The Bullied Prodigy

CHAPTER FIVE

It went through.

No error. No decline.

Just a beep.

“Approved,” she mumbled, stunned.

People started cheering. Some clapped me on the back. Even Jordan looked confused from across the room.

I didn’t say a word.

I just walked away.

That night, I got another message.

> [Well done, Mr. Turner. You’ve shown initiative. Your next task arrives tomorrow.]

I stared at the screen with disbelief.

Who am I?

The euphoria of the cafeteria victory faded faster than I expected.

By the next morning, I was nobody again.

The whispers returned, laced with bitterness instead of awe.

“Bet it was a one-time thing.”

“Probably stole it.”

“Didn’t you hear? That was his grandma’s pension money.”

I tried to ignore them, but it was like walking through a swarm of flies. Persistent. Annoying. Biting.

And, of course, Jordan was waiting.

He caught up with me outside the locker room after gym, where I’d stayed behind to change. Everyone else was gone, and I was just tightening the straps of my old backpack when the door creaked open again.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Well, well, look who suddenly thinks he’s the prince of Crestwood.”

I kept my back to him. “Not in the mood, Jordan.”

He laughed. “You think flashing some card around and paying for a few lunches makes you important? Please. Half the school thinks you stole from your sick grandmother.”

I stiffened.

“You didn’t, right?” he added, stepping closer. “Or did you finally pawn her wedding ring while she was asleep? Real heartwarming stuff.”

That did it.

I turned around and shoved him. “Shut your mouth.”

He stumbled back a step—not from the force of the shove, but from surprise.

His grin vanished.

“Did you just touch me?”

“You don’t get to talk about her. Ever.”

He chuckled again, but this one was colder. “You want to play hero now? Is that it? You want to pretend you're better than the trash you’ve always been?”

I clenched my fists. “Try me.”

And that was all the invitation he needed.

His fist came fast—faster than I expected for a guy who coasted through life on charm and inherited muscle. I dodged the first swing, but the second caught me in the gut, folding me in half.

I gasped, stumbling backward into a row of lockers.

He didn't stop.

Another punch, this time to the side of my face. My vision flashed white. I dropped to my knees, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

“You're pathetic,” Jordan hissed, grabbing the front of my shirt and yanking me upright just to slam me against the cold steel.

“And this—this little ‘rise from the ashes’ act? Everyone knows you’re a joke. You’ll always be a joke.”

He let go, letting me collapse like a rag doll. I heard him spit before walking out, boots echoing.

The janitor found me five minutes later. I laid on the floor gasping.

My eye was swelling shut. My ribs ached. I had a cut on my lip that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

" Eli turner?" He looked at me

" Yes, you are talking to him." I said slowly rising to my feet.

" You are being summoned at the Dean's office. Can you walk?"

" What? What is this about?" I looked at the janitor who was as clueless as I was.

I winced as I make my way towards the Dean's office with just one thought.

Why was I summoned?

When I got called to the dean’s office, it wasn’t Jordan sitting in the chair next to me.

It was just me.

The dean, Mr. Collings, peered at me over his glasses with forced sympathy. “Eli, several students witnessed you confronting Jordan with physical aggression. I’m afraid we have a strict no-violence policy here.”

My jaw dropped. "What was going on here? What do you mean several students saw me?"

I stammered a bit. " I am sorry but I think you must have heard wrong Mr Collings.. Jordan here is a bully.bHe attacked me first!"

I stared at him, incredulous. “He beat me. I was defending myself.”

Mr. Collings sighed. “You pushed him first. He claims it was unprovoked. And you know Jordan—he’s never had an issue before. You should know how you behave around the richer kids Eli. You are just a nobody here and you are also benefiting from Jordan's father hard earned money. You owe him an apology." Mr Collings said looking at me.

That was a lie and we both knew it, but Jordan’s father sat on the school board. I was just a charity case.

" If you are not going to apologise to him then I might have to hand you a suspension letter." The Dean said looking at me..

“You’re suspending me because I refuse to apologise when he is wrong and I am right?” I asked, voice cracking.

“For two weeks,” he said. “Take this time to reflect. Violence isn’t the solution.”

I left the office feeling like I’d been punched all over again.

Suspension meant missed work, missed classes, and worse—two weeks of sitting at home, looking my grandmother in the eye and pretending everything was fine.

It was raining when I stepped outside.

Fitting.

I pulled my hoodie up and walked across the lot, each step heavier than the last. I wanted to scream, to break something, to cry. But all I did was keep walking, the weight of the world settling back on my shoulders like it had never left.

And then I saw it.

A sleek black car.

Parked at the curb like it had been waiting for me.

It didn’t belong. Not in this part of town. The windows were tinted black, the finish polished to a mirror shine. Even in the rain, it gleamed like something out of a spy movie.

The engine was running.

I slowed, heart hammering again for the second time in twenty-four hours. I looked back trying to see who was right behind me.

As I approached, the back door clicked open.

Not a word.

No signal.

Just… open.

Inviting me in.