The cafeteria buzzed with the clatter of trays and shouts of boys chasing each other, but Piggy’s shoulders hunched tight as he picked at the lumpy mashed potatoes on his plate. He’d barely said three words to the girl with the braided hair in English—just asked to borrow her ruler— but now here was Roger, the boy who’d once tripped him on the stairs, slamming his tray down across from him. Two other boys flanked Roger, snickering as they leaned in, blocking Piggy’s escape. “Heard you were making moves on my girl, fatty,” Roger sneered, prodding Piggy’s chest with a grubby finger. Piggy’s glasses slipped down his nose; he fumbled to push them up, his voice cracking as he stammered, “I-I just needed a ruler. I didn’t—” “Shut up,” Roger cut him off, swiping a fry off Piggy’s plate and flicking it at his face. The boys beside him whooped. Piggy’s ears burned, and he stared at his shoes, wishing the linoleum would swallow him whole. He could feel eyes on him from nearby tables, but no one moved to help. Roger leaned in closer, his breath reeking of burnt hot dog. “Stay away from her. Or next time, it’s not just a fry you’ll be dodging.”