The Puncher, The Shadow,

My alarm blares. It’s 7:15 a.m.

Cliff lifts his head from the foot of my bed, tail thumping happily against the floor. I lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, replaying Saturday night in my head. The gas station. The fight. Vector Prime showed up after it was all over. I already know by first bell, by every hallway conversation, by every phone screen lit up in every hand, everyone is going to be talking about me.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, get dressed, and head downstairs. Something’s cooking, but it doesn’t smell like breakfast. Jakiya’s already at the table, staring at her phone, cereal bowl in front of her, television playing in the background. She looks up when I walk in.

“Why do you have the TV on if you’re not even watching it, Kiya?”

“Mind your business, not mine.”

I grab a bowl, sit across from her, and pour cereal. “I see Mom put something in the crockpot for dinner tonight.”

Jakiya makes a face. “Hopefully it’s not what she made last time.”

We eat in silence. Dad’s already gone to work. Mom comes down the stairs, keys in hand, already dressed for the office.

“Y’all ready? I’m dropping you off early. Got a meeting.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Jakiya says.

We grab our bags and head out.

The school is loud before we even step through the doors. The hallways are packed, and every single conversation is about the same thing. I hear it the second I walk in:

“Bro, did you see the video?”

“That video was CRAZY.”

“He almost killed that man though.”

“The guy was robbing people what did you expect him to do?”

“Call the cops.”

I keep my head down and walk straight to my locker. Rashon’s already there, leaning against it, phone in hand.

“Bro you see this?” He turns the screen toward me. Twitter. The video has two hundred thousand views. People are breaking it down frame by frame, zooming in, analysing every move, trying to figure out who the masked guy is. Trying to figure out myself.

“Yeah. I saw it.”

Rashon grins. “They calling you ‘The Puncher’ now.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s a trash name.”

“Good thing it’s not your real one.” He laughs, leaning back against the lockers. “Devon texted the group chat last night. Said everybody’s hitting the gym after school today.”

“What time?”

“Four. Said don’t be late.”

I close my locker and we start walking toward first period. Then I hear Devon before I see him.

“Rashon. Jahkeen.”

We both turn. He’s walking toward us, backpack slung over one shoulder, calm as ever.

Rashon grins. “Big Devon. What’s good?”

“Y’all see my text?”

“Yeah, we seen it”

Devon cuts him off. “Four o’clock means four o’clock. Don’t be late.” He falls into step beside us, then looks at me. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Good. Been a minute.”

We walk on. The hallway is a sea of noise voices, footsteps, and locker doors slamming.

“Yo you seen the video though?” Rashon says.

Devon takes a moment before answering. “Yeah. But… the dude kinda went overboard, don’t you think?”

Rashon glances at me. I keep my eyes straight ahead.

We reach the classroom. Marcus is standing outside the door talking to someone. He spots Devon and instantly stands a little straighter doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

“Dev. Gym today?”

“Four o’clock. Do y’all not look at the group chat?”

“I’ll be there.” Marcus falls in with us as we walk inside. “Yo but you seen that video though? The meta one?”

“Yeah,” Devon says.

“Wild, right? You think he actually knows how to fight, or was he just tanking hits?”

“Both probably,” Devon says, setting his bag down and taking a seat. “Kid’s raw, though. But the way he moved when he closed the distance on the first two guys… that wasn’t nothing. He’s got experience.”

Marcus pulls up the video on his phone. “See this part right here? He just stands there and lets them shoot him. Who does that? That’s sick, yo.”

Devon glances at the screen. “That’s not the part that bothers me. It’s what comes after. When the big guy was already down and he kept going. That’s where he lost me.”

“Lost you how? Dude was a criminal.”

“Doesn’t matter. You won. It’s over. If you keep going after that… it’s not about stopping a robbery anymore. It’s something else.”

Marcus blinks. “Then what do you think it’s about?”

Devon doesn’t answer right away. He just looks toward the front of the room, thoughtful and quiet.

“I don’t know,” he finally says.

Marcus tries to shift gears. “Y’all seen that badass reporter talking to Vector Prime? Damn, bro.”

“It’s Vector, not Victor,” Devon says, as the name offended him personally.

“Yeah, for sure. Whatever.” Marcus waves it off.

I look down at my desk. I say nothing.

Mrs. Davis starts talking. Nobody listens.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Arie: Good morning 😊 You make it to school yet?

Me: Good morning. Just walked into class.

Arie: Me too. This teacher is so boring omg.

Me: Which class?

Arie: AP Lit. We’re supposed to be discussing the book but nobody read it.

Me: Lol yeah that class sounds boring.

Arie: I’ll see you at lunch ☺️

I slide the phone back into my pocket. Rashon’s leaning over, watching me.

“Who’s that?”

“Why you worried about who I’m texting?”

“It’s Arie, isn’t it?”

I give a small smirk. “Yeah.”

“Oh SHIT. My boy did it!” He does a little celebratory lean. “Wingman Ray reporting for duty!”

“Bro, ‘Wingman Ray’ is not catching on.”

“Give it time. Trust me.”

Devon glances back at us. “You two done?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Good. Pay attention.”

I try. I really do. For about four minutes. Then I give up.

First period actually moves fast mostly because Devon asks one question about the reading that makes half the class actually think, and Mrs. Davis looks genuinely shocked that anyone cares.

Second period is math. Mr. Henderson puts thirty problems on the board and tells us to work independently which really means twenty-five minutes of Rashon sliding me notes that say “bro I don’t know what any of this means” and “just give me the answer to number seven.” I do not give him the answer to number seven.

Third period drags. History. Worse Rashon isn’t in this one.

When the bell rings for lunch, I’m already standing.

The cafeteria is loud the second I walk in not the usual noise, but that charged, buzzing kind. Every table has phones out. Everyone’s talking at once.

I spot our table near the windows. Rashon’s there, leaning back in his chair. Arie sits next to him, tray in hand. Maya and Jakiya across from them.

I sit down.

“Finally,” Rashon says. “Bro, I’ve been waiting.”

“It’s literally 12:01,” Maya says. “You got here at 11:59.”

“Which means I waited.”

“For two minutes.”

“Two long minutes, Maya.”

She stares at him. “Whatever.”

Arie looks up when I sit. She smiles.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say. “You look beautiful today.”

Her smile softens and she blushes. “Thank you. You look… handsome. You look good.”

Everyone at the table laughs.

“Thank you,” I say, grinning.

I open my lunch bag. Mom made me a turkey and cheese sandwich. Tucked inside is a note that just says be good. It feels pointed. Very pointed. I fold it up and put it in my pocket.

Arie turns toward me. “You going to the gym after school?”

“Yeah. Devon called everyone in.”

“Devon runs that gym, right? His dad’s place?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool that he kept it going.” She picks at her food. “You been boxing long?”

“Since freshman year. Rashon got me into it.”

She glances over at Rashon, who is currently trying to steal chips off Maya’s tray without being noticed. “He got you into boxing? He does not look like he boxes.”

“He’s actually pretty decent. Would be a lot better if he didn’t mess around half the time.”

Arie laughs. “He does mess around a lot.”

“Every time.”

Jakiya leans over the table. “What y’all talking about?”

“The gym,” I say.

She nods, then “Arie, you should come watch one day.”

Arie raises an eyebrow and looks at me. “Yeah?”

I shrug. “I mean… if you want.”

“I might take you up on that.”

Jakiya hides a smile behind her water bottle. I look at her. She looks away. She knows exactly what she just did.

Maya watches the whole exchange like it’s her favourite show. Says nothing. Just watches.

Rashon finally snatches a chip. Holds it up like a trophy.

“I watched you take that,” Maya says.

“Irrelevant.”

Nijah walks over, drops into the seat next to Rashon, backpack still on, tray already full like she ran through the line at record speed.

“Why does this school serve the same five meals on rotation?” she says. “Four years. Every Monday same thing.”

“What’d you get?” Rashon asks.

“The chicken thing.”

“The chicken thing is good!”

“The chicken thing is always dry, Rashon.”

“You just gotta get the sauce.”

“The sauce makes it worse.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I promise you it is.” She sets her bag down. Looks around. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Rashon says.

“Jahkeen and Arie being cute,” Maya and Rashon say in perfect unison.

“Awwww”

“Eat your dry chicken,” I tell her.

Nijah laughs.

We talk for a while nothing heavy. Rashon complaining about math. Maya stressing over three finals next week. Nijah asking Arie about some drama I don’t know the details of.

Then someone at the table behind us connects to the cafeteria speakers.

A news broadcast cuts in three seconds is all it takes:

“masked individual seen in footage from the incident. New Haven police are asking ”

Someone yanks the cord. But three seconds was enough.

The cafeteria erupts.

“They still on this?” Rashon says.

“They gonna be on it for a while,” Nijah says. “That man almost died.”

“Almost,” Arie says.

Nijah leans forward. “You team vigilante now?”

“I’m team he stopped a robbery and everyone’s acting like it means nothing.”

“He also beat someone half to death.”

“The someone was robbing people.”

“That doesn’t mean ”

“I know what it means. I’m just saying both things can be true.”

Jakiya goes quiet. She stares at her food. She doesn’t look at me.

I appreciate it more than she knows.

Rashon steals another chip. The moment breaks.

Lunch ends. The rest of the day drags the way Monday afternoons always do — slow, heavy, endless.

By 3:15 I’m at my locker. Rashon’s already there.

“Are we walking or getting a ride?”

“Walking,” I say. “I feel like walking today.”

“Cool. Marcus said he’ll meet us there.”

We head out into the afternoon sun. The air feels cool, the light golden. I take a deep breath. I need the walk. I need the space. I need to think about what Devon said about crossing the line. About when winning isn’t enough. About keeping going when it’s already over.

Because he’s right.

And I’ve been trying not to think about that part.