The evening sun hung low, painting the sky in shades of orange and red, casting a warm glow over the city. The sports event had officially ended, but the energy hadn't faded. If anything, it had spread into every corner of the school and beyond.
Winning wasn't just about the points; it was about pride, about the chance to stand shoulder to shoulder with people who had fought alongside you. That's what tonight was about. Everyone—winners, runners-up, even those who didn't place—was celebrating. Food stalls, laughter, and chatter filled the streets around the mall. It felt like a festival, one where alliances formed during the day were now being toasted.
Our team, Class 1-A, and our allies from Class 1-C were no different. Zach had practically dragged our whole team, saying, "First place deserves first-rate celebrations."
We found ourselves in the food court, occupying a cluster of tables. Though smaller groups scattered into their own corners, the energy and camaraderie tied us together. Everyone was present, not just for the food but to celebrate the victory. I sat beside Zach, while Sarah and Lena joined us, their laughter mixing with the hum of the crowded mall. Few more faces joined us including Neha and Claire.
Before our food came in, Sarah stood up abruptly, clearing her throat in mock seriousness. She looked every bit like someone about to make a grand announcement. "Hello, everyone!" she said, drawing all eyes to her. "Before we dig in, let's take a moment to congratulate ourselves—and especially Neha, Zach and Daniel—for their stellar performances today!"
The group erupted into claps and cheers, with a few playful whistles thrown in. I felt my face warm at the mention, but I managed a small smile. Sarah sat back down, grinning as if she'd just won a debate.
As food arrived, conversations flowed naturally. Some faces I knew only vaguely were now turning toward me, asking questions, sharing stories, or simply laughing at Zach's jokes. It was... different. For once, I didn't feel out of place. Still, it was clear that some people had other intentions—forming new circles, testing the waters for friendship beyond today.
Once we'd eaten our fill, the group started moving. It wasn't just a meal; it turned into a walking celebration. We roamed from shop to shop, the collective buzz of excitement carrying us forward. Somewhere along the way, our group from Class 1-A and Class 1-C mingled with Ryan and his team from Class 1-B and Class 1-D, who were celebrating their own victories nearby.
Suddenly, the entire first-year cohort stood together in the mall courtyard—a sprawling, boisterous crowd. It felt like a tide pulling us all into one massive, unified group. At the head of it were Julian and Zach, leading the charge like self-appointed generals.
"This is it!" Julian declared, raising his voice above the chatter. "All the first years—together. One team. One force!"
Zach, ever the showman, grinned and joined in. "Yeah, first years undefeated! Let's hear it—First years! First years!"
The chant began hesitantly, a few voices testing the waters. But with Julian's persistence and Zach's energy, it grew louder, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
I found myself at the back of the group, standing alongside Ryan, Adrian, and Ethan. The four of us exchanged amused glances, shaking our heads at the over-the-top display. I couldn't help but smile—it was embarrassing, but in a way that felt oddly endearing.
Zach and Julian seemed to thrive on the attention, their voices rising above the rest. Even Owen and Logan, who had been chatting with Nina, Sarah, and Lena just moments ago, joined in, adding their weight to the chant.
For a moment, the mall belonged to us—first years loud and proud, united in a way that felt unshakable.
Soon, the mall echoed with the sound of our chant, loud enough to turn heads. The sight of all the first-year groups walking together—arms slung around shoulders, laughing and chanting—was a spectacle. It wasn't just about the words; it was about the rhythm, the shared energy, the way it made us feel invincible.
The reaction around us was mixed. Some bystanders smiled, their amusement evident as they passed. Others, particularly the upperclassmen scattered in small groups near the food court, were less entertained.
Walking slightly apart from the loudest group, I noticed it first. The way conversations among the third years grew hushed. The sharp glances exchanged between them. The muttered words I couldn't quite catch but could feel.
Adrian nudged Ryan beside him, his voice low but pointed. "You see that? Third years aren't happy."
Ryan followed his gaze, his jaw tightening as his eyes landed on the group near the fountain. "They'll get over it. We're just celebrating."
But I knew better. The looks weren't fleeting glances of irritation—they lingered, hardening with every passing second. It wasn't just annoyance; it was something colder, heavier.
The chant continued, louder now, echoing through the mall like a wave that refused to break. The energy peaked as we spilled into the open courtyard. The group was practically vibrating with excitement, laughing and chanting with abandon.
And then I saw them.
Near the fountain, a cluster of third years stood waiting, their presence impossible to ignore. Unlike the scattered groups we passed earlier, these guys were deliberate. There was no laughter, no casual chatter. Their postures were stiff, their eyes razor-sharp, following every movement we made.
One of them stepped forward, his pace measured, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Daniel Carter."
The chant died instantly, the silence deafening in its wake. The weight of my name hung in the air, heavier than the tension around us.
"Got a minute?"
For a moment, the whole group faltered. I could feel the shift. The energy that had filled the air seemed to deflate. The chants, the laughter—it was all gone. Now, there was only the sound of nervous murmurs, a quiet that contrasted sharply with the energy we'd had moments before.
Zach, always the first to regain his composure, turned to face the third years. His voice was calm, deliberate, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "If you need to talk to someone, maybe call them personally next time. Walking up to a whole group like that? Not the best look. People might think you're up to something."
Julian, sensing the shift in energy, quickly added, "Alright, team, let's keep moving. We've got plenty more to explore, and the night's still young."
With that, the group slowly started to pick up pace. Conversations restarted, but they were quieter, subdued. The group's energy had dimmed, replaced by cautious words and curious glances. Some faces turned back, eyes filled with questions or unease, but nobody said much.
Except for us.
Ethan, Adrian, Ryan, and I remained rooted in place, watching as the others slowly walked ahead, blending into the crowd. The hum of distant music and bright lights seemed to swallow them up, leaving us behind, standing still.
The third years hadn't moved either. Two of them stepped forward, cutting the distance between us with slow, deliberate strides. Their expressions were blank, but their eyes gave away more than they probably realized.
I noticed it first—a flicker of movement near the corner. Logan and Owen, jogging toward us.
"Made it out," Ryan murmured beside me, his tone more amused than relieved.
Logan slowed to a stop, catching his breath. "Figured this wouldn't just end with a walk," he said, his voice casual, though his eyes scanned the third years warily.
Owen grinned faintly, but his usual lightness wasn't there. "Thought you might need some backup."
Before I could say anything, Ethan stepped forward, breaking the silence.
"I know this isn't about some friendly chat," he said, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the tension. He glanced at the third-years, his expression unreadable. "You've been watching Daniel for a while now. During the events, even before that. So, what is it? Let's hear it."
The taller of the two third-years tilted his head slightly, studying me like he was trying to peel away any layers of pretense. His voice was low but firm, the kind that carried authority without needing to be loud.
"You're right," he said simply. "We've been watching. And we've seen enough to know that every time something happens, you're in the middle of it. Do you even realize the kind of reputation you're dragging behind you?" He paused, his tone growing sharper. "The last fight wasn't just some clash—it got one of us injured. What were you thinking, going around fighting like this? Do you know how it impacts the rest of us?"
I kept my face blank, offering him nothing. My silence wasn't guilt or defiance—it was my way of refusing to let them pin their version of events on me.
The other third-year stepped forward, adding, "We're not trying to play some authority card, but you can't ignore this. Some students come here to study and enjoy their time. What right do you have to mess with that?"
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, his posture tense, but before he could, another voice cut in.
"This isn't going anywhere," Harrison said as he stepped between us, his hands slightly raised in a calming gesture. "Let's not do this here. It's a mall, not some back alley."
Harrison's voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made everyone pause. He wasn't aggressive or confrontational; he was just… firm. The kind of tone that made you reconsider escalating things further.
"I don't know what you've heard," Harrison continued, looking directly at the third-years, "but Daniel isn't someone who'd go around looking for trouble. I've known him long enough to say that with confidence."
The taller third-year narrowed his eyes but didn't argue immediately. It was clear Harrison's calm approach had disarmed him a little.
Before things could either settle or explode, Jake arrived, his presence shifting the tension yet again. He didn't barge in or demand attention, but the way he walked toward us—steady, unhurried—made people notice.
"What's going on here?" Jake asked, his voice even, though there was a slight edge of concern beneath it.
The taller third-year wasted no time. "We're here because of the fight," he said, his tone less sharp now. "And we want to know what this is all about. Why does it always come back to him?" He gestured at me.
Jake stopped a few feet away, his eyes scanning the group. When his gaze landed on me, it wasn't accusatory—it was steady, like he was trying to gauge my reaction before stepping in.
"Alright," Jake said finally, addressing the third-years. "If this is about the last fight, then I'll save you some trouble. It wasn't Daniel's fault."
The wiry third-year frowned. "You're saying it was you?"
Jake nodded, his expression calm but resolute. "Yeah. I was the one who dragged him into it. There were people targeting students at night—causing problems no one else wanted to deal with. I asked Daniel for help because I knew he could handle it. That's all."
The taller third-year crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "And you thought taking matters into your own hands was the right call?"
Jake didn't flinch. "I thought keeping more people from getting hurt was the right call. If you've got a problem with that, fine. But don't pin it on Daniel. He didn't start anything—he just finished what needed to be finished."
The third-years exchanged glances, their frustration obvious but tempered by Jake's calm, direct approach.
Harrison took a step forward, addressing both sides now. "This isn't the place for this kind of conversation. If you're trying to resolve something, do it the right way. No one's going to get anything out of throwing blame around."
The taller third-year held Jake's gaze for a moment longer before letting out a sharp breath. "Fine. But don't think this is over. We're watching."
With that, the third-years turned and left, their group dispersing into the crowd.
Jake exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and turned to me. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. His presence had already said enough.
Walk to the House
Jake, Harrison, Ethan, and the rest of the group walked in a loose formation, the earlier tension mostly gone. Harrison, curious but composed, turned to Jake.
"So, what was that all about?" Harrison asked. "All I've heard are rumors—fights, aftermaths, but no real context."
Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It's not just rumors. A while back, some people started targeting students at night. No one knew who they were or why they were doing it, but it was bad enough to get attention."
"And you thought fighting them was the solution?" Harrison asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.
Jake glanced at me before responding. "It wasn't about picking a fight. It was about stopping something worse from happening. I asked Daniel to help because I thought he could make a difference—but it turned out he was the only one who could stop it."
Harrison nodded slowly, processing the explanation. "Sounds like things got out of hand."
"They always do," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
As the group continued to talk, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, unlocking it without much thought. The message was there, glaring back at me from the screen:
"Are you the Daniel who fought James?"
The words made my stomach tighten, though I didn't show it. Another ripple from the last fight. Another problem waiting to surface.
I kept my expression blank, but my mind was already turning over the possibilities. Was this just someone fishing for information, or was it something more?
Ethan nudged me lightly, his voice breaking into my thoughts. "You good?"
"Yeah," I replied, slipping my phone back into my pocket. I'd deal with this later—on my own.
As we passed a store window, I caught Adrian's reflection. He wasn't looking at the others. His sharp, calculating gaze was fixed on me.
For a moment, I wondered if he'd seen the message, but then his eyes shifted away, and the moment passed. Still, it left a strange tension in the air, one I couldn't quite shake.
At The House
As we walked through the courtyard towards the house, Zach and Julian were already there, standing near the steps like they'd been waiting for us. Their anticipation was practically radiating off them—Zach was even gesturing excitedly before we were close enough to hear.
"I think it'd be better if Ethan or Owen explains what happened," I said loud enough for them to catch as we approached. "I don't even know how to start."
Before anyone could respond, Julian sighed dramatically. "Huh. Where's Ryan? Don't tell me he bailed already. I was hoping to head out with him later." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Can I crash here tonight?"
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, we could've made tonight a party if you'd mentioned it earlier. Missed opportunity."
Zach's expression darkened as his patience wore thin. He wasn't here for small talk—he wanted answers, and his frustration was etched all over his face.
Leaning slightly toward Ethan, I shot Zach a teasing look. "It's not as dramatic as you think it is, Zach. You don't have to be this curious."
Ethan gave me a nudge, his voice deliberate and firm enough for everyone to hear. "Don't downplay it. It is a big deal." He hesitated briefly, his tone softening but still serious. "Just because we've dealt with worse doesn't mean we can shrug this off. No one here wants you getting dragged into more of this stuff again, and I hope it never happens."
His words hung in the air for a moment. I met his gaze, trying to process what he'd said—or maybe how he'd managed to flip my dismissal into something so pointed. A small, inward smile tugged at my lips, though I wasn't sure if it was acknowledgment or a way to deflect the weight of his concern.
"I think my legs are about to give out from all that running," I said finally, using the excuse to retreat. "You handle the debrief. I'm calling it a night."
Without waiting for a reply, I made my way to my room, pushing the door closed behind me. The tension of the day weighed heavily on my shoulders as I peeled off my t-shirt and let it drop to the floor. Collapsing onto the bed, I grabbed my phone, instinctively opening Instagram.
The message was still there, staring back at me like a reminder I didn't want. Ignoring it, I scrolled to Leah's chat instead, typing out a quick update about our win at the sports event. When she didn't respond immediately, I decided to call her, knowing she'd only check if I nudged her.
Our conversation was light, weaving through the highs and lows of the event. I purposefully left out any mention of the confrontation. The laughter in her voice helped ease some of the tension from earlier, though the gaps in our chat left me glancing back at that message.
When our conversation wrapped up, I stared at the screen, my resolve hardening. I couldn't let another situation like today's spiral out of control because of uncertainty.
I knew I should've ignored it. But deep down, I was tired of surprises coming to me. Maybe this time, I'd walk straight into one.
I typed back a short reply:
Who are you?
For a moment, nothing. The user wasn't online. I sighed, wondering if this was all just someone's twisted joke. But before I could put my phone down, they came online—like they'd been waiting for me to reply.
I'm not here for trouble, the message read. Can we meet? If yes, come to The Sterling.
The Sterling. The name alone was enough to give me pause. It wasn't just any place—it was one of the most exclusive boutique hotels in the city. The kind of place where power and money moved behind closed doors, far away from prying eyes.
Why there? Who were they?
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. This could be a prank, sure. But deep down, I had a feeling it wasn't. It was too deliberate.
Finally, I typed:
Yeah, I'll come tomorrow.
As soon as I hit send, I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bedside table. My heart was racing, though I couldn't figure out why. All I knew was that tomorrow, I'd be walking into something far bigger than I'd anticipated.