On my return, I pass him by the lockers. He's by the lockers. Ronin Beaufort. That's his name. I haven't seen him much around Angelwood: he was homeschooled throughout middle school. Came back again for his final years in Angelwood High. Boys pass by Ronin, entering the toilets and out again. Ronin looks at me and only me. ... He doesn't need to watch me. I don't need to look at him. But he calls. "Stranger." And I stop. "And you are?" He smiles thinly. "Ronin. Beaufort. But you knew that, Ther." Jesus. I roll my eyes. I stroll towards Ronin. Head high, back straight. I'm goddess of this school and he's- an a-hole of nothing. "I don't know who you are." It's a lie. Of course I know who he is. Ave Beaufort's brother, in all of his edgy glory. Of course I know. The boys go in and out of the toilets, like a cycle of flies. Going in, buzzing out. Hovering: mildly intrigued by whatever this confrontation is. They tend to want to know what Ethereality Estridge is doing. "Sure you don't," Ronin says. "I don't know who you are, either." Ugh. "Somethin' wrong, Ther?" Somethin' wrong, Ther?" You. Nothing. "Direct," Ronin says. "I like it." "Nothing, nothing," Ronin says. "That goes knockin'." He raps his fist against his skull and grins. Get out of my sight. Ronin gets out of my sight. He strolls into the boys' toilets. His boots clack with him, echoing through the floorboards. Each crack is as sharp as a bullet. I exhale. Thank Christ. I wouldn't know how to deal with him, otherwise. I need to get out of here. I need to find Craig.