When school ended at three-fifteen, Marco practically grabbed Jason by the shirt.
"This is your last chance, man. We can still get out of this. We can go to my house, tell my mom you are sick, anything. Please, Jason. I am begging you."
Jason gathered his books slowly and deliberately. All around them, students were rushing toward the exits, but many were lingering in the hallways, clearly planning to follow them outside to watch the fight.
"Marco, I understand that you are worried about me, and I appreciate your friendship. But this is something I have to do."
"You do not have to do anything! You could just avoid them for the rest of the year!"
"And then what? Spend the next eight months looking over my shoulder? Change my schedule around their convenience? Allow them to dictate how I live my life?"
Marco's eyes were actually starting to water with frustration. "Yes! If that keeps you from getting hospitalized!"
Jason closed his locker and shouldered his backpack. The hallways were buzzing with excitement and tension. He could see groups of students gathering near the exit doors, phones in their hands, ready to record whatever was about to happen.
"It is time to go, Marco."
"Jason, please..."
But Jason was already walking toward the main entrance, moving through the crowd of students like he was heading to a casual appointment instead of a potentially violent confrontation.
Marco hurried after him, still pleading. "At least let me come with you! At least let me try to help!"
"You can watch if you want to, but do not get involved. I do not want you to get hurt."
"I do not want YOU to get hurt!"
They pushed through the main doors into the parking lot. Jason could feel sweat on his palms despite the cold. Not from fear, but from anticipation.
A crowd had already formed in the parking lot. At least thirty students were standing around in a loose circle, their phones out, chattering excitedly about what was going to happen. Some of them looked nervous, others seemed thrilled by the prospect of violence.
"Oh fuck, there they are," someone whispered.
Brad Morrison, Kevin Walsh, and Danny Chen were waiting near the chain-link fence at the far end of the parking lot. They had chosen their spot carefully—far enough from the school building that teachers would not see, but close enough to the street that they could disappear quickly if anyone called the cops.
Brad was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his fists clenched and his jaw tight. Kevin was cracking his knuckles loudly and rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a workout. Danny was leaning against the fence, trying to look casual, but Jason could see the tension in his posture.
"Last chance," Marco whispered desperately. "We can still walk away."
Jason started walking across the parking lot toward the three seniors. Behind him, he could hear the crowd following at a safe distance, phones recording, voices excited and nervous.
"Holy shit, he is actually going to do it."
"This is going to be brutal."
"Someone should call 911."
"Nah, let them fight. Morrison has been asking for this for years."
When Jason was about twenty feet away from the three seniors, Brad stopped pacing and turned to face him.
"Well, well," Brad called out, his voice carrying across the parking lot. "Look who fucking showed up. I was starting to think you had chickened out and gone crying home to mommy."
"I told you I would be here, and here I am," Jason replied calmly.
"You got some real balls, DuPont, I will give you that," Kevin said, stepping forward. "Too bad we are about to rearrange them for you."
Jason set his backpack down carefully on the asphalt and straightened up to face all three of them. The crowd behind him had grown larger, maybe fifty students now, all watching with a mixture of excitement and horror.
"Before we begin," Jason said, his voice carrying clearly in the afternoon air, "I want to make sure everyone understands what is happening here."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Danny demanded.
"I am talking about three seniors who think they can intimidate a younger student through threats of violence. I am talking about bullies who have spent years making other people's lives miserable because they think might makes right."
Brad's face was turning red. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Think you're better than us?"
"I do not think I am better than you," Jason replied evenly. "I know I am."
That was apparently the last straw. Kevin let out a roar of rage and charged across the twenty feet of asphalt separating them, his fists raised and his face twisted with fury.
But Jason had been expecting this. Years as a federal prosecutor meant dealing with dangerous criminals who were far bigger and stronger than he was. Court security training had taught him how to handle men twice his size, how to use leverage and momentum instead of brute strength. Kevin was moving like he was underwater compared to the murderers and drug dealers Jason had faced.
Jason sidestepped the clumsy charge at the last second, grabbed Kevin's extended arm, and used the bigger boy's own momentum to send him crashing face-first into the chain-link fence behind him.
The crowd gasped collectively as Kevin bounced off the metal fencing and stumbled backward, blood streaming from his nose.
"What the fuck!" Brad stared in shock as his friend hit the ground hard, writhing in pain on the asphalt. "Kevin!"
Danny took a step back, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How did you..."
Jason stood over Kevin's groaning form, barely breathing hard, his clothes still neat and his hair still in place. He looked around at the shocked faces in the crowd, then at Brad Morrison and Danny Chen, who were both standing frozen in complete disbelief.
Then Jason smiled and raised his hand, beckoning them forward with a slow, deliberate gesture that looked like something out of an old martial arts movie.
"Come on then," he said quietly, but his voice carried clearly across the silent parking lot. "Come at me, you pussies."