Chapter 7: Broken Loyalties

By lunchtime, everyone had seen the film.

Ryan had edited it cleverly, cutting out parts that made him look bad and saving only the juiciest moments: Jamie defying his father, the football teacher looking worried, and Jamie holding Elliot's hand as they walked out.

The caption read: "Carter picks art freak over football future. Team captain or team traitor?"

Elliot and Jamie sat at their normal lunch table, aware of the stares and whispers swirling around them like an angry storm. Megan joined them, moving her tray next to Elliot's.

"Everyone's talking about it," she said, her voice low. "Ryan's really gone too far this time."

"Let them talk," Jamie said, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. He kept glancing toward the football team's table, where his friends huddled together, occasionally shooting dark looks in their direction.

Elliot noticed the tight set of Jamie's shoulders, the way his food stayed untouched. "Are you okay?" they asked softly.

"Fine," Jamie responded too quickly. "Just not hungry."

At that time, Coach Anderson walked into the cafeteria. The room hushed as he made his way straight to the football team's table. He spoke to them in a low, serious voice, his back to the rest of the diner. Ryan's face darkened as the boss talked.

When Coach finished, he turned and walked toward Jamie's table.

"Carter," he said gruffly. "Practice at 3:30. Don't be late."

"Yes, Coach," Jamie answered.

The coach nodded at Elliot and Megan, then left. As soon as he was gone, the cafeteria exploded in fresh whispers.

"What was that about?" Megan asked.

Jamie shrugged, but his eyes followed Coach's retreating figure with a worried look.

The bell rang, saving them from further conversation. As they grabbed their things, Elliot felt a chill run down their spine. Ryan was looking at them from across the room, his eyes cold with hate.

"See you after class?" Jamie asked, touching Elliot's arm lightly.

Elliot nodded, trying to smile. "Good luck at practice."

The afternoon lessons dragged by. In art class, Elliot tried to lose themselves in their latest project—a landscape inspired by Jamie's mountain photo—but their mind kept drifting to Jamie and what might be happening at football practice.

When the final bell rang, Elliot found themselves going toward the football field instead of home. They climbed the stairs and sat in their usual spot, pulling out their sketchbook more as a shield than anything else.

The team ran onto the field. Elliot quickly spotted Jamie in his number 12 jersey. Usually, the team warmed up together, laughing and shoving each other jokingly. Today was different. Several players kept their distance from Jamie, forming a separate group lead by Ryan.

Coach blew his whistle and called for passing practice. Jamie, as quarterback, took his place. He called out plays, his voice strong despite the stress. When he threw the ball to Tyler Adams, one of his regular receivers, Tyler deliberately slowed his run. The ball whizzed past him, missing his outstretched fingers by inches.

"Too fast, Carter!" Ryan called out mockingly. "Not all of us are trying to impress the scouts today!"

Several people laughed. Coach Anderson shot them a warning look and blew his whistle again.

"Run it again," he ordered. "And Adams, if I see you dog it one more time, you're doing laps until sunset."

The next throw hit, but Elliot could see the damage was done. Jamie's face was carefully blank, his actions mechanical. When Ryan's turn came to receive, he ran a beautiful route but then let the ball hit his chest and fall to the ground instead of catching it.

"Oops," Ryan said with a smile. "Guess I'm distracted today too."

Coach exploded. "Mitchell! Twenty laps! NOW!"

Ryan jogged off with a pleased smile, as if the punishment was worth it. The rest of practice continued in tense silence. Jamie threw beautiful passes. Some players caught them. Others found reasons to miss.

Elliot's heart ached watching it all. This was their fault. Jamie was being punished because he'd stood up for them.

After practice finished, Elliot waited for Jamie outside the locker room. Most of the team filed out in twos and threes, some giving Elliot dirty looks, others just hurrying past with eyes averted.

Ryan emerged with three other players, all laughing at something on his phone. When he spotted Elliot, his laughter cut off.

"Well, look who it is," he sneered. "Waiting for your boyfriend?"

Elliot's face burned, but they stood their ground. "What's your problem, Ryan?"

"My problem?" Ryan stepped closer, causing Elliot to back against the wall. "My problem is watching a championship team fall apart because our captain is too busy playing hero to some nobody."

"Jamie's twice the player you'll ever be," Elliot said, surprised by their own confidence.

Ryan's face twisted with anger. "You think you know anything about football? About this team? Carter was going to State with a full scholarship before you came along."

"That's enough, Ryan."

Coach Anderson's words cut through the tension. He stood in the opening of the locker room, arms crossed over his chest.

"The rest of you, go home," he told the other players. "Mitchell, my room. Now."

Ryan shot Elliot one last angry look before following Coach. The other players fled quickly, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

A minute later, Jamie came from the locker room, his hair still damp from the shower. His face lit up when he saw Elliot, but faded just as quickly.

"You saw practice," he said. It wasn't a question.

Elliot nodded. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"But they're treating you like this because of me."

Jamie shook his head. "They're treating me like this because they're following Ryan instead of thinking for themselves." He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed. "It shouldn't matter who I'm friends with. It doesn't change how I play."

"Friends," Elliot repeated softly, feeling both pleased and disappointed by the word.

Jamie looked at them curiously. "What would you call it?"

Before Elliot could answer, Jamie's phone buzzed. He checked it and frowned.

"My dad," he explained. "He wants me home for dinner. Probably to continue our 'talk' from this morning."

"Will you be okay?" Elliot asked.

Jamie shrugged. "He'll cool down eventually. He always does."

They walked to Jamie's car in quiet. The parking lot was mostly empty now, the afternoon sun creating long shadows across the pavement.

"Do you need a ride?" Jamie asked.

Elliot shook their head. "I think I'll walk today. Clear my head."

Jamie nodded, understanding. "I'll text you later?"

"I'd like that."

As Elliot watched Jamie drive away, a hollow feeling settled in their chest. All their life, they'd tried to stay invisible, to avoid making trouble. Now trouble seemed to follow them everywhere—and worse, it was affecting Jamie too.

On the walk home, Elliot tried to imagine what Jamie's dinner with his father would be like. Would Mr. Carter yell? Make threats? Try to stop Jamie from seeing them? The thought made Elliot's stomach twist.

Their phone vibrated with a text from Megan: "You ok? Heard about practice. Those jerks!"

Before Elliot could reply, another text came through—this one from an unknown number: "Stay away from Carter if you know what's good for both of you."

Elliot's blood ran cold. They quickly blocked the number and raised their pace, suddenly aware of how quiet and empty the street was.

At home, they found Mom in the kitchen making dinner, her face tight with worry.

"The school called," she said without introduction. "Principal Wells told me everything. About Ryan, the movie, all of it. Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?"

"I didn't want you to worry," Elliot mumbled.

"That's my job," Mom said, pulling them into a hug. "To worry about you."

Over dinner, Elliot picked at their food, their mind still on Jamie and the frightening text. Mom watched with worried eyes.

"You really care about him, don't you?" she asked kindly.

Elliot nodded, throat tight.

"Then don't let bullies like Ryan Mitchell scare you away from something good," she said strongly. "That's what they want."

After dinner, Elliot waited for Jamie's text, but none came. They tried to focus on chores, but kept checking their phone every few minutes.

Finally, at 9:37 PM, their phone lit up with Jamie's name.

"Can't talk. Grounded. Phone seized after dinner. Using dad's laptop sneakily. He's trying to move me to Westridge Academy. Private school across town. Says it's 'for my future. ' Don't know what to do."

Elliot looked at the message in horror. Westridge Academy was an expensive boarding school twenty miles away, known for its athletics program that fed straight into Division I colleges. If Jamie moved there, Elliot might never see him again.

Before they could reply, a second message appeared: "Dad coming. Have to go. Tomorrow we'll figure this out. Promise."

The screen went dark. Elliot sat frozen on their bed, the phone clutched in their shaking hands. Transfer schools? This was worse than they'd imagined.

Their phone buzzed again. Hoping it was Jamie, they checked quickly—only to feel their blood turn to ice.

It was a picture message from another unknown number. The picture showed their own house, clearly taken from across the street. In red text across the picture were the words: "This isn't over."

As if on cue, a car engine started loudly outside their window.

Elliot rushed to look out, just in time to see Ryan's black car racing away into the darkness.