"Move, give him room!" Adelyn's hand froze mid-splash.
The paper cup hung between her fingers, steam twisting like someone had lit a tiny torch. Kids circled Victor in a sloppy ring, phones raised. Someone had yelled "Content" and that was enough.
"Do it, Tang!" Crew Voigt shouted, leaning over the railing with his dyed grin. He wasn't the one pressing the cups; he was the loudest. The kids around him laughed on cue.
Adelyn didn't lower the cup. She let the water drip, deliberate. One silver drop landed on the concrete and spat. She tasted the nonsense of the moment and spat back with a line.
"You kids are gonna starve if you keep this up," she said.
"Watch the mouth," a girl snapped. "He's had enough dignity for two years. Pour it."
"Pour what?" Adelyn asked. "Respect? Lunch money? Opinions?"
Someone shoved a cup forward. The pressure meant the cup would hit. The plan was ugly: hot water, viral shame, a ten-second standup of cruelty for the sophomore feed. Victor sat bundled in a hoodie, hood limp, head down. Circuit-breaker silence tried to make him smaller.
Adelyn tightened her grip. She felt all the eyes register that she, one person in a mob, was making a choice they loved to record.
"Stop," Victor said, voice low and steady. "Don't make this a thing."
The cup hit his knee. Hot water spilled, steam blooming up the fabric. The kids cheered. The plan
