Middle school is hell, especially when your name is Noah Greaves.
He didn't know what he had done to deserve it. Maybe it was his quiet voice. Maybe it was the secondhand hoodie he wore every day. Maybe it was just his existence. But from the first week of seventh grade, he became the target.
They called him "No-Wit Noah," "Lurch," and once, "Rain Man" because he answered too many questions in math class. He tried to laugh it off. He tried to stay invisible. But pain has a way of sticking to you, like wet gum on your shoe.
It wasn't just the punches or the names—it was the silence. The teachers who turned their eyes. The classmates who giggled but never helped. Even the guidance counselor, who smiled a little too hard and gave advice like, "Just be confident."
Confidence didn't stop Marcus.
