The first sign came Monday morning: reporters.
Two vans with satellite dishes parked across from Roosevelt's gates, their logos bright against the cracked pavement. By second period, a cameraman was filming kids walking in, hoping for a soundbite. Some students loved it—posing, laughing, shouting Derrick's name like it was a hashtag. Others ducked their heads, terrified of being seen.
The story had spread. Derrick Kane wasn't just Roosevelt's bad boy anymore—he was a headline.
By lunch, it got worse. Kingsdale students showed up at the fence. Not just Tyler Briggs's friends—dozens of them, chanting insults, waving signs, recording everything on their phones. Security tried to push them back, but their voices carried across the field like war drums.
"Lock him up!"
"Kingsdale forever!"
"Roosevelt breeds criminals!"
And then there were the others. The ones who didn't wear school colors at all. Men leaning on cars just beyond the lot. Hooded, silent, watching. No banners. No phones. Just eyes that followed every student walking past the gates.
Teachers pretended not to notice. But I did. And deep down, so did everyone else.
---
Inside, the hallways were boiling. Some kids mocked the cameras, doing their best Derrick impressions. Others muttered about transfer requests. The principal called emergency assemblies, but his speeches about "safety and order" rang hollow. How could there be order when the whole world seemed to be watching us like a zoo?
And still—no Derrick.
He hadn't come back. Not once since the police took him. But his name was louder than ever, painted across lockers in Sharpie, shouted in chants, dragged through every conversation.
That night, another rumor broke free.
This one wasn't about the fight. Or the school.
It was about the men at the fence.
"They're not random," one message read. "They're connected. To his dad."
I stared at the screen, my pulse quickening. Because if that was true, then Roosevelt High wasn't just caught in a storm anymore. We were sitting on the edge of something much bigger—something that belonged to the streets, not the classroom.
And once the streets came knocking, no school walls could keep them out.
---