The three of them looked at each other in the way of people who had arrived at a group decision without discussing it.
"Fuck this, we're leaving."
Then they left—neither running nor walking slowly.
Mike watched them go until they turned the corner.
'Ah shit... I should've asked for their names, but at least I remember their faces.' Mike thought. 'I'm going to have them as my friends, only to see if they have a girlfriend or a mother I could fuck with.'
Then he turned around.
The man with the glasses was standing exactly where he had been, books in arms now, looking at Mike with equal measures of gratitude and the specific shock that occurs when something you had given up expecting actually happens.
'Now that I think about it again... this is fucking stupid and disgusting... why do I have to prioritize protecting a bullying victim first?'
"Tyler Schmith," he said, which appeared to be his version of an introduction under stress.
"Mike Hawk," Mike said.
