And they were agonizingly human.
"I carried the shame," I whispered, the realization settling over me like a heavy coat. "For years, I thought I was the one who was wrong. I thought my body was the problem."
I looked at the scattered crumbs on my plate.
"But you carried the guilt," I said. "You've been walking around with "Graduation Girl" on your backs just as much as I have."
"Heavier," Anders murmured. "You were the victim of biology. We were the perpetrators of indifference. That leaves a mark."
"We can't fix it," Daniel said. "Can't go back to the gym. Can't knock over the mic stand."
"We can't rip the page out of the sketchbook," Simon added quietly.
"But," Anders leaned forward, his blue eyes intense, locking onto mine with a ferocity that made my breath hitch. "We can rewrite the ending."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"We failed to be useful," Anders said. "Today, those ghosts are gone. I don't follow rules anymore; I make them. Simon doesn't just watch; he sees. And Daniel… Daniel isn't quiet."
"We aren't asking for forgiveness," Daniel said, his voice dropping into that soothing, resonant register that vibrated through the floorboards. "We haven't earned it. We're asking for a job."
"A job?"
"Let us be useful," Simon said, finally looking me in the eye. "Let us be the buffer. Anders can kill the internet for you. I can draw the version of you that isn't a victim. Daniel can… Daniel can hold the world back."
I looked at them.
They weren't the villains of my story anymore. They were the rough drafts of the heroes I wrote about. They were men who had broken, just like me, and had spent years trying to glue themselves back together in the shape of something stronger.
And right now, trapped in a glass house, I realized something terrifying.
I didn't want them to leave.
I picked up my fork. The metal felt cool and solid in my hand.
"The bridge is out," I said, my voice steady. "So you have nowhere to go."
I took a bite of the sausage. It was spicy, rich, and grounding.
"And," I added, looking at Anders, "you missed a spot on the firewall. The Nexus backdoor is still open on the tertiary server."
Anders blinked. Then, a slow, sharp smile cut across his face, a predator recognizing a fellow hunter.
"I'll patch it after dinner," he said.
"See that you do," I said. "I don't pay ten percent for holes in my armor."
The tension at the table didn't vanish, but it changed. It shifted from the brittle, jagged tension of a standoff to the hum of a machine starting to run.
Daniel let out a breath and picked up his water glass. Simon actually took a bite of food.
We were eating. We were surviving.
And for the first time in years, I wasn't sitting alone in the cafeteria. I was sitting at the head of the table.
FIFTEEN
Simon
