Leo exhaled. He glanced at Marcus, who gave him a tiny, almost invisible nod. The game was gone. The proxy was burned. But for the remaining twenty minutes of class, the air was different. The fluorescent lights seemed a little less harsh. The Treaty of Versailles a little less dull.
Leo’s friend Marcus had sent him a single message in their shared, untitled Google Chat: yo. i found it.
He stopped right behind Leo.