Why is he always so quiet? I've never seen him talk to anyone here. It's like he doesn't want anyone to get close. He's really handsome, and in our class test, he got full marks. There's something so mysterious about him. I kind of like it.
Two girls whispered about me as if I couldn't hear, but I could. Even their hushed voices were clear to me. It's been a long time since I've had a real conversation with anyone. I never seem to find the right words, and the fear of being judged or humiliated holds me back.
It was the third week of my freshman year at Springdale High, a school perched on a hill in the quiet town of Ridgefield. I was lost in thought, seated in the back left side of our classroom near the entrance, resting my left hand on my jaw as I waited for the bell to end the lunch break.
Suddenly, the hallway erupted with gasps and cheers. My curiosity piqued, I glanced toward the commotion and saw a student sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out and hands braced behind him for support. This was someone I had been observing for a few days. Though I hadn't known his name until last week, I learned it during attendance: Ethan Blake. He had a well-built athletic body and an undeniable presence. Initially, I was intrigued by him because he rarely spoke to our classmates, much like me. However, I soon discovered he had a circle of friends in other classes who respected and followed him. He seemed to be the top dog of the freshman class, and I couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he commanded respect. He had definitely earned my respect.
Ethan was on the floor, surrounded by three upperclassmen. I wasn't sure what sparked the fight, but I hoped it would end before things got worse. I could hear Ethan's labored breathing, indicating he had been running from them. One of the upperclassmen stomped on his left foot, grabbed his collar, and slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap echoed through the hallway, causing everyone to wince, yet no one stepped in to stop it. Overcome with fear and feeling a mental breakdown approaching, I moved forward just before another slap could land. My heart raced, and my words felt heavy, but I managed to say, "This is enough. Watching this is really painful. Please, just stop."
The guy sighed and glared at me as if I had deeply offended him. "How dare you intervene while your seniors are teaching you freshmen a lesson?" he said, before delivering a sharp punch to my stomach. I recoiled instinctively, unable to believe he actually tried to hit me. As he took another step towards me, I raised my left leg in defense, and the kick caused him to double over, clutching his stomach in pain. He ended up vomiting in the hallway. At that moment, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever might happen next. Just then, one of the teachers, who had been searching for the source of the commotion, arrived and witnessed the altercation.
I had never been in a fight before, but here I was, starting my freshman year with a conflict involving third-year students.
During the next period, Ethan and I were summoned to the principal's office. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, despite the principal's loud reprimands. The third-year students involved in the fight were also present, watching us with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction. I had never imagined being in such a situation. I glanced at Ethan, the only familiar face in the room, but he was looking down, lost in his own thoughts. I couldn't decipher what was going through his mind. As the principal declared a one-week suspension, I felt a wave of disbelief. I looked around, hoping someone would speak up or offer support, but everyone seemed resigned, as if they had expected this outcome.
Despite my respect for Ethan and the others, I couldn't accept the punishment. I wished the principal would reconsider, but I realized the mess I had created was irreversible. Until now, I had been seen as a mysterious figure in class, but this incident would brand me as a troublemaker. As I left the office, I felt as though I had destroyed everything that mattered to me.
Sitting on the steps of the school ground, I contemplated my future. It was clear that this year was not going to be easy, especially after hurting a third-year student.
I wanted to lay low and focus on my studies, but this incident would undoubtedly affect my academic performance. I decided that transferring schools might be the best option-a new environment where I could start fresh and leave this mess behind.
"Your name is Daniel, right?" Ethan's voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see him smiling, seeming to accept the punishment for the fight. I leaned towards my lap and replied in a dissatisfied tone, "Yeah."
"You really keep your answers short," Ethan said with a chuckle. "Thanks for stepping in, but I could've taken a few more slaps before the teacher showed up." I took a moment, thinking about how to respond, then said, "If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have stepped in. I hoped they'd end the fight themselves, but it didn't happen."
"You should watch out for the third years; they'll definitely be looking to take you on alone," Ethan warned.
"I'm planning to transfer schools anyway, so I don't think that'll be much of a problem," I replied, my determination evident.
"Then I should transfer with you," Ethan said matter-of-factly. "Since you won't have any friends there, let me be your first one. I'm Ethan Blake." His offer puzzled me. Why would he want to transfer with me? Was it because of the fight, or was there another reason?
"I don't know much about your transfer plans, but I wouldn't mind having you as a friend," I said. "I've been curious about you lately. I heard you're the top guy in the first year. Honestly, I was pretty scared seeing you getting beaten and no one stepping in."
Ethan's smile widened as if he found something amusing. He sat down beside me comfortably and asked, "Where are you planning to transfer?"
Though I hadn't made a final decision, it was clear I needed a place that would offer a good academic excuse for moving. Crestwood High came to mind-a school known for its top students. In a city like Brookhaven, there were definitely students who excelled academically and landed great jobs, but not everyone did. People often see only the successes and overlook the struggles. For me, Crestwood was a safe choice, far from Ridgefield, where I could make a fresh start.
"Crestwood High, I guess," I answered.
Ethan smirked. "Ah, for a guy who only studies, that's an obvious choice." His remark wasn't really a response to my decision; it was more a way to close the conversation. I let it slide, saying nothing in return.
As the final bell of the day rang, signaling the end of classes, I walked through the bustling hallways of Springdale High with a heavy heart but a flicker of hope. The weight of the day's events still lingered, but Ethan's unexpected offer to transfer with me provided a glimmer of comfort amid the uncertainty.
Outside, the cool breeze of the evening air greeted me as I stood at the edge of the school grounds, looking out over the quiet town of Ridgefield. The future felt daunting, and the road ahead was uncertain. But for the first time in a while, there was a sense of anticipation rather than dread.
With Ethan by my side, even if just in thought for now, the prospect of starting fresh at Crestwood High seemed a bit less intimidating. I wasn't sure what awaited me there, but I knew I had an ally in Ethan-a friend who had seen me at my worst and still chose to offer support.
As I made my way home, I resolved to face the coming challenges head-on.
The road to Crestwood High was more than just a change of schools; it was a chance for a new beginning. And as I looked forward to the next step in my journey, I took a deep breath and allowed myself to feel a small but genuine spark of optimism.