Ivan looked <b>up </b>and found himself face–to–face with a boy at least a head taller than him, nked by two slightly shorter boys. The three closed in, boxing him into a corner, while the other kids on the yground fell silent and turned to watch


    He pressed his lips together, wanting to say “hello,” but the word got stuck in his throat. No sound came out.


    The tall boy scowled impatiently and shoved him.


    “Hey, are you deaf or blind? I asked what your name is!”


    Ivan stared at him, suddenly struggling to breathe. His face drained of color, and he clutched his chest, gasping for air.


    The sight rattled the three boys.


    “Hey! I didn’t do anything to you–what’s wrong with you?” the ringleader


    stammered, panic creeping into his voice. “I barely touched you! I just asked your


    name!


    “Zane’s hitting people! Zane hit someone! Tell the teacher–Zane’s picking on someone!” someone shouted from behind them. The ssroom erupted into chaos, and Ivan’s panic only grew.


    “I didn’t hit anyone! I didn’t!” Zane yelled back. More kids gathered, crowding around, and Ivan felt as if the room was closing in on him.


    “Say something! I only gave you a little push, I didn’t do anything!” Zane’s eyes filled with tears. He never meant any harm–sure, he was bigger than most, but that didn’t. mean he wanted to hurt anyone.


    “What’s going on over there? Why are you all crowding around my desk?” A voice cut through themotion from the front of the room.


    “York, Zane’s picking on your new seatmate!”


    “I am not!” Zane blurted out, voice cracking<b>. </b>


    “Seatmate?” York paused/confused.


    “Yeah, and he’s really cute!” someone chimed in, always eager for drama.


    York’s confusion vanished as he realized what was happening. He rushed over, the crowd parted quickly to let him through.


    and


    “Ivan! Are you okay?” York asked, anxiety written all over his face as he knelt beside


    11:55


    Ivan, hands <b>fluttering </b>helplessly.


    “Ivan, It’s me–York. Are you alright? Do <b>you </b>feel sick?”


    Ivan didn’t answer, and York’s worry only grew. He turned to re at Zane<b>. </b>


    “What did you do to him?”


    The usation startled Zane, who began sobbing in earnest, tears and snot streaming down his face.


    “I didn’t do anything! I just pushed him, I swear I didn’t mean to–I don’t know what happened “Zane’s cries grew louder, and the kids nearby snickered, only making York angrier.


    “Back off, all of you!” York snapped. The crowd quieted and shuffled back.


    York crouched in front of Ivan, gently covering Ivan’s trembling hands with his own.


    “Ivan, it’s me, York. It’s okay now–I’m here. Can you talk to me? Please, don’t scare me like this.”


    He pressed his forehead to Ivan’s, trying to ground him. Slowly, the noise in Ivan’s mind faded, reced by the steadyfort of York’s voice.


    “York…” Ivan whispered, his voice faint and shaky. It was the first time he’d ever said York’s name out loud.


    Unlike Zane’s noisy, blubbering sobs–so grating and dramatic–Ivan just sat there, pale and fragile, his red–rimmed eyes making him look even more delicate. The sight tugged at York’s heart.


    “I’m right here–don’t cry, okay? Did he mess with you? Just say the word and I’ll punch him for you.”