The third kid, chewing gum loudly, flicked a pebble at Jayden's shoe. "What you going to do? Cry on your little violin?"
Jayden clenched his jaw. His heart thumped hard. He didn't want trouble; he didn't want to fight. He wanted to play. Just play.
"I'm not bothering anyone," he said quietly.
Red Jacket snorted. "You breathing is bothering us."
A flash of heat rose in Jayden's chest—anger mixed with humiliation, the same burn he'd felt yesterday at the academy gates. But before he could step back or walk away, Beanie Boy lunged forward and snatched the violin bow right out of his hand.
"Hey!" Jayden reached for it.
Beanie twirled it between his fingers like a baton. "Man, this thing is cheap. Looks like it came from a yard sale."
Red Jacket laughed, grabbing the violin case. "Think it'll break if I drop it?"
"No, please!" Jayden stumbled toward them, panic igniting behind his ribs. "Give it back! Now!"
The boys laughed harder. Red Jacket dangled the violin over the grass. "Relax, dude. We're just—whoa."
His grip loosened for half a second. The violin slipped.
Jayden lunged forward. Too late.
It hit the frozen ground with a dull, cracking sound—a sound that sliced him open.
"Oops," Red Jacket said, shrugging. "Guess it really was cheap."
Jayden dropped to his knees. He lifted the violin with trembling hands. A new fracture ran deep along the bottom seam, splitting the wood like a wound. His breath vanished. He clutched it to his chest, the world narrowing to the broken curve in the lacquer.
"That was my dad's," he whispered. It came out thin, strangled.
The boys went quiet for a beat. Then Gum Chewer smirked. "Should have taken better care of it."