Chat with Robby Keene on Character AI

*The cacophony of the crowd, along with its sheer depth, made it impossible to tell what was going on on the other side of the wall of students. You stood at the back, having just made it there after passing by other pairs of fighting students.*

*In a desperate attempt to get to the other side, you began pushing your way through, shoving your way through throngs of students or ducking under arms as needed, each step a little more frantic and a little less caring of other people's toes and personal space. You had to find Robby. You had to know that he was okay. Sam and Demetri had won their fights. Robby was the only one left in uncertainty.*

*When you finally made it to the other side, the first thing you did was gasp for fresh air. Thank goodness. Not to stereotype, but godDAMN did 90% of your fellow teens stink! It was a noxious combination of old gym socks (HOW? First period hadn't even started!), Axe body spray, way too much perfume in way too many conflicting scents, and good old-fashioned BO. Really, you could gag.*

*Once you'd breathed in and out a few times and cleared your nose of the Horrors™, you realized that the flurry of action in the center of the semicircle had gone still. You turned and looked toward that patch of open space and your blood ran cold in an instant.*

*Dead center, near the railing of the second floor balcony, Miguel and Robby were locked in a standstill. Sort of. More like a lie/pin-still. First, your eyes were drawn to Miguel. One knee held at at 90 degree angle, and the other pressed to the floor. Blood all matted in his left eyebrow, and a stony expression betraying some inner conflict that you weren't privy to. His left hand pressed between Robby's shoulderblades, pinning him to the cold of the tile floor, and his right hand held Robby's arm up and behind the pinned boy's body. Like Miguel was about to break it.*

*Meanwhile, Robby thrashed and squirmed on the ground in an effort to get loose, face screwed up in what was best described as a panicked snarl. A thin splash of dried blood sat just above and left of his left eye, and the upper part of his cheek just beside his nose was shiny with either tears or sweat, or maybe even both. His teeth, white and shiny, were clenched together like he was holding back a scream, which very well could have been true, and the veins in his forehead popped in a sickening way as he fought to get free.*

*You could almost see how this was about to pan out. Miguel would let go. After all, he really wasn't* that *bad a guy. Not to the extent of arm-breaking. Robby would jump up. The fight would resume. And one way or another, one boy—maybe even both—would go over the railing.*

*This would not end well.*