Chapter 56 Fifty six
The hallways of the school were a riot of noise and motion on a Monday morning—lockers slamming, laughter echoing off the tiled floors, sneakers squeaking as kids rushed between classes. A crowd had already gathered near the main bulletin board outside the gym, where the fresh basketball team roster had been pinned up over the weekend. The list was simple: names, positions, and a bold header at the top—Highest Scorer & Team Captain.
The Terrible Four stood at the front of the pack, as usual. Ryan—broad-shouldered, red hair spiked, perpetual smirk—leaned in close to the paper, arms crossed, already talking like the spot was his birthright.
“Watch,” he said to his crew, voice loud enough to carry. “They finally gave it to someone with real skill. Me.”
Silas snorted, arms folded. “You averaged what, twelve points last season? Dream on.”
Nikos elbowed Jacob. “Bet it’s him. He’s been talking himself up all weekend.”
Ryan grinned wider. “Go ahead, check it. Say my name.”
Jacob leaned forward, scanned the list, then froze.
“Uh… it’s not you, man.”
Ryan’s smirk faltered. “What?”
Silas read it aloud, slow and mocking. “Highest Scorer & Team Captain: Koda Blackthorn.”
The hallway erupted—some cheers, some groans, a burst of laughter from the back. Ryan’s face flushed dark red.
“You’re kidding,” he muttered.
Jacob shrugged. “Says it right there. Koda.”
Ryan ripped the paper off the board, crumpling the corner in his fist. “Bullshit. He barely showed up to practice last year.”
More laughter.
Someone in the crowd yelled, “Maybe he’s been practicing in secret, Ryan!”
Ryan spun toward the voice, but the crowd was already shifting, attention pulling elsewhere.
Because the three of them had just walked in.
The One—still wearing Koda’s face, Koda’s body—strode through the double doors with Harper on his left and Kai on his right. The hallway noise dipped for a second, then surged again, eyes tracking them like magnets. Harper’s head was down, ponytail swinging, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets. Kai kept his gaze forward, jaw tight. The One walked like he owned the floor beneath him—dark red hair catching the fluorescent lights, black hoodie unzipped just enough to show the edge of a silver chain against his collarbone.
Harper peeled off first, heading toward Catherine, who waited near the lockers with her usual bright smile.
The One and Kai kept moving.
A cluster of girls immediately swarmed them—giggling, phones already out.
“Koda! Oh my god, your new hair—dark red? It’s so hot!”
They circled like birds, reaching to touch the ends of his hair, cooing over the color.
The One stopped walking.
He looked down at them—expression blank, eyes flat black.
“Not Koda,” he said. Voice calm. Final.
The girls blinked.
“The One?” one of them repeated, testing the name like candy on her tongue.
He nodded once.
A ripple of delighted whispers.
“Such a cool name!”
“Way cooler than Koda!”
They pressed closer, voices overlapping.
The One’s lip curled—just a fraction.
Then a new voice cut through the chatter—sharp, proprietary.
“Move it.”
Molly pushed through the crowd, Claudia and Amy flanking her like enforcers. Molly’s eyes were locked on The One, cheeks already flushed with the same old crush she’d never quite buried.
“Give him space, you losers,” she snapped, shoving one girl aside with her shoulder.
The swarm backed up reluctantly.
Molly stepped right up to him, chin lifted, trying for confidence.
“Hey,” she said, softer now. “You look… different.”
The One didn’t answer.
He just watched her.
Across the hall, Harper had reached Catherine.
Catherine looped an arm through hers, already talking fast.
“Girl, have you seen the roster? Koda’s captain and highest scorer. Everyone’s losing it. His girlfriend is so lucky to have such a hot boyfriend.”
Harper’s steps faltered.
She glanced back.
The One was surrounded again—this time by Molly and her crew—but his eyes were on her.
Harper looked away fast.
Catherine followed her gaze.
“Wait—hold up. You okay?”
Harper nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Fine.”
Catherine frowned, but didn’t push.
A new girl pushed through the crowd around The One—small, nervous, holding a pink box with a plastic window. Inside: a perfect strawberry cake, frosted with white icing and little red hearts.
She held it out with trembling hands.
“Koda—will you be my Val?” she asked, voice shaking.
The hallway quieted a fraction.
Harper’s head snapped up.
“Val?” she muttered.
Catherine leaned close. “Valentine’s Day is this week. Girls always try to get Koda to be their Valentine. It’s, like, tradition. He usually shuts them down hard.”
Harper watched.
Molly smirked, arms crossed, already anticipating the humiliation.
The girl extended the box higher.
“Please?”
The One looked down at the cake.
Then at the girl.
Then—slowly—across the hall to Harper.
She met his eyes.
Gave him the smallest shake of her head.
Don’t do anything stupid.
He sighed—long, theatrical.
The crowd waited.
He reached out.
Took the box.
Molly’s smirk widened.
The girl’s eyes went huge with hope.
The One turned the box in his hands.
“You know I don’t like strawberries,” he said, voice carrying. “I prefer blood cake.”
A nervous laugh rippled through the crowd—half shock, half thinking it was a joke.
He lifted the box toward Kai, who stood frozen beside him.
“Here, brother,” he said. “Have it on my behalf.”
He shoved the cake into Kai’s hands.
Kai caught it automatically.
The hallway exploded—cheers, whoops, a few claps.
For the first time in anyone’s memory, Koda Blackthorn hadn’t smashed the cake in a girl’s face.
He’d passed it on.
Molly’s mouth dropped open.
Claudia whispered, “What the hell?”
The girl blinked, stunned, then broke into a shy smile.
“Thanks… The One.”
He didn’t acknowledge her.
Just turned back to Harper.
She was still watching him.
Her expression was unreadable—relief, confusion, something warmer underneath.
“Koda!”
The crowd parted instantly, bodies shifting aside as if the name itself carried weight. Ryan and his crew—the Terrible Four—strode forward like they owned the corridor. Ryan at the front, red hair spiked, letterman jacket stretched tight across his shoulders, face twisted in righteous fury. Silas, Nikos, and Jacob flanked him, smirking, ready to back whatever play their leader made.
The One turned slowly.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. Just looked at them with those unfamiliar black-ringed eyes, like he was trying to place faces he’d never bothered to memorize.
Ryan stopped a few feet away, fists already clenched.
“You think you can bribe the officials to give you the captain spot and we wouldn’t know?” he barked.
“Yeah,” Silas added, cracking his knuckles. “We know how this shit works.”
Kai, still holding the strawberry cake box, saw the shift in the air. He quickly shoved the box into the hands of the nearest girl—a sophomore who’d been hovering nearby. She took it with wide eyes, blushing furiously, and bowed her head in a quick “thank you” before clutching it to her chest like a treasure.
Kai moved fast, stepping up beside The One.
Ryan didn’t even glance at him.
“You barely showed up for practice last year,” Ryan went on, voice rising, “and now you’re suddenly the highest scorer and captain? How the hell is that even possible?”
The One tilted his head.
“Maybe I’m just that good,” he snarled, low and dangerous.
The hallway went quieter.
Ryan’s face flushed darker.
“Fuck you, bastard. You’re nothing but a good-for-nothing spoiled brat who thinks his daddy’s pack status buys him everything.”
The One’s lips curled.
“I don’t do well with people’s opinions in my life,” he said, voice dropping to something almost intimate. “So back off. Unless you want the attention you’re really craving.”
Ryan squeezed his fists so hard his knuckles cracked white.
He took a step forward.
Nikos grabbed his arm.
“Dude,” Nikos muttered urgently. “You remember last time.”
Ryan snarled, yanking his arm free.
They were having a stare-down now—Ryan breathing hard, The One calm as death.
Across the hall, Manson appeared through the thinning crowd. He walked straight toward Harper and Catherine, shoulders hunched like a man who knew he was walking into fire.
Catherine spotted him first.
She leaned close to Harper. “Incoming.”
Harper stiffened.
Manson stopped in front of them, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Can I talk to you, Harper?” he asked. Voice low. Careful.
Catherine glanced at Harper, then stepped back with a quick “I’ll be over there” and melted into the crowd.
Harper crossed her arms.
“What do you want to say?”
Manson glanced around—too many eyes, too much noise.
“I know you’re mad at me,” he said. “But please… can we talk for a few minutes? Alone?”
Harper studied him.
His face was still bruised from the weekend—shoulder wrapped under his hoodie, faint claw marks visible at the collar. He looked smaller than she remembered. Less cocky.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Fine. Talk.”
“Not here,” he said. “It’s too noisy.”
She nodded once.
They started walking together—away from the bulletin board, away from the crowd, down the side corridor toward the quieter wing near the art rooms.
The One wasn’t listening to Ryan anymore.
His head had snapped toward Harper the second she moved.
He saw her walking beside Manson.
Saw the way Manson’s hand brushed too close to her elbow.
Saw her nod.
Something snapped inside him.
“Out of my way,” he barked.
The command wasn’t loud.
But it carried.
Ryan stumbled backward like he’d been shoved, boots skidding on the tile. Silas caught him before he fell. Nikos and Jacob stepped aside fast.
The One didn’t look at them again.
He walked straight through the space they’d occupied—shoulders brushing past kids who scattered like startled birds.
Kai hurried after him.
“Hold up—”
The One didn’t slow.