63
JASON
By the time break rolled around, it felt like I was being stalked by my own shadow—except the shadow had mouths, and every single one of them wouldn’t shut up. The cafeteria was a zoo, packed wall to wall with bodies and chatter, trays clattering, chairs scraping, the air thick with the smell of greasy fries and overcooked chicken. I had barely stepped in when the first table of juniors spotted me, and just like that, the swarm shifted. Heads turned, whispers snaked across the room, and suddenly it was like I’d become the main attraction at some traveling freak show.
“Yo, Jason, is it true the flames didn’t touch you?” one guy called, practically standing on his chair so his voice carried.
“Tell us what it felt like!” someone else chimed in, dropping their soda can in their r
