The morning sun glares through the window, lighting up the classroom as Mr. Carter drones on about ancient civilizations. My notebook is open, but my pen hasn't moved in minutes. Instead, I watch Lucas from across the room, studying his every move.
He's too comfortable, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating smirk, as if he owns the world. His confidence isn't just arrogance—it's control. He's already starting to mold the school around him, gathering influence in subtle ways.
That stops today.
At lunch, I stick to my usual routine, sitting with Samantha at the corner table. Her head is buried in a book, and for a while, neither of us speaks.
"You're good at staying out of the drama, huh?" I ask casually.
She glances up, blinking. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, people like Lucas thrive on dragging others into their games. You seem immune to it."
Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks back at her book. "I just... don't think it's worth it. People like him? They don't care about anyone but themselves."
Her words carry more bite than I expected, and I file that away for later.
"Well," I say, leaning forward, "if you ever feel like stepping out of the background, let me know. People like him only win because we let them."
Her eyes flicker to mine, hesitant but curious. "And what are you going to do about it?"
I smile faintly. "Watch and see."
By the time the final bell rings, I have a plan. The first step is to chip away at Lucas's reputation, something small enough that he won't see it coming.
As students flood the hallways, I make my way to the gym. Inside, a group of boys, including Lucas, are gathered around a punching bag, taking turns showing off their strength.
"Ethan!" Lucas calls out when he sees me. "Didn't think you'd show your face here. You're not exactly the athletic type."
His cronies laugh, and I force a grin. "Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."
Lucas steps aside, gesturing to the bag. "Be my guest. Let's see what you've got."
The bag swings slightly, and I take a moment to adjust the gloves before landing a solid punch. It's nothing spectacular, but enough to silence the smirks around me.
"Not bad," Lucas says, his tone measured. "But here, let me show you how it's done."
He steps up to the bag, rolling his shoulders as the room falls silent. His first punch is loud and deliberate, the sound echoing through the gym. His second and third follow in quick succession, and the others cheer.
"Impressive," I say, stepping closer. "But I bet you can't keep that up for long."
Lucas raises an eyebrow, smirking. "You think you can outlast me?"
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. "I'm just saying it's easier to look strong than to actually be strong."
The room goes quiet, tension thick in the air. Lucas's smirk falters for a split second before returning, sharper now.
"Alright, tough guy. Let's see what you've got."
The challenge escalates quickly. We take turns at the bag, the pace picking up with each punch. Sweat drips down my brow, and my arms ache, but I push through. Lucas glances at me, his expression growing tighter with each round.
Finally, he steps back, shaking his head. "Alright, you win this one."
It's a small victory, but the shift in the room is immediate. His followers exchange glances, and for the first time, Lucas isn't the center of attention.
"I guess there's more to you than I thought," Lucas says, his tone forced.
"Thanks," I reply, my voice calm. "Maybe next time, I'll show you what else I've got."
As I leave the gym, Jordan catches up to me, a wide grin on his face.
"Man, that was awesome," he says, clapping me on the back. "I didn't think anyone could make Lucas back down."
"It's not about beating him," I say. "It's about showing people he's not invincible."
Jordan nods slowly, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression. "Yeah, I get that. You're shaking things up, huh?"
"Something like that," I reply.
Later that afternoon, I head to the library, where Samantha is waiting. She looks up as I approach, her expression guarded.
"You're making a lot of noise," she says quietly.
"Am I?"
She sighs, closing her book. "Lucas doesn't like being challenged. You're painting a target on your back."
"Let him come," I say, sitting down across from her. "I'm not afraid of him."
She studies me for a moment, then shakes her head. "You're either brave or stupid."
"Maybe both," I admit. "But you can't win without taking risks."
Her lips twitch, almost forming a smile. "Just don't drag me into it."
"No promises," I reply with a grin.
As I leave the library, I check my phone. A message from Jordan lights up the screen:
"Dude, you've got everyone talking. Lucas looked pissed after you left."
I smirk, slipping the phone back into my pocket.