The sight of police leading Derrick Kane through Roosevelt's main hall will be burned into my memory forever.
No handcuffs. No shouting. Just two officers at his side, walking him past rows of silent students. The crowd parted like glass cracking—everyone watching, nobody breathing.
Derrick kept his head up. No hoodie this time. No smirk either. Just a hard stare forward, jaw clenched, fists buried in his pockets. He didn't look scared. He didn't look angry. He looked… unreadable. And that was worse.
The whispers began before the front doors even shut.
"I heard he got arrested."
"No, it's just questioning."
"Questioning for what? He broke Tyler's jaw!"
"Nah, it's bigger than that—my cousin said it's something outside school. Real serious."
"Maybe drugs. Maybe gangs."
The stories grew wilder with each corner turned. Some painted him as a criminal mastermind, others as a tragic victim. The only thing everyone agreed on was this: Derrick Kane wasn't just Roosevelt's bad boy anymore. He was Roosevelt's mystery.
Teachers tried to calm the chaos, but their eyes betrayed them. They didn't know anything either. And when adults are in the dark, kids light fires with rumors.
By the time the last bell rang, Derrick was gone. No one knew where. The field, the bleachers, the hallways—his presence was a ghost that haunted every step.
---
That night, texts flew through group chats like sparks from a broken wire. Screens lit up with theories, jokes, panic. But buried deep in the flood of nonsense came one message—short, sharp, impossible to ignore.
"It wasn't about the fight. It's about his family."
I stared at the words, my stomach sinking. Suddenly, all the noise, all the rumors, all the chaos—it didn't matter. Because the truth wasn't in the hallways. It was somewhere darker. Somewhere Derrick had been hiding all along.
And now, the cracks were starting to show.
---