The classroom transformed into an arena, desks shoved aside, shadows retreating. The bullies arranged themselves into a loose circle. The air hummed electric backing drums of anticipation.
Ramos cracked his knuckles. "Five strikes. You dodge each one—one crystal apiece."
The others nodded. Daryn counted out the first bets, stacking colored crystals on the desk like chips in a street game.
Ramos stepped forward. The student backed up, knees hunched, eyes forward.
The air snapped still.
Then Ramos lunged.
Fist arced.
The student ducked. Pivoted.
Ramos recovered.
He jabbed again—harder.
The student slid backward—clean.
Kellan and Daryn exclaimed. "There it is!"
Two down.
Three to go.
The next blow—a heavy cross. The student sidestepped, just in time.
Three dodges.
Now Ramos was breathing loud, nostrils flaring. He feinted high and drove low.
The student split the difference—leaned into the spin, torqued his foot.
Four.
The group cheered.
