Author POV
Day 3, the school had stopped pretending this was just a festival.
This was war with scoreboards and cheerleaders and way too many people who suddenly thought they were professional athletes just because they could catch a ball without falling on their faces.
Balls bounced against the floor in uneven rhythms. Voices overlapped into a wall of noise that should have been overwhelming but somehow just felt like background music.
Banners hung from the walls like battle flags. Sections had marked their territory with signs and chants and students who looked ready to fight someone over a point system that nobody fully understood.
Ruz stood near the court, watching the setup for the girls' match. Section A and D versus Section C and Z. Which meant me vs the Velvet Girls and whoever else they had dragged onto their team to make numbers.
I rolled my shoulders once, loosening tension I did not show on my face. My muscles were tight from yesterday not from the game, but from carrying Liam's emotional baggage across the finish line.
Beside me, Nika from section Z stretched her arms over her head, then glanced at me with a half smile that suggested she knew something I did not.
"So," Nika said casually, "we are against the Velvet Girls."
I did not look at her. My eyes were on the other side of the court, where Selene was arranging her hair like she was about to be photographed instead of playing a sport.
"I noticed," I said.
Nika let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from amusement rather than humor. "You always notice everything. ULike being watched by a cat who is deciding whether to knock something off a shelf."
"That is an accurate description," I said.
"I meant it as a compliment."
"I took it as one."
A pause. She lowered her voice slightly, the playfulness fading into something more serious.
"I do not like them," she said.
I finally turned my head to look at her.
"That is mutual," I replied. "We share that opinion. It is one of the few things we have in common."
She nodded, satisfied. "Good. Because they do not play fair. They never have. Last year, someone from their team deliberately tripped our best player and then acted like it was an accident. The year before that, they somehow switched scoreboards when the referee was not looking."
My expression did not change. "Neither do I."
That earned me a small grin, the kind that said she had just decided something important about me.
"I knew I would like you," she said.
I raised one eyebrow slightly. "You decided that already? Before knowing anything about me?"
"I decide fast," she said. "It is a gift. Also a curse. I have made many terrible decisions based on fast judgment."
"That sounds risky," I said.
"It sounds fun," she said.
Before I could respond, a whistle blew across the court. The match was about to begin.
The teams lined up.
Selene and Bianca stood at the front for Section A and D perfect posture, calm expressions, eyes already measuring the court like they owned it and everyone else was just borrowing space. Their uniforms were immaculate, their hair was perfect, and they looked like they had stepped out of a magazine spread about how to be intimidating while wearing gym clothes.
On the other side stood me, Nika, and the rest of Section C and Z. Our uniforms were less perfect. Our hair was less perfect. Our attitudes were significantly less perfect, which made them better.
The ball was thrown into the air.
Game on.
The first few minutes were fast. Almost too fast. Shoes squeaked against the polished floor in sharp, angry sounds. Passes snapped through the air like warnings. Bodies blurred into motion, and the crowd roared for reasons I could not understand because nothing interesting had happened yet.
Nika intercepted the first pass cleanly, her hand appearing out of nowhere to steal the ball from someone who had clearly not seen her coming.
"Left!" she called, her voice cutting through the noise.
I was already there.
No hesitation. No second guessing. Just movement.
The ball reached my hands. I pivoted, dodged one defender who lunged too early, then passed instead of shooting. Clean. Efficient. Unexpected.
The crowd reacted immediately.
"Nice pass....!"
"Wait, she did not shoot....?"
"Who is that?"
I did not react to any of it. I was not here to impress anyone. I was not here to make friends or gain followers or become a school legend. I was here to win.
Across the court, Selene noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes followed me like a hawk tracking prey.
"She does not play for attention," Selene said quietly to Bianca, though I was close enough to hear because I made it my business to hear things people did not want me to hear.
Bianca's eyes narrowed. "That is worse. That is so much worse. People who do not care about attention are unpredictable."
The tone of the game changed around the halfway point.
Subtle at first. The kind of changes that looked accidental if you were not paying attention. A shoulder that stayed too long after a pass. A step that blocked just enough to slow someone down. A push during a jump that looked like contact but felt like something else.
Bianca moved closer to me during a break in play, her shoulder brushing against mine like it was an accident.
"You are trying too hard," she said under her breath, her voice sweet and poisonous at the same time.
I did not even look at her. My eyes were on the court, on the ball, on the next play.
"I am not trying at all," I said. "That is the difference between us. You are trying very hard. I am simply existing, and apparently that is enough."
That annoyed her. I could feel it in the way her breathing changed, the way her jaw tightened.
Good.
Next play, Danica attempted to cut me off. She moved too fast, too aggressive, her body angling into my space like she was trying to intimidate me into backing down.
I adjusted instantly. Stepped around her without contact, without effort, without acknowledging that she had even been there.
"You are predictable," I said calmly as I passed her.
Danica clenched her jaw so hard I heard her teeth grind.
"Say that again," she said.
I did not.
I had already moved past her. Repeating myself was inefficient.
The game accelerated as the minutes ticked down.
Nika and I fell into a rhythm without needing to speak. It was strange, I had known her for two days, but our movements matched like we had been playing together for years.
Pass. Move. Cut. Score.
At one point, during a brief pause while the referee sorted something out, Nika laughed.
"This is fun," she said, slightly out of breath but genuinely happy.
I caught the ball as the game resumed, dodged Bianca's attempted steal, and replied without missing a step.
"It is," I said.
That alone said more than a long speech would have. We were not pressured. We were not intimidated. We were not worried about losing or making mistakes or looking bad in front of the crowd.
We were enjoying it.
And that made us dangerous.
Score tied.
The ball landed in my hands.
Selene moved to block me. Her defense was perfect feet planted, arms positioned, body angled to cut off my options. Her timing was excellent.
For anyone else, that defense would have worked.
For anyone else, she would have been unstoppable.
I stepped forward like I was going to shoot. Selene committed to the block.
Then I passed the ball behind my back.
Nika caught it instantly. No hesitation. No adjustment needed. The ball went from my hands to hers like it had been delivered by magic.
She shot.
The ball arced through the air, spinning slowly, beautifully, like it was taking its time just to make everyone wait.
It went through the hoop.
Whistle.
Game over.
Section C and Z - won.
The gym exploded. Cheers, shouts, noise everywhere, people screaming like we had just won a championship instead of a single game in a week long festival.
Nika threw her hands up in the air like she was celebrating something.
"Yes!" she shouted.
I just exhaled once.
Calm on the outside. But my eyes were sharper now. Focused.
They approached after the crowd started to settle.
No smiles this time. No pleasant expressions. Just sharp eyes and tighter jaws and the kind of silence that meant they were angry but too proud to show it.
Selene stopped in front of me. Close enough to be uncomfortable for someone who cared about personal space. I did not.
"You are improving," she said.
I nodded slightly. "You are not."
Bianca scoffed, crossing her arms. "Still arrogant. That will not last. Arrogance has a way of punishing people who wear it like armor."
I met her gaze without blinking.
"Still talking," I said. "That will not change either."
A pause hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
Then Selene leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping so only I could hear.
"You won today," she said.
I did not respond.
"But this is not over."
I tilted my head slightly, as if considering her words.
"I know," I said.
That was not the answer she expected.
She had expected me to argue, to defend, to explain why I deserved to win. She had expected me to react.
I did not react.
And that made it worse for her than any insult I could have thrown.
Author POV
BOYS' MATCH
The energy shifted immediately after the girls' match ended.
Louder. More aggressive. More chaotic. The boys took the court like they were inheriting a battlefield, and the crowd responded with the kind of enthusiasm that came from people who had been saving their voices for the main event.
Boys' match: Section A and D vs Section C and Z.
On one side, Diego and Enzo. Strong. Fast. Loud. The kind of players who announced themselves with every move they made, who wanted everyone to know exactly how good they were.
On the other side, Liam already stressed, already sweating, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. Bayani from Section C, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Zayn, who looked like he did not care about anything. And Eren, who looked like he was just happy to be included.
Ruz stood near the sidelines now, arms crossed, watching. Nika was beside her, also watching, also judging.
Bayani jogged past Ruz briefly on his way to the court.
"Try not to judge me if I miss," he said, half joking.
Ruz replied calmly, "I already am. I started judging the moment I saw your shoes."
He laughed. "Fair."
The Game Started. But Something Was Off
The ball was thrown. Players moved. Points were scored.
But something was wrong.
Zayn was not fully engaged. His movements were there, technically correct, physically capable but his energy was somewhere else. His eyes kept drifting toward the sidelines, toward the crowd, toward something that was not on the court.
Enzo was not pushing as hard as expected. He was holding back, pulling his punches, playing at half speed.
Even Diego looked distracted, his usual intensity replaced by something more thoughtful.
Liam noticed first. He was not the most observant person in the world, he had once walked into a glass door and blamed the door but even he could feel that something was off.
"Why does this feel weird?" he muttered as he passed the ball.
Because it was weird. Because the game was not the game anymore. Something else was happening beneath the surface.
Before the Match -
Earlier, before the boys' match started, a group of visiting students from another school had been talking near the back of the gym. Loud enough to be heard. Loud enough to be noticed. Loud enough to be a problem.
They had been talking about Monterrazas. About the teams. About the players.
About the girls.
"…they think they are good?" one of them had said, laughing. "Especially those girls. And her. What is her name? The one with the attitude."
"Not even worth watching," another had added."Forget the score. Did you see her walk. Number twelve."
"That one in the black shorts. Every time she jumps... yeah."
"I'd give her a different kind of trophy."
"Number eight. Those hips don't lie, man."
"They should play in less clothing. Then I'd watch."
"That ponytail one? She knows we were looking. She's played for us ."
"Forget the whistle. I'd blow something else for her."
Enzo heard.
Diego heard.
And unfortunately, Liam heard too.
Which made everything worse, because Liam had no filter and even less self control.
During a break in the game, Liam passed the ball to Enzo.
"Tell me I am not the only one who heard that," Liam said, his voice low and tight.
"You are not," Enzo replied, his jaw set.
Diego cut in, his voice flat. "We finish this fast. Then we deal with them."
Zayn spoke quietly so quietly that only the people closest to him could hear.
"No."
They all looked at him.
Zayn's gaze did not leave the court. His expression was calm, but there was something underneath it that was not calm at all.
"We do not finish fast," he said. "We finish slow. We make it look like a game. We make it look like we are trying."
A pause.
Eren understood first. His eyes widened slightly.
"…Draw?" he asked.
Zayn nodded slightly. Once. That was all.
Liam blinked, processing.
"…Oh," he said.
Then slowly, a grin spread across his face. The kind of grin that meant he had just understood something delicious.
"Oh."
The Match Continued
The game went on.
Fast. Impressive. Technically perfect.
But every time one team pulled ahead, the other caught up. Every time someone looked like they were about to win, something happened to balance the score.
Perfect balance.
Suspiciously perfect balance.
Ruz noticed, of course.her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…They are doing this on purpose," Ruz murmured to Nika.
Nika glanced at the court, then back at her, then at the court again.
"…Oh," she said. "Oh, I see. That is… that is actually clever."
"It is also obvious," I said. "But only to people who are paying attention. Most people are not paying attention."
Last Shot
The final play of the game.
Ball in the air. Players moving. Crowd screaming.
Shot went in.
Whistle blew.
Tie.
Draw.
The crowd reacted with confusion and excitement and uncertainty all mixed together.
"Wait, it is a draw?"
"No winner?"
"What happened?"
"Did someone mess up the score?"
Liam dropped dramatically to the floor, clutching his chest like he had just survived a heart attack.
"I survived again," he announced to no one in particular.
No one believed him.
After the Match
As the crowd dispersed, the boys did not celebrate. Did not argue. Did not linger on the court.
They moved.
Quietly. Together. With purpose.
Zayn led the way, his steps unhurried but deliberate. Enzo followed. Diego followed. Eren followed. Even Liam stopped being dramatic long enough to join them.
They were going somewhere.
Ruz watched them go. Zayn did not look back but he knew she was watching.
He knew she noticed.
And he was not worried about it.
Nika stepped beside Ruz , her arms crossed, her expression thoughtful.
"…That was not just a game," she said.
My gaze stayed on the exit where the boys had disappeared.
"No," Ruz said. "It was not."
A pause.
"Something else just started," she added.
Across the gym, Selene was watching too. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp.
"…Interesting," she murmured.
Outside -
The visitor boys loitering near the edge of the school grounds, just far enough from the gym to pretend they had not been watching the entire match. Just close enough to still be a problem.
There were five of them. Maybe six. Numbers did not matter when the people attached to them were not worth remembering. They leaned against the wall near the back gate, cigarettes hanging from their lips, laughter spilling out of their mouths like they owned the street and everyone on it.
They had been talking for a while now.
Loud enough to be heard.
Careless enough to be noticed.
Arrogant enough to think no one would do anything about it.
The visiting students did not hear them coming.
That was the first mistake. When you run your mouth about people you do not know, in a place you do not belong, you should at least have the awareness to watch your surroundings.
These five did not.
The first sign of trouble was a hand.
It came out of nowhere fast, hard, and absolutely silent. It grabbed the tall one by the back of his collar and yanked him backward so quickly that his cigarette flew out of his mouth and landed on the ground in a shower of sparks.
"What the....."
He did not finish.
Zayn's fist connected with his stomach.
The tall one doubled over, air exploding out of his lungs in a wet gasp. His knees hit the pavement. His hands went to his stomach. His eyes went wide with shock and pain and the sudden, terrible realization that he had made a serious mistake.
Behind Zayn, the others emerged from the shadows.
Enzo. Diego. Eren. Liam.
They moved like they had done this before. Like they had practiced. Like this was not their first time, and they knew exactly what they were doing.
The lean one tried to run.
Diego caught him by the arm and twisted. Something cracked. Not bone probably not bone but something that made a sound that was not supposed to come from a human body.
"Where are you going?" Diego asked, his voice calm. Too calm. "You were just talking. You had so much to say. Stay. Finish the conversation."
The lean one opened his mouth to scream.
Enzo's hand covered it before any sound came out.
"Quiet," Enzo said softly. "We do not want anyone to hear. That would be rude. You are our guests. Guests should be polite."
It was not a fight.
Fights were fair. Fights had rules. Fights ended when someone gave up.
This was not a fight.
This was a lesson.
Zayn moved first. His pipe was old scratched, dented, the kind of thing you found in a garage and kept for no reason until suddenly you had a reason. He swung it once, and the tall one's knee buckled sideways.
The sound was wet. Crunching. The kind of sound that made Liam's stomach turn even though he kept swinging.
"Talk about her again," Zayn said, his voice flat. "Go ahead. I want you to. Say one more word."
The tall one could not speak. He was too busy trying to breathe through the pain.
The raspy one tried to fight back. He was bigger than the others, meaner, the kind of person who had probably started more fights than he had finished. He swung at Enzo with a closed fist.
Enzo ducked. Picked up a hockey stick from somewhere Liam had brought it, because Liam was strange and carried strange things and tonight that strangeness was useful.
The hockey stick connected with the raspy one's ribs.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The third swing broke something. They all heard it.
The raspy one went down.
Diego had the lean one pinned against the wall now, his forearm pressed against the other boy's throat. The lean one's feet dangled slightly off the ground, his shoes scraping against the brick, his face turning red.
"You wanted to give her a trophy," Diego said, his voice soft and terrible. "Which trophy? What kind? Tell me. I am curious."
The lean one could not answer. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Diego smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
"That is what I thought," he said.
Somewhere in the middle of it, the fear stopped and the enjoyment started.
Not enjoyment of the pain. Not that. But enjoyment of the reason.
Because these boys had talked about Ruz like she was something to be claimed. Like she was a prize. Like her body existed for their entertainment.
And that was not something any of them could let slide.
Liam hit the fourth one across the back with a metal pipe he had found near the dumpster. The sound was loud and satisfying, like a bell ringing.
"That one was for her ponytail," Liam said, breathing hard. "She likes her hair. She told me. She said it took years to grow. And you looked at it like it was yours."
The fourth one collapsed, clutching his spine.
"I did not.." he started.
"Shut up," Liam said, and hit him again.
Eren was the quietest of the group. He did not say much. He did not need to. He simply stood over the fifth boy the one who had said nothing, the one who had only laughed and stared down at him with empty eyes.
"You laughed," Eren said.
The fifth boy shook his head frantically. "I did not....I was not....."
"You laughed," Eren repeated. "When they talked about less clothing. When they talked about blowing something else. You laughed."
The fifth boy started crying.
Eren watched him for a long moment.
Then he turned and walked away.
He did not hit him.
He did not need to.
The crying was worse.
When it was over, the five visiting students lay on the ground in various states of broken.
One of them was unconscious. Two of them were curled into balls, protecting their ribs. One was crying so hard he could not speak. The tall one was trying to crawl away, his leg dragging behind him at an angle that was not natural.
Zayn stood over them, breathing steadily. His pipe was slick with something dark. He wiped it on the tall one's shirt.
"If you ever come back here," Zayn said, "if you ever look at this school again, if you ever say any of their names,"
He paused.
"We will find you."
The tall one whimpered.
"This was polite," Zayn continued. "This was us being nice. Next time, we will not be nice. Next time, we will not stop."
He turned and walked away.
The others followed.
None of them looked back.
They walked in silence for a while.
The adrenaline was fading now, leaving behind a strange emptiness. The kind that came after something intense, when the body realized what it had done and was still deciding how to feel about it.
Liam broke the silence first.
"That was fun," he said.
Enzo snorted. "You are disturbed."
"I know," Liam said. "But also. That was fun."
Diego cracked his knuckles. His hands were sore. He had not used a weapon he had used his fists, because Diego believed in the purity of hitting people with his own body.
"They deserved worse," he said quietly.
Eren shook his head. "No. They deserved exactly that."
Zayn did not say anything.
He was thinking about Ruz.
About what they would say if they knew.
About whether they would be proud or horrified or something in between.
He decided not to tell her.
Some things were better left unsaid.
Ruz stood near the entrance of the gym, waiting for the boys to return.
They had been gone for a while. Longer than expected. She was not worried she did not worry about people who could take care of themselves but she was curious.
Nika stood beside her, scrolling through her phone.
"Where did they go?" Nika asked.
Ruz shrugged. "Somewhere."
"Should we look for them?"
"No."
Nika glanced at her. "You are not curious?"
"I am always curious," Ruz said. "But I am also patient. They will come back when they are ready."
She did not ask where they had been.
She did not notice the small speck of blood on Liam's sleeve when he passed her.
She did not see the way Deigo's knuckles were red, hidden in his pockets.
She did not know.
And maybe that was better.
Ruz's POV
I watched the boys return from wherever they had gone.
They looked different. Not different like someone would notice different like something had shifted underneath their skin. They walked the same. Talked the same. Laughed at the same jokes.
But something was off.
Zayn passed me without meeting my eyes.
That was strange.
Zayn always met my eyes.
I did not ask where he had been. I did not ask why Deigo's hands were in his pockets. I did not ask about the small rip in Liam's shirt or the way Enzo was favoring his right arm or the quiet satisfaction that hung around them like cologne.
Some questions did not need answers.
Some answers were better left unknown.
"Good game," I said instead.
Zayn paused.
Then, almost too quiet to hear: "Yeah."
He kept walking.
I watched him go.
And I did not ask.