Chapter 16 The silent spectator
Chapter 16: The Silent Spectator (Liam’s POV)
The gym was a pulsating hive of noise and heat, but I felt like I was standing in a block of ice. I was tucked into the shadows of the upper bleachers, my hoodie pulled low, watching the Pep Rally unfold like a slow-motion car crash.
Technically, I shouldn't have been there. I was suspended. But I couldn't stay away. I told myself I wanted to see if the team could handle the opening ceremony without me. The truth was worse. I wanted to see if she would show up.
I found her near the main entrance. Elena was leaning on her crutches, her face pale under the harsh mercury lights. She was surrounded by a sea of blue and gold jerseys, a small, stubborn island in a world that wanted to drown her. She was selling programs, her fingers trembling as she handled the cash, but her chin was tilted up.
She looked like a queen in a graveyard. And I was the one who had dug the graves.
"And now!" Jax’s voice boomed through the speakers. He was at center court, basking in the spotlight that used to be mine. He looked at the crowd, then his eyes flickered to the entrance where Elena was standing. A slow, cruel smirk spread across his face. "Before we get to the starting lineup, we have a little 'thank you' for our favorite scholarship student."
The crowd went silent. I felt a cold pit form in my stomach. I knew that look on Jax's face. It was the look he had right before he checked a freshman into the boards just to hear the bones snap.
The lights cut out. A second later, the massive jumbotron above the court flickered to life.
It wasn't a highlight reel. It was the recording from the diner. My voice—arrogant, sharp, and dripping with a fake confidence I didn't even feel at the time—blasted through the speakers.
“She’s nothing, Jax. A game. I'll have her eating out of my hand by the playoffs. Thirty thousand is a small price to pay for a win.”
The gym erupted. It wasn't just a laugh; it was a roar of mockery. I stayed frozen in the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs. I should have moved. I should have run down those stairs and ripped the cables out of the wall. But I didn't.
I watched as the spotlight swung around and pinned Elena against the brick wall. She looked blinded, her hand coming up to shield her eyes. The programs she was holding slipped from her fingers, scattering like dead leaves across the floor.
"Pick them up, Ghost!" someone yelled from the senior section.
"Is the thirty thousand enough for a new leg?" another voice shrieked.
Chloe stepped into the light next to Jax, holding a bucket. With a triumphant grin, she hurled a handful of fake money into the air. It wasn't just paper—it had Elena’s bruised face printed on every bill. Within seconds, the cheerleaders were throwing thousands of them into the bleachers.
The students started chanting. "Hustler! Hustler! Hustler!"
I looked at Elena. She wasn't moving. She was just standing there, the fake money fluttering around her, her eyes fixed on the screen where my face was still frozen in a smirk. She looked directly toward the shadows where I was hiding. She couldn't see me, but I felt her gaze like a physical burn.
Move, Liam, I told myself. Do something.
But my legs felt like lead. I thought of my father’s warning. I thought of the trust fund. I thought of the fact that if I stepped into that light, I wasn't just a suspended player—I was a social suicide.
Down on the floor, Jax skated—on his roller-blades—right up to her. He was laughing, his face inches from hers. He said something I couldn't hear, and then, in one smooth, practiced motion, he hooked the end of his hockey stick around the base of her crutch.
He pulled.
Elena’s bad leg gave way. She hit the floor with a sickening thud, her books and programs flying everywhere. The laughter in the gym reached a fever pitch.
That was when the ice finally broke.
I bolted down the stairs, jumping over seats, pushing past students who tried to greet me. I didn't care about the suspension anymore. I didn't care about the cameras. But I was too late. I was so damn late.
By the time I reached the gym floor, the damage was done. Elena was already pulling herself up, her fingers clawing at the floor-mats. She had one crutch in her hand, and she used it to steady herself, her face a mask of such pure, concentrated rage that it stopped the laughter of the students closest to her.
I stepped into the light. "Jax, that’s enough!"
Jax turned, his eyes widening in mock surprise. "Look who decided to show up! The King has returned from exile! What’s the matter, Liam? Did you come to help her count the cash?"
I ignored him and reached for Elena’s arm. "Elena, let me—"
She didn't let me finish. She swung the heavy wooden crutch with everything she had, the base of it slamming into my chest. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the look in her eyes.
"Don't you touch me!" she screamed. The gym went dead silent. The only sound was the hum of the speakers and her ragged, sobbing breath. "You stood there! I saw you! I saw you watching from the top of the bleachers!"
"I... I was coming down," I stammered, my voice sounding pathetic even to my own ears.
"You were waiting!" she spat, blood trickling from a small cut on her lip where she’d hit the floor. "You waited until they had their fun. You waited until I was on the ground. You wanted the show to finish, didn't you, Liam? You wanted to make sure everyone knew exactly how much I was worth."
"Elena, no—"
"Get away from me!" she shrieked as I tried to take another step. She looked at Jax, then at Chloe, and finally back at me. "You’re all the same. You’re all bored, rich monsters who think the world is a playground. Well, enjoy your game. But you’re never going to win that bet. Because I’d rather die than let a coward like you ever touch me again."
She turned, her crutches thumping rhythmically against the floor as she hobbled toward the exit. No one stopped her. No one laughed this time. They just watched her go, a broken girl with more spine than the entire varsity team combined.
I stood in the center of the court, the spotlight still burning my skin. I looked at Jax, who was smirking, and at Chloe, who was preening.
"That was a hell of a show, Cap," Jax said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now, why don't you go home before the Principal sees you? We've got a game to win."
I looked down at the floor. My foot was resting on one of the fake bills with Elena’s face on it. I picked it up, my hand shaking.
I wasn't a King. I wasn't even a man. I was exactly what she called me. A spectator.
I walked out of the gym, the fake bill crumpled in my fist. I headed for my car, but someone was waiting for me in the shadows of the bus lane. It was Chloe. She was holding my phone—the one I’d accidentally left in the library yesterday. 'You left this, Liam. And you forgot to lock it.' She turned the screen toward me. It was open to my notes app, filled with the thousands of words I’d written about Elena when I couldn't sleep. 'If you ever try to help her again,' Chloe whispered, 'the whole school gets to read your diary. Let’s see how the "King" survives being a poet for a Ghost.'