"I just really hate bullies. " That evening, the dining hall was loud and warm and smelled like overcooked pasta. Zoe and Avery took a corner table, trays between them, and Avery talked while Zoe ate and listened. "Three complaints," Avery said, keeping her voice low even though the nearest table was 20 ft away. Two years, three different girls. " She stabbed a piece of broccoli. "All three dropped.
All three just gone. " "Gone how? " "Gone as if nobody talks about them anymore. Gone as in the girls transferred or went quiet. " Avery set her fork down. "Dean Preston sits on the disciplinary board. You know who funded the new athletic wing? The one they're still building on the east side of campus? " Zoe looked at her.
"Hector Walter," Avery said, "Brody's father. $15 million. She let that number sit there between them for a second. So, you see what I'm saying? " Zoe saw exactly what she was saying. She picked up her water, drank, set it back down. The math was simple and ugly and old.
Money talked, complaints walked. It wasn't complicated. It was just how things worked when the wrong people had enough of the right resources. She'd seen versions of it her whole life, just with smaller numbers attached. "Okay," she said.
Avery stared at her. "Okay? That's what you've got? I mean, I understand. I'm not saying it's okay. " Avery shook her head slowly, like she was still working out exactly who she'd ended up living with.
The next two days, Brody made his moves. They were careful moves, the kind that could always be explained away if anyone asked. The first was the lunch tray, Tuesday. Zoe was carrying hers from the serving line, navigating a crowded dining hall, and Brody came the other way with his group, and his elbow caught the edge of her tray just enough to slosh orange juice across her sleeve. He kept walking, didn't stop.
One of his friends laughed, Theo Bassett, big, with small eyes and a permanent smirk, already had his phone out, already recording. The second was Wednesday, the courtyard between the science building and the library, where students spilled out between classes. Zoe was crossing it with her head down, reading notes on her phone, when she heard it. "Yo, nice shoes. " Brody's voice, easy and carrying, aimed at her from where he stood with four others. A couple of students nearby looked over.
"Are those from the discount bin or" He tilted his head. "Yeah, discount bin. " Laughter, scattered, but enough. Zoe stopped. She looked at him. She took a breath in through her nose, slow and quiet, the way Grandpa Robert had taught her when she was 8 years old and furious after her first real loss on the mat, a girl 2 years older who had gotten inside her guard and stayed there.
She had come off that mat red-faced and ready to cry, and Robert had sat her down on a bench and said the same thing he always said when she let the heat get to her. "The loudest person in the room is usually the most afraid. " She had not understood it at eight. She understood it better now. Watching Brody Walter perform for four people in a campus courtyard in the middle of the afternoon. She said nothing.
She kept walking. Behind her, Theo Bassett lowered his phone. The video was already saved. That night, Zoe sat on her dorm bed and did her reading for her biology class, and Avery sat across from her doing the same thing, and neither of them talked about Brody Walter. There was nothing new to say.
Avery was worried. Zoe could see it in the way her dormmate kept glancing up, but she also understood by now that Zoe didn't want to be talked at. She just wanted to move through it at her own speed. Zoe reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out the small photograph. Robert Oakerson.
1987. A tournament somewhere in Georgia. The name of the venue faded at the bottom. He was young in the photo. Younger than she ever really thought of him being.
And he was grinning like someone had just told him the best news of his life. Arms at his sides, chest out. Not performing. Just certain. She pinned it to the cork board above her desk and looked at it for a moment.
Then she turned back to her textbook and kept reading. Two floors down, Brody Walter typed a message to Theo Bassett. Short. Purposeful. Friday.
Recreation Center. Open practice. He pressed send and put his phone face down on his desk. Friday came the way trouble usually did. Sunny, ordinary, giving no warning.
The recreation center was alive by mid-afternoon. The karate club held open practice every Friday. Doors wide, anyone welcome to watch. It was part of how Brody Walter had built his reputation, visible, public, impossible to ignore. The room smelled like rubber mats and effort.
Music thumped from a small Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Students in white GIs moved through drills while a larger group of spectators lined the walls, some sitting on the bleachers, some just passing through. Zoe and Avery were passing through. They were heading to the campus gym on the far side of the building. Zoe had a habit of training on Friday afternoons.
Nothing organized, just movement. Just the quiet satisfaction of using her body the way Robert had taught her. She had her gym bag over one shoulder. She was not thinking about Brody Walter. Then, she was.
"Hey. " His voice came from the center of the room, easy and carrying, aimed like something thrown. "New girl. " Zoe stopped. Avery stopped half a step later. Brody stood in the middle of the main mat, surrounded by his usual circle. He was in his GI, black belt tied loose at his waist, arms relaxed at his sides.