The Bullied Prodigy

CHAPTER SEVEN

The rain had stopped by the time I reached Crestwood’s front courtyard, but the damage had already been done.

Students were gathered in clusters, whispering, filming, laughing—phones pointed like weapons at the center of it all. In the middle, my grandmother stood, her coat soaked, curls frizzed from the drizzle, her back ramrod straight as she faced down Jordan and two of his usual shadows.

Jordan was smiling like he was on stage. “Come on, old lady. Just say it. Kneel and beg, and maybe I’ll forgive your little grandson’s temper tantrum.”

The crowd chuckled.

“Show some humility,” one of his cronies added.

My blood boiled.

I shoved past a pair of junior girls, storming into the circle like a bull.

“Grandma!” I shouted, voice cracking with urgency. “Get up! You don’t have to talk to them.” I said in anger shoving my way through the clustering crowd that were hovering over my grandmother who was on her knees.

She turned toward me, her expression equal parts relief and fury. “Eli, no—”

But I was already moving.

Jordan’s grin widened. “Ah, here he is! The prince of poverty himself. Look, everyone, the prodigal peasant returns!”

A fresh round of laughter rippled around us.

“You okay?” I whispered to my grandma, not taking my eyes off Jordan.

“I handled worse boys in church basements,” she muttered, eyes glinting. “But he disrespected the wrong woman today.”

That was all the confirmation I needed.

I turned to face Jordan.

“Say one more word,” I warned, voice low, fists clenched.

Jordan stepped forward, arms wide like he was welcoming an old friend. “One more word? Sure—scholarship. As in, the thing you just lost.”

Then he smirked and added, “But let’s be honest. Did you really think someone like you belonged here?”

I moved before I thought.

My fist connected with his face in a solid crack that echoed across the courtyard.

Gasps. Screams. Phones dropped and rewound in live video. The crowd surged.

Jordan stumbled backward, holding his cheek, eyes wide in disbelief. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“You—freaking—loser!” he roared, lunging toward me.

We went down in a tangle of fists and curses. His friends tried to grab me. I shoved one aside. A knee hit my side. I didn’t stop. All I saw was red and the smug face that had humiliated my grandmother.

“Enough!” a voice thundered above us.

Strong arms yanked us apart. Dean Collings stepped between us, face like thunder. Faculty members had arrived, pushing through the crowd, ordering students to disperse.

“Turner!” Mr. Collings barked, glaring at me. “To my office. Now!”

I glanced back at my grandmother. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyes burning with unspoken pride. I didn’t regret a thing.

The office smelled like furniture polish and old books. I sat across from Dean Collings, my knuckles bruised and still stinging.

Jordan sat beside me, a tissue pressed to his swollen lip, glaring like I’d kicked his puppy.

“Mr. Turner,” Collings began, folding his hands. “Your behavior today was unacceptable. You assaulted a fellow student—again—and disrupted school proceedings. I thought you have learnt your lesson when I handed you that suspension letter!" he barked at me.

I didn’t answer.

“I’ve spoken to the board,” he continued. “Given your prior warnings and today’s incident, we have no choice. Your scholarship has been revoked. And you will be expelled from Crestwood effective immediately.”

Silence.

Jordan smirked behind his tissue.

I leaned forward slowly, fixing my eyes on the dean.

“How much?” I asked.

Collings blinked. “What?”

“How much is tuition here? Per term?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why does that matter? You can’t afford—”

“Try me.”

He glanced at Jordan, then back at me. “Crestwood charges one hundred thousand dollars per term.”

I nodded, pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket, and unlocked it with a shaky thumb. The banking app was still open.

I looked at the money in my bank app and saw I was only having just $50,000.

I needed more.

Collings inhaled sharply.

Jordan sat up straight, eyes darting between me and the number like it was fake.

I leaned back, savoring the shift in the room. “That’s just one of my accounts. Would you prefer I paid upfront? Or monthly?”

“You’re bluffing,” Jordan whispered, but the panic in his voice betrayed him.

I looked at him. “You think I wouldn’t pay to ruin you properly?”

“Mr. Turner,” Collings said slowly, “what is the source of these funds?”

"'Are you going to ask me questions or do you need me to pay my tuition fees? After all, my scholarship has been revoked."

" Well, you are right. I don't see any reason why I need to ask Yiu where you get the money from. That is your business and not mine." Dean Collings said adjusting his spectacles.

" Since we have agreed that I will be paying why don't I get out now and get my grandmother off the floor." I said lashing in anger.

" I see what you are doing. You don't have the money and you are only stalling for more time." Jordan jested.

" That is enough, Mr Jordan. Mr Eli here has said he is ready I pay for his tuition. That should earn him. the same respect they you have withing this walls." Dean Collings said shunning Jordan.

" You are free to do whatever you please. But you should know that once you step out of this walls without paying the tuition fees then you are no longer a student of Crestwood. Do you hear me Mr Eli?"

I nodded and said nothing. One thing was certain. I knew I was not going to be able to pay the bills but I was going to make sure I beat Jordan to a pulp right after I got up grandmother up to her feet.

" Everything is okay now, Grandmother. I am going to pay my tuition f*e " I said with a smile.

" And where is he going to get the money?"

" Rob a bank?"

I could hear their jest but I was not moved.

" So let's see you pay your fees!" Jordan shouted with his cronies handing around.

I grabbed my phone as it threatened to break under my hand. " We are waiting, Eli Turner." Dean Collings said walking into everyone midst.

But then I looked at my phone app again. My heart beating fast and sweat dripping from the corner of my head.

I looked at the zeros, counted the numbers and looked up again.

" Is something wrong? Are you lost?" Jordan said and the whole school burst into another round of laughter.