Jamal sensed it immediately. He slowed to a stop, not turning around, but his shoulders tensed for a brief moment.
Footsteps—quiet, careful, but not subtle enough to avoid the ears trained to sense danger like Jamal's. He didn't need to turn around to know who was there.
"You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone with no consequences?"
Blake's voice rang out from behind, low and full of fury.
Jamal didn't answer right away. He just took a slow breath as if weighing his options. He could try to reason with him, he could ignore it and walk away, but from the tone of Blake's voice, from how he was holding his anger back in every word, Jamal knew Blake had already decided that tonight wasn't going to end peacefully.
So when he slowly turned around, his expression was no longer indifferent.
Blake and Ryan stood there, both looking tense but also ready to do anything to regain control.
"You really want to do this?" Jamal asked, his voice devoid of threat, simply a question.
Blake clenched his fists, his eyes burning with the fire of wounded pride. "You have no other choice."
Then he lunged.
Blake threw a powerful punch aimed directly at Jamal's face with all his might. But before the blow could land, Jamal moved—no rush, no panic, just perfect precision. He turned his head to the side, letting the punch skim his cheek, and before Blake had a chance to retract his arm, Jamal countered.
He kicked straight into Blake's stomach. The kick didn't need to be that hard; it just needed to be at the right time and in the right place. And instantly, Blake was pushed back, gasping for breath from the unexpected force. He was sent sprawling, stumbling into a nearby parked car, coughing violently from the loss of air.
Ryan didn't wait for Blake to get back up. He charged in, thinking he could take advantage of Jamal being focused on Blake to attack from behind. But Jamal had anticipated that. In just a second, he spun around, his right hand catching Ryan's wrist just as he threw a punch.
Ryan didn't have time to react. Jamal twisted his wrist at an angle to reduce the force of the blow, then yanked hard, using Ryan's momentum to slam him down onto the ground. A heavy thud echoed as Ryan's back hit the concrete, pain coursing through his body immediately.
Blake, now having regained his breath, his eyes wide in disbelief, saw Ryan sprawled on the ground groaning from the fall. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that once again, Jamal had controlled the entire situation.
Jamal didn't stand there to taunt, didn't make a show of challenging him. He simply stood upright, looking down at Blake with complete calmness, as if everything that had just happened was an event he had already known the outcome of, as if Blake had never had a chance from the start.
Blake's humiliation was deeper than ever before. This time he hadn't just lost in front of the whole school; he had lost even when no one was watching, with no one for him to blame or make excuses to. He had been defeated completely in the most literal sense, and that drove him crazier than anything else.
Blake knew that he couldn't keep charging at Jamal and expect a different result. The last two times he had thought that his strength and authority would overpower his opponent, but both times not only did he lose, but he was also humiliated in the worst possible way. Jamal wasn't the type of person he could intimidate with threats or reckless punches, and that made him angrier than anything else.
The problem wasn't that Jamal was stronger than him. The problem was that Jamal didn't see him as a threat. That drove Blake crazy.
This time he knew he had to change tactics. If one-on-one couldn't take Jamal down, he wouldn't let the fight unfold that way. He needed to create a situation where no matter how fast, strong, or smart Jamal was, he wouldn't be able to win.
He spent the next day gathering a team—not cowards who only knew how to provoke from afar, but people who could actually cause damage.
Jason King, the wrestling team captain, known for his massive build and opponent control skills.
Derek Lane, a hothead who had been suspended multiple times for brawling.
Zack Torres, the quietest but also the most dangerous, because he never fought without a reason, and once he engaged, he wouldn't stop until his opponent couldn't stand anymore.
Blake spun a story that Jamal had embarrassed all the athletes in school, and that if they didn't teach him a lesson sooner or later, he'd disrespect them the way he had disrespected him. It didn't take long for the group to agree.
He sent Jamal a short, blunt message with no pretenses or hidden agendas:
*Meet me after school, 5:00 p.m. A real fight. You have no choice.*
He didn't have to wait long for a response.
*All right.*
No fuss, no questions, no sign of hesitation.
Blake gripped his phone tightly, his eyes gleaming with malice. This time, Jamal wouldn't win.
---
When the clock struck exactly 5:00 p.m., the sky had already started to turn a faint orange, stretching the shadows across the ground. At the back of the school, the emptiest spot—no teachers, no witnesses, just an empty, dirty yard with some withered grass and old concrete walls. The perfect place for a confrontation that no one could stop.
Blake walked forward with his team: Jason and Derek on either side like two walls of muscle, Ryan and Zach following closely behind, forming a lineup that anyone could tell wasn't an even match but a premeditated slaughter.