2025-05-28 04:48:42The 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.
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CHAPTER NINE
I could barely sleep. I lket wondering who sent the money and his they knew that I needed it. I shove my phone that kept making a funny sound in my face.. Ever since I left the grand hall of Crestwood. It has been tons of messages and friend request. Most of the students wanted to know who I really am. Who my parents were? Amd most importantly why I had been hiding the fact that I was rich. But the truth was that, I wasn't. I was just some street rat whose blood was collected to be tested if I was the real deal. My mind flashed back as I remembered what he said. Was I the lost long kid afterall? Or did he just took pity on me and sent me the money? No one sends that amount of money except if only...I couldn't think strait. I looked at my phone and saw the student forum had been blowned up with losts of pictures and video about what happened that day. But why did Cindy bet on me? Did she know something that I didn't? Cindy was one of the richest kids in
CHAPTER EIGHT
" Do you think he has the money?" " Eli is always a loafer and will forever be. Do you even see his shoes?" [ Some of the kids laughed. ] " I bet he does not have the money to pay. He is only stalling. Trying to buy more time." " And what if he is not?" " Have you seen the guy? He can barely afford lunch. What does that tells you?" " I had Jordan's father just bought the most biggest house in the city. Did you get an invite for the house warming party?" A girl in a short skimpy dresss asked looking at her friend. " No." " Huh? That means you are of lower class. I should watch the kind of friends move with." She said laughing " Ten thousand grand on Eli that he is bluffing." Tracy Stewart said laughing. Most of the students all began to drop their money all betting against me. But then a girl came forwards. She was known to be on her own. She was like the queen in the school and many feared her for some unreasons I know nothing about. " One thousand g
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. “E
CHAPTER SIX
The car door remained open, silent as the rain peppered the pavement. I stared at the black leather interior, unsure if I was hallucinating. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe Jordan had punched me straight into a fever dream. But the car was real. And someone was waiting. I hesitated. I could still turn around, go home, lick my wounds, try to explain to my grandma why I’d been suspended and didn’t fight harder to stay in school. But my legs didn’t listen. They moved on their own. I slid into the backseat, soaked hoodie dripping onto the plush carpeted floor. The door closed automatically behind me with a soft hiss. Inside, the air smelled like expensive cologne and leather polish. The divider between the driver and the back was up, blacked out. But I wasn’t alone. A man sat across from me in the wide backseat, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everything I owned. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a hard face, graying temples, and
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
CHAPTER FOUR
My gaze was fixed on the screen. Just those two words: Yes / No. Simple. Plain. But they felt like a loaded gun pointed straight at me. My thumb hovered, shaking. Every logical part of my brain screamed Don't. This was insane. Creepy. Probably illegal. I should delete the message, block the number, call the bank, call the cops, do something normal. But then again, normal never got me anywhere. Not when normal meant watching my grandmother cough through the night because we couldn’t afford the good medicine. Not when normal meant skipping meals so she could eat. Not when normal meant walking to school with my shoes coming apart and pretending it didn’t bother me when Jordan and his gang laughed at me in front of everyone. $50,000 wasn’t normal. And maybe… neither was I. I took a shaky breath, the air thick in my throat. Then, I tapped Yes. Nothing happened. No confetti, no dramatic music. Just the message disappearing, like it had never been there. I stared at the
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