Everyone else had left the classroom, leaving only Gabriel and Jai-Lee behind.
She didn't say anything at first. She just stood there, arms crossed, eyes locked on him like she was holding something back—like she was trying not to yell.
Then came the question. Quiet, but sharp.
"Why did you do that?"
Gabriel kept his eyes on the desk. "I have to."
"No, you don't," she snapped. "You have to breathe, you have to eat, you do not have to fight that big-ass guy." Her voice cracked slightly, rising with each word. "Gabe, this is serious. Before you came here, Harry put a kid in the hospital. They said it was a freak accident, but I don't buy that for a second. If he wasn't captain of the football team and the school didn't need him for football, he would've been expelled a long time ago."
Her words scared him.
But it was too late. He was in too deep.
"I have to," he repeated.
"No. You don't. This isn't proving anything except that he can drag you down to his level."
"I'm tired of backing down."
"You're not backing down," she said, stepping closer. "You're being the smart one."
But Gabriel had already zipped his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He walked past her and into the hallway.
The second he stepped out, the buzzing started. You could feel it in the air. Eyes followed him. Whispers trailed behind him like cigarette smoke. The news had spread faster than a fire in dry grass: Gabriel was going to fight Harry. After school. Behind the gym.
Everyone expected Harry to be involved in a fight. That was routine. But Gabriel? The quiet kid who kept his head down and his mouth shut? That's what got people excited.
The walk to the back lot felt longer than usual. By the time he reached it, the sun was already starting to dip behind the rooftops, casting shadows across the pavement. The area behind the gym was usually empty—used for forgotten sports equipment or as a hangout for kids who ditched detention.
But today?
It was full to the brim.
Dozens of students ringed the area, some leaning against the brick wall, others perched on crates or standing on their tiptoes to get a better view. Phones were already out. People were laughing, shouting, hyping it up like it was some underground event.
In the middle of the circle stood Harry. Barefoot. Calm. Smirking. Like he was about to swat a fly.
Gabriel hesitated at the edge.
Then he stepped forward.
Jai-Lee followed close behind, her expression tight with worry, but he turned before they got too far.
"Stay back."
She grabbed his arm. "Don't do this. You have no idea how stupid this is , you're only going to get yourself hurt."
Gabriel pulled away. His jaw tightened. His eyes didn't waver.
"Gabe!"
He didn't answer.
He stepped right into the circle without hesitation.
The noise rose instantly—cheers, chants, a hundred voices yelling "fight!" like they were spectators in a gladiator's arena.
Harry bounced on his heels, stretching his neck lazily like this was just a warm-up.
"You sure about this?" he said, bouncing on his heels with a cocky grin.
Gabriel said nothing. He just took off his backpack and dropped it to the ground.
The crowd erupted.
Then came the first punch.
Harry moved like a predator—big, fast, and violent. His fist caught Gabriel across the cheek, snapping his head sideways. A crack echoed. The roar of the crowd followed like thunder.
Gabriel staggered but didn't go down. His legs held on. Barely.
He raised his hands like he'd seen in old action movies, trying to shield his face. He'd never actually been in a fight. Not a real one. But his instincts kicked in—protect your head, keep moving, don't freeze.
He swung.
A clumsy punch aimed for Harry's jaw.
But Harry was faster. Too fast.
He ducked, then slammed his fist into Gabriel's ribs. The air whooshed out of Gabriel's lungs. Another hit. Then another. The pain came in bursts—sharp and hot and all-consuming. Somewhere in the distance, he heard someone scream. A girl's voice.
Jai-Lee.
Gabriel fought back, aiming another punch blindly—and this one connected. Right in Harry's throat.
The crowd gasped.
Harry staggered back, choking. He clutched at his neck, struggling to breathe.
Gabriel wiped his face, confused by the warmth on his lip. His fingers came back red.
Blood.
He barely had time to register it before pain exploded across his side. Harry had lunged like a charging bull, shoulder-first. They both tumbled to the ground.
"Is that all the private school money bought you?" Harry spat, voice ragged but sharp like a dagger.
That made something in Gabriel snap.
They both got to their feet and Gabriel rushed forward, but Harry sidestepped and swept Gabriel's legs out from under him. He hit the pavement hard. The taste of gravel filled his mouth.
The crowd didn't care. They kept screaming, laughing, recording.
"Stop it! That's enough!" someone shouted. Jai-Lee again.
Harry didn't stop.
He dropped down, grabbing Gabriel by the collar and landing another punch—this one to the stomach. Gabriel curled inward, coughing hard. It felt like his insides were breaking.
"You're weak," Harry whispered, his breath hot and hateful. "Just like I thought."
Then—like a lightning bolt—Vice Principal Ramirez's voice sliced through the noise.
"Break it up! NOW!"
Chaos followed. The crowd scattered like cockroaches. Phones disappeared. Students vanished into the halls.
Ramirez knelt beside Gabriel, who nodded when asked if he could stand.
Harry didn't say a word, he just stood there, eyes cold, as Ramirez pointed at him.
"My office. Now."
But even as they walked away, Gabriel knew the damage was done.
The fight would be all over school within the hour. The videos, the angles, the edits. He wouldn't just have bruises. He'd have a permanent highlight reel.
Jai-Lee was beside him in an instant. She dropped to her knees, lifting his head gently.
"You idiot," she whispered, her voice shaking. "That has to be the dumbest thing you've ever done."
He tried to smile. It hurt.
"I had to."
"No," she said, eyes glassy. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. You didn't. Nothing changed. You didn't win. He didn't stop. And you—you could've been seriously hurt."
She helped him to his feet. He leaned against her until the dizziness passed. Together, they walked toward the parking lot.
That night, Gabriel limped into his house.
Each step burned. Every bruise pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own.
He barely got the front door open before he heard his mom's voice.
"Young man, not so fast—where were you? Your brother had to walk home alone—"
She stopped cold.
"Gabriel..." Her voice dropped. "What happened?"
He didn't answer. He walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch with a grunt, his body screaming in protest.
Nicole followed him, standing in front of him, arms folded.
"Who did this to you?"
"Mom, I don't wanna talk about it," he muttered.
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
He rubbed his jaw and avoided her gaze.
"Can we talk about it later? I promise I'm okay."
Her expression softened—but not completely. Worry and disappointment warred in her eyes.
"Was it a fight or a beating?"
Gabriel hesitated.
Then: "It was a fight."
She sighed and sat beside him.
"You should've walked away."
"I know," he whispered. "Trust me, I know."
She didn't yell. She didn't scold. She just placed a gentle hand on his knee.
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone."
"I wasn't trying to," he said. "I just wanted it to stop."
"It will," she said softly. "But not like this. Some battles aren't yours to fight. And some people... they're not worth the bruises."
Gabriel didn't respond. He just nodded, eyes closed, letting the silence take hold.
The next day at school felt... off.
Students didn't meet his eyes. Some smirked. A few muttered things under their breath. But it wasn't respect. It wasn't fear.
It was amusement.
The fight hadn't made him stronger. It hadn't changed anyone's mind. It just gave them a story to talk about. A meme to share. A moment to laugh at.
On the morning announcements, Harry's punishment was listed: three-day suspension.
That was it.
Gabriel barely heard the rest.
During lunch, he skipped the cafeteria again and sat beneath the old oak behind the track.
Jai-Lee found him there.
She didn't say anything at first. Just sat beside him, cross-legged in the grass.
After a moment, she asked quietly, "You okay?"
He stared at the ground.
"Yeah... I guess."
She gave him a small smile. "You'll be alright."
And for once, he didn't answer.
They just sat there—together, but silent—trying to breathe through the weight of it all.