The highs of the weekend were well and truly over. With the event in the rearview mirror, the citizens of New York City went back to their everyday lives—back to the reality of the mess New York had become.

  With the Monday blues in full effect, Gabriel was more than happy to hear an all-too-familiar noise—the school bell, ringing out like a siren, signalling the release of the students at Jesovalt High.

  Gabriel came rushing down the halls, a huge grin on his face as he cut round the corner, his school bag flung over one shoulder and his Converse laces sprawled everywhere.

  “Gabriel—Gabriel!” a voice shouted out from the distance. Gabriel froze. The voice sounded familiar, but there was no reason for it to be calling out to him. Monday after-school—he stood there wondering why anyone would need him.

  The sound of footsteps slapped against the floor, getting closer and closer. Gabriel turned, and there he was: Coach Kirk, sweating and out of breath.

  “Phew, I thought I missed you there, Gabriel. Looks like the gods are looking down on me today,” said Coach, forcing an awkward chuckle as his lips broke into a half-smile.

  Gabriel stood there analysing his coach’s behaviour—the avoidance of eye contact, the sweat that started out as a drip and turned into streams dripping from the corners of his head. His coach was nervous, and Gabriel could tell.

  “Coach, I don’t mean to rush what you’re going to say, but it’s the end of a long day,” said Gabriel.

  Gabriel’s words hit Coach Kirk like a live wire—a sudden jolt that caused his body to straighten up. His eyes widened, his face perked up, as if Gabriel’s words were the shock to his system he needed to start his battery—which in this case was to get his mouth moving.

  “Listen, Gabriel, and before you give your answer I know what you said to me in the office about the team. But I wouldn’t be coming to you unless I was desperate. David got drunk over the weekend and sprained his ankle, it’s safe to say he won’t be playing football anytime soon. I’m not going to sugar-coat it, I’m just going to hit you with it—we have a big game this afternoon and we need a running back. I wouldn’t be asking if we weren’t desperate.”

  Gabriel waved both hands in front of him, palms out, as if trying to push the coach’s idea back towards him. His head dropped slightly, his gaze falling to the coach’s chest.

  “Coach, that’s rough, but you have a whole squad full of players. I meant what I said when I said I wouldn’t be a part of the team, not when the players have so much power and influence over their teammates and the hierarchy at school.”

  Gabriel’s hands curled into fists, his fingers squeezing tightly against his palms until his knuckles turned pale. Veins pulsed as the memory of last year’s hallway prank burned at the forefront of his mind.

  “Coach, you don’t get it. The team gets away with everything they put their hands on. The team drops the nuke in the middle of the battlefield, knowing full well that if people don’t want blowback from the bomb they dropped, they have to either a) follow them, or b) if they’re popular or pretty enough, be associated with them. How is that fair? Where’s the justice in that? And the teachers—the teachers turn a blind eye because of all the large donations they receive from the team’s parents.

  I refuse to be a part of the problem, not the solution. I hope you can understand that, Coach,” said Gabriel, raising his head to make sure Coach Kirk could see the sincerity in his eyes.

  Coach Kirk’s eyes locked onto Gabriel’s like a missile onto its target, refusing to let go until it hit. Passion laced every word as he responded, refusing to step back.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Gabriel, I understand, and I stand here amazed by your courage. Your bravery to do things others are too afraid to do.”

  The coach glanced at the pupils flooding out of the doors. “Look at them, Gabriel, and I mean get a good look at them.”

  Gabriel looked. Students were rushing out of the doors to get home—some laughing and joking in groups, others walking alone as they hurried to catch the school bus. And then, as the confident, full-of-life wave of students flowed out, came the small wave—those missed, forgotten about. The ones that stayed behind to avoid the noise and chaos of the big wave.

  Then it hit Gabriel like a ton of bricks laid across his chest. His breath came shallow and fast, his mouth opened, his eyes widened as reality sank in. A smile escaped Coach Kirk’s lips. Gabriel’s eyes locked on student after student. It was as if they were a book, one that allowed Gabriel to read without hesitation. With each page turned, with each student passing, words flung off their pages: fear, anxiety, pressure, sadness, anger, disappointment, overlooked. They flowed seamlessly.

  “You see, Gabriel, this is what you don’t see. The wave of pupils that hides and waits until the first wave is over. These are the kids worth fighting for, Gabriel. I commend you for standing by your morals, but I need you. They need you. You can be the shining example, the voice to the voiceless. That’s how you make true change, Gabriel,” said Coach Kirk.

  He’s right. I thought I was fighting for what’s right—for the little guy that was overlooked, fighting against the social norms of this school. But I could be doing so much more than being a voice in the darkness, a voice that carries no weight here. I’m just fighting a losing battle… for the people long forgotten. For the kids overlooked, not given even a glance. I can shine light on their talent. Show this school that everyone can shine—and it starts with me, in a position people will listen to.

  Gabriel turned to the coach, his eyes gleaming with newfound determination. “Alright, Coach, I’m in,” said Gabriel.

  Coach Kirk couldn’t contain his excitement—his missile had landed, a successful hit. “Gabriel, you won’t regret this decision, young man. The coach is out front, I’ll see you in a minute,” said Coach Kirk.

  Gabriel made his way to the front of the school, and no sooner had his foot hit the bottom step than he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  His body twisted in a one-eighty. Standing in front of him was Jai-Lee.

  “Gabe, way to keep a girl waiting. What were you doing in there, taking a number two?” Jai-Lee asked.

  Gabriel’s face curled up, disgust etched across every corner of his expression. “Ewww—no,” he shot back.

  Jai-Lee shook her head. “Gabe, it’s perfectly normal to want to do a number two. Everybody does it,” she said as Gabriel walked away toward the large silver coach. Its door flung open as if welcoming him inside.

  “It’s perfectly normal bodily functions, Gabe. Hold up—where are you going?” Jai-Lee asked.

  Coach Kirk walked past them both, stopping in front of the coach. “You coming or what, Gabriel?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming, Coach,” Gabriel shot back.

  “Hold on—you joined the team again? What part of not joining the team did you not get? We both agreed this wouldn’t be a good idea,” Jai-Lee said.

  Gabriel’s voice dropped, making sure no one could hear him but Jai-Lee.

  “Jai, I understand you’re worried, but I’ll be fine. When I stepped away, I wasn’t in control of my powers. We’ve been working in tandem, and I’ve got the hang of them now. Plus, Coach helped me realise I can do more for the voiceless being part of this team than without. So I’m doing this, Jai—I just hope you can support my decision.”

  Jai-Lee took a quick breath in, then out. “Well, Gabe, as long as you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure, Jai,” said Gabriel.

  “—then I’m with you all the way. As long as I can ride the coach with you to your games.”

  Gabriel raised his arm and waved his coach over. Coach Kirk gave him a thumbs-up in reply and jogged towards them, his heels slapping against the concrete.

  “Gabe, what’s up?” Coach Kirk asked, slightly out of breath.

  “Well, me and Jai have been talking, and I feel I’d be much more comfortable if she could ride the coach to the game with me,” Gabriel said, twiddling his fingers, his thumb gliding across all four of his fingers.

  “Sure, Gabe. If that’s what makes you comfortable, I’m happy to accommodate,” said Coach Kirk.

  Gabriel didn’t wait. He was already moving toward the coach, Jai-Lee right behind him. “Thanks, Coach,” he said over his shoulder, then sprinted towards the steps.

  He stopped in his tracks, staring up at what looked like a mountain of steps. In his mind, it was Mount Everest—a tall task that few survived. As he climbed, his legs felt the weight of the world: heavy, sluggish, hard to move. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes dropped to the final step.

  He had conquered the mountain. But what lay beyond was his true test. He was now on enemy lines—and on the battlefield, David and his boys were waiting.

  As Gabriel took the final step, his body came into view.

  “You,” a voice beamed from the back of the coach.

  Gabriel was firmly in enemy territory, and his enemies knew it—there was no hiding now.