Ahead, Malia Baker and Freya Skye walked side-by-side, Freya gesturing animatedly while Malia listened with a soft smile. Across the crowded hall, near the water fountain, Malachi Barton leaned against a bank of lockers, his attention split between his phone and Mekonnen Knife, who stood beside him with his arms crossed, scanning the flow of students with a calm, detached expression.

The overhead speakers crackled to life with a sharp, digital pop. The background noise in the hall didn’t immediately die down.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, like a switch flipped, the noise cut out into a ringing, hollow silence. A locker door hung open, unmoving.