At first, he thought it was nerves or maybe bad cafeteria milk. His pencil slipped. A bead of sweat broke across his forehead. Connor rolled his eyes at his dramatics until, minutes later, Malik followed suit. Desks squeaked as two boys bolted for the hallway bathrooms.
By lunch, three more followed. The cafeteria echoed with laughter as one by one, the Nightcrows doubled over, clenching their midsections, and sprinting awkwardly toward the stalls. Their once-invincible swagger dissolved into frantic shuffling runs. Someone shouted, “Looks like the Nightcrows have really learned to fly—to the loo!” Phones were whipped out gleefully.