Greenside Secondary's dining hall was a chaos of grey blazers and plastic trays, the smell of soggy chips and Radnor Fizz hanging thick in the air. Year sevens swarmed the serving counter like a tidal wave of hormones and bad haircuts.

Over by the window, a group of boys had already claimed the best table. The tall one with the fair hair was cracking his knuckles, grinning as two others flinched dramatically. The one next to him, dark-haired and sharp-chinned, was scrolling through his phone, not even pretending to listen to the conversation.

Then the doors swung open again.

And Jack's neck went red.