Chapter 11: The Punch

I stood there, frozen, with the word "You?" hanging in the air. Daniel who had just shooed away the bullies didn't even acknowledge me. He cast a single, indifferent glance in my direction before turning his back, as if I were nothing more than a stray breeze.

I stood there, completely confused, my mind racing. I turned to the student who had been cowering on the ground, still dusting off his uniform. "Does he not recognize me? I’m literally standing right here."

The boy looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. "That’s Daniel. He’s the top student here, and the most dangerous. Don't push your luck."

"Top student?" I muttered, shaking my head. I looked back at the boy I had just defended. "Come on, let's get out of here. You shouldn't be up here alone." I quickly packed my books, feeling Daniel's cold presence at my back, and hurried the other student toward the stairwell.

Back in the classroom, the mood had shifted. Just as I reached my desk, the group of bullies from the rooftop cornered me. One of them grabbed my collar, jerking me forward. "You think you’re special, new kid? Who gave you the right to walk into our territory? You’re in over your head."

I was about to retort when the classroom door swung open. A new teacher walked in, a sharp, stern woman with iron-gray hair. She didn't even drop her bag before she addressed the class. "If you have notes out, put them away. If you’re whispering, stop it. I don't tolerate distractions, and I will not be lenient if I catch anyone disrupting my lecture on Advanced Particle Physics. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Everyone scrambled to clear their desks. As she turned to the chalkboard to write the topic in bold, the door creaked open again. A student slipped in late, sliding into the empty seat right in front of me. I squinted; it was Daniel.

I leaned forward, my voice a barely audible whisper. "Daniel? Are you seriously acting like you don't remember my face? Is this all just a performance?"

He didn't move. He didn't behave as if I were talking to him. I was about to tap his shoulder when the teacher spun around, her eyes locking onto us with laser precision. "You two! Out! Now!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, I was just—" I started, hoping to avoid the humiliation.

"Out!" she snapped, her voice like a whip.

Daniel was already walking toward the door without a single protest. I had no choice but to follow. Once we were out in the hallway, I kept looking back through the door’s small window. The teacher had already returned to the board, explaining the complex formulas with effortless grace.

"She’s incredible," I whispered, more to myself than to Daniel, feeling a strange sense of familiarity wash over me. "She’s teaching the whole lesson without even glancing at her notes. I feel like I've seen her teach before."

Daniel didn't answer. He just kept walking toward the exit. I followed him, trying to figure out why he was acting like a ghost. When we finally cleared the building and stepped into the hallway, I moved to walk beside him.

"Why are you pretending?" I snapped, my patience finally wearing thin. "Do you really not remember me, or are you just playing some twisted game?"

Daniel didn't answer. He just kept walking, his jaw tight.

"You can't just act like we're strangers, Daniel!"

Out of pure, cold frustration, he spun around and delivered a heavy, solid punch to my cheek. My head snapped back, but I didn't fight. I just wiped the blood from my lip and looked at him.

The teacher must have heard the commotion, because she appeared at the door, her face a mask of fury. She marched over, prying us apart. "Fighting on school grounds? You’ve both earned a mandatory meeting with your parents tomorrow. And until this entire school is scrubbed from top to bottom, every classroom, every window, neither of you is going home.”

We were handed mops, rags, and buckets. Hours bled into each other as the sun set. By the time the sky turned black, we were exhausted, working in a heavy, suffocating silence.

I watched him wring out the mop and caught it immediately, that same flick of his wrist. Sharp. Restless. "I had seen that exact movement before. The certainty sat in my chest like something half remembered, close enough to touch but not close enough to name."

I stopped mopping. Stared at the back of his head for a long moment. "Still the same Daniel," I said quietly. "Carrying something that was never even real."

He didn't look up, his grip tightening on the mop handle until his knuckles turned white.

"I don't know what you think happened," I said softly, my voice echoing in the hollow, darkened corridor. "But you’ve got the wrong idea. Whatever you’re holding onto, it’s not how it went down."

That one line broke him. Daniel dropped the mop, the sound loud against the floor, then stepped forward and punched me straight in the jaw. I didn’t move. I just took it, nodded, and stood up straight.

“I guess I deserved this, if it makes you feel better.”

Daniel didn’t say anything. He picked up the mop and went back to cleaning, moving like he wasn’t even thinking.

I was about to dip the mop into the bucket again when a voice suddenly echoed through the empty hallway.

"Liam?"

I froze. I knew that voice. I turned slowly, my heart sinking, and saw someone standing at the end of the hallway. My breath caught, and my face went pale.

Beside me, Daniel straightened up. The tired look on his face disappeared, replaced with clear surprise when he realized who had just called my name.

I stared, my voice barely a whisper. "How are you here?"