that you talk back.” He wound back before planting his fist Jack’s gut. Jack lurched forward, gagging. His stomach had nothing in it worth giving back.

 He wants to hurt me for real. I can’t fight him, he’s too big! “Quinn-” he choked. Quinn was on the floor, hunched in a ball, covering his ears.

“He’s not gonna help you,” Kyle sneered. Jack rammed his knee between Kyle’s thighs; a very uninspired move, but it’s all he had. Kyle collapsed. On his way down he yanked Jack’s legs out from under him.

Jack’s back hit the floor, knocking the wind out of him. The thud echoed down the hall. Kyle wrapped his fingers around his throat. Jack clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe.

Kyle squeezed harder. His red face came in and out of focus. Jack’s mouth filled with spit. The smell of hot iron accompanied an enormous pressure filling his skull. Struggling cost more air that he didn't have. 

Jack let go of Kyle’s arms. 

He didn’t want to fight, he hadn’t to begin with. 

Two sets of footsteps climbed the staircase. Each creek took exponentially longer than the last. Kyle only noticed after they’d reached the top and one took a running start.

Devon attempted to tackle Kyle, grabbing him from under the arms. Kyle hardly budged from the impact. He released his grip in one hand to swing his elbow back. It broke the skin above Devon’s temple.

Devon stepped back, inhaling deeply. He gripped Kyle by the head with both hands. He used his weight to slam the side of his face into the floor. Jack sat up gasping and coughing as Kyle let go.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing!” Devon shouted. Blood ran down the side of his face. The arms were pronounced with the effort it took to hold Kyle in place.

“He-” Kyle started to explain, out of breath. He was still struggling to get the upper hand on Devon. Kyle could outclass him in weight, but they were nowhere near the same level of strength. 

Devon punched him in the head. “He’s half your size!”

Jack drooled onto the floor in his haste to get enough air. He braced himself against it. The walls swam like they were outside of a fishbowl.

“You ok?” Chris asked, walking up from the stairs. Jack nodded, unable to speak. 

Kyle squirmed and kicked his feet. “He fuckin’-” 

Devon lifted his hold just to smack Kyle’s head down against the wood again. “He. Is half. Your size,” he reiterated, panting from the waning adrenaline. Kyle stopped struggling, his stamina reaching its limit. Devon backed off but remained hovering.

“Get out,” Devon demanded. Kyle stared at him while lifting himself from the floor. “Get. Out.” Devon pulled Kyle up from under his arm to his feet. He gave him a hard shove towards the staircase. Kyle watched Jack wheeze as he descended the steps.

Quinn didn’t get up from where he’d curled up on the floor. Throughout the whole thing, he hadn’t moved. His eyes were shut tight and his ears covered.

He didn't cry. He didn’t get help. He didn’t run away. I almost died and he couldn't even be bothered to scream! We’re both pathetic! Jack grabbed Quinn by the shoulders. He wanted to hit him, maybe to knock some sense into him, or maybe just to vent. Quinn went rigid.

“Hey!” Chris reached to hold him back. Jack didn't go through with it, he couldn’t. Not because he wasn’t angry enough, but because Quinn had slumped forward. His forehead bounced against Jack’s shoulder.

“Did he-” Devon asked.

“He-pass-” Jack’s voice faded in and out. Talking felt and sounded like swallowing gravel. He nodded instead. Guilt soured the pit of his stomach.