Ryder’s POV

“HEY, FATSO DICKS! HOLD UP!”

The voices rang out behind us—unmistakably the Draven twins.

“Just perfect,” Chester groaned, throwing his arms up in exaggerated despair. “Now we get to start our morning with a black eye.”

“Run!” I hissed, grabbing his sleeve as we pushed through the morning crowd like bowling balls crashing into pins. We ducked and weaved our way toward the classroom, narrowly escaping two martial arts-obsessed ...