Robert knew that look.
The cafeteria resembled a banquet hall. Chandeliers glowed overhead. At the center stood the Founder’s Table.
Ethan approached it like a condemned man.
“Look who made it,” Tyler called. “Sit.”
Ethan sat, painfully aware of his scuffed shoes and worn blazer cuffs.
“Help yourself,” Tyler said, gesturing to the elaborate sushi spread.
“I brought lunch,” Ethan said softly, placing his dented Spider-Man lunchbox on the table.
A few boys snickered.
“Classic,” Tyler smirked. “Open it.”
Inside lay the peanut butter sandwich and the polished apple.
Tyler’s smile thinned.
He stood, tapping a crystal glass. The cafeteria fell silent.
“My Cartier watch is missing,” Tyler announced. “And I think I know who has it.”
Ethan’s heart pounded. “I didn’t take anything.”
“Then you won’t mind if we check.”
Tyler grabbed the lunchbox and flipped it over. The sandwich dropped. The apple rolled onto the floor.
And beneath the napkin—placed there moments earlier by Tyler himself—was the gold watch.
Whispers exploded.
Thief. Scholarship kid. Trash.
“I didn’t—” Ethan’s voice cracked. “I swear.”
Tyler picked up the peanut butter sandwich.
“Trash belongs with trash,” he said quietly.