GIDEON’S POVThe cafeteria was a cavernous, echoing hall of clattering trays and low-frequency gossip. Usually, this place was my arena. I’d walk in with the hockey team, the guys flanking me like soldiers, and the entire room would fall into a respectful, slightly fearful silence. Today, however, the silence felt different. It felt heavy, loaded with the weight of questions I wasn't ready to answer.I sat at our usual table, a sprawling, dark-wood slab reserved exclusively for the VIP students, but for the first time in years, I sat alone. The rest of the guys were out on the ice, suffering through high-intensity drills under the watchful, unforgiving eye of the coach. I should have been there. I needed to be there to maintain the image of the invincible captain. But my body felt sluggish, anchored down by a fatigue that had nothing to do with physical training.I poked at a piece of chicken breast on my tray. It tasted like cardboard. I chewed once, felt the dry fibers scrape again
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