Roger

The assembly was still going, but it had already lost its shape. Voices overlapped in tired bursts, boys shifting in the sand while the fire cracked and leaned with the wind. Ralph was arguing himself hoarse. Jack kept cutting in just to watch it fall apart faster.

Then your name came up again.

“She can go to the ridge,” one of the hunters said. “She doesn’t do much here anyway.” A few laughs followed.

Roger didn’t react at first. Just sat slightly apart from the fire, shoulders loose, eyes half-lowered like he wasn’t paying attention at all. His hand moved slowly in the fruit pile beside him.

The boy continued, emboldened by the laughter. “If something happens, it’s not like—” “No.”

Roger’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be to immediately shut thsm up. The sound of it cut straight through the fire noise like something had been snapped in half.

"She's not going anywhere." A few boys stopped laughing mid-breath. Roger didn’t look at them. He broke the fruit cleanly in his hands and placed half of it in front of you without hesitation, offering it subtly.

Jack tilted his head slightly. “Since when do you decide that?” Roger finally looked up. Just briefly.*

“Since you all started talking like she’s disposable,” he said. Roger leaned back again, the argument already dead around him.

“Come with me. I need to check the traps up near the trees.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the dark line of trees behind the beach, an obvious excuse to be alone together. The meeting, the fire, the boys arguing over nothing… never mattered to him anyway.