The sand clung to my feet as I shifted my weight, watching the scene unfold. Conversations overlapped—some students still figuring out what to do next, others already moving toward the water.
Daniel stood among them, relaxed, hands tucked into the pockets of his open button-up shirt, tank top underneath. His shorts, slightly loose, matched the effortless energy he carried.
And for a second, I almost smirked.
Because I'd seen that exact look before.
His friends—Ethan, Ryan, Zach, Julian, Logan, Owen, Adrian—they'd all been wearing the same thing earlier. Different colors, maybe. But the style? Identical. Half-sleeve floral shirts left open over tank tops, paired with shorts that made it clear this trip wasn't just about relaxing—it was about standing out, together.
Then, just like that—
"Alright, enough standing around." His voice cut through the noise, smooth but loud enough to grab attention.
People turned, waiting.
"Volleyball." He didn't phrase it as a suggestion. More like a statement. "Let's get two teams. Should be fun."
And just like that, students jumped in.
Someone dragged out a ball. Others were already clearing space near the net that had been set up earlier.
"I'll play!"
"Me too!"
"Call your teams!"
I wasn't planning to play.
But before I could even think about stepping back—
"You. You're playing."
He didn't phrase it as a question.
I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. Why me? Out of all these people?
But refusing would only bring more attention. And besides, it wasn't like I hated volleyball.
"Teams were picked fast, a mix of voices calling out names, groups forming across the sand. Just when I assumed I'd be up against Daniel, he spoke up."
"You're with me."
The game started off easy. Light serves, playful energy. But that didn't last long.
Daniel was competitive. That much was obvious.
He wasn't playing to show off, but he wasn't just messing around either. His movements were quick, calculated. He barely needed to call plays—he just knew where to be.
At one point, the ball came flying toward me—fast, almost too fast. Instinct took over. I stepped back, arms steady, meeting it with a clean bump to keep it in play.
Before I could even track where it went, Daniel was already moving. No hesitation. His body shifted smoothly, reading the court as if he knew exactly where the ball would land before it even did.
Then—one sharp leap.
The set was effortless, precise.
And the spike that followed? Brutal.
The ball slammed past the opposing blockers, hitting the sand before anyone could react.
The crowd's reaction was immediate—cheers, groans from the other side, a few playful complaints.
"Damn, Carter's got reflexes!"
"Bro, are you even trying?" someone joked after failing to block him.
Daniel just grinned, spinning the ball in his hands before sending the next serve over the net.
The match stretched longer than expected. Sand kicked up with every sharp movement, bodies twisting mid-air for saves, shouts filling the air whenever a close call was made.
And in the middle of it all—Daniel.
Not forcing it. Not commanding the game. Just… there. Moving through it like he belonged, like this was all just a part of the moment.
The final point came in a blur. A rally that had half the players breathless, the ball flying back and forth until—
A clean spike.
Daniel.
Game over.
The ball bounced once on the sand before rolling to a stop. A beat of silence—then applause, laughter, some playful groans from the losing side.
Daniel exhaled, pushing his damp hair back as he looked around. His gaze flickered past me—just for a second.
Then, with that same easy smirk, he stretched his arms above his head.
"Not bad."
And just like that, the moment passed.
The game ended, but the energy it left behind still lingered.
Ethan
What the hell is going on with him?
Daniel blending in like that, moving through groups so easily—it wasn't something I expected. Was he really trying to bond with them? If that was the case, maybe we didn't have to worry.
Still, something about it didn't sit right with me.
I let out a small breath, shaking my head as we moved deeper into the amusement park. The midday sun was sharp, casting shadows on the pavement as people moved between rides, the air filled with chatter and the distant mechanical groans of roller coasters.
We had been standing in line for a while, waiting for one of the bigger rides—a high-speed coaster with a twisting track. The group had fallen into casual conversation, debating whether this ride was worth the wait or if they should hit another one first.
That's when it happened.
A few guys, probably a couple of years older, slipped right past us, walking straight to the front like they owned the place. It wasn't subtle either—they barely even acknowledged the people they were cutting ahead of. A few murmurs of protest rose from the crowd, but no one really called them out.
Until I did.
"Hey." My voice was firm but even, cutting through the noise.
The closest one, a guy with sunglasses hooked onto his shirt, turned slightly, barely giving me a glance. "What?"
"You skipped the line," I said simply, my stance relaxed. No aggression—just a fact.
The guy let out a small laugh, looking at his friends. "So?"
The conversation in our group died down. Zach folded his arms. Julian clicked his tongue. Logan let out a quiet chuckle, like he was waiting to see where this would go. Ryan, standing just behind me, exhaled slightly, his expression unreadable.
"You think this is your place to tell us what to do?" one of them scoffed. "You're just a bunch of high schoolers."
I didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
Because the moment I stepped forward, the rest of the group shifted with me. Not in an obvious, threatening way—just enough for the strangers to register the weight behind us.
Seven guys. Three girls. All standing together, quiet, unreadable.
The atmosphere changed.
The strangers weren't laughing anymore. There was a flicker of hesitation—like they were realizing this wasn't the kind of group you messed with.
"You're holding up the line," I said, my voice steady.
They didn't answer right away. One of them looked between us, then muttered something under his breath. The guy in sunglasses exhaled sharply, shaking his head before nudging his friend.
"Whatever. Not worth it."
Just like that, they stepped back, blending into the crowd again.
"Thought so," Julian murmured as they retreated.
The tension faded just as quickly as it came. Logan stretched his arms behind his head like nothing happened, while Zach smirked slightly.
"That was fun," Owen said, stretching his arms.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "You guys are unbelievable."
Ryan let out a quiet breath, adjusting his wristband. Logan checked the time, uninterested, while Zach stepped forward as the line moved.
No one said much about what just happened. They didn't need to.
The strangers were gone, the moment already fading like it was never a question.
I exhaled, glancing ahead. "Let's just get on the damn ride."
************
The restaurant was buzzing with life, filled with the clinking of plates and the steady hum of conversations. Sunlight spilled through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the polished wooden tables. Our group had settled near the middle, casually sipping on cold drinks—a light moment before we'd all have to gather for lunch.
I wasn't sitting with Daniel. He was a bit further off, surrounded by a few other schoolmates, leaning back in his chair as he scrolled through his phone between sips of his drink. Meanwhile, I was at the edge of our group, close enough to hear both the lively chatter of my schoolmates and the quieter, more disgruntled voices coming from a table nearby.
Three guys sat there—locals, probably a couple of years older than us. They weren't eating much, just stirring half-empty glasses as they talked in low voices. At first, I wasn't really paying attention, but then I heard it.
"Man, our own town doesn't even feel like ours anymore," one of them muttered, loud enough that it didn't sound like a private conversation.
"Yeah, everywhere you turn, it's just these outsiders taking over," another sighed, shaking his head.
The third guy exhaled sharply, barely glancing at us as he leaned forward. "We can't even enjoy our own place because of them."
They weren't looking at anyone in particular, but their eyes flickered toward our group. Just enough to make it clear who they were talking about.
I tensed slightly, glancing toward Daniel's table. A few others had picked up on the murmurs, shifting in their seats. Someone sighed, another clicked their tongue, but no one outright reacted.
Daniel, as usual, remained composed. He didn't even lift his head, just took another sip of his drink before saying, "Forget it."
It was subtle, but effective. No one responded after that, even if the irritation still lingered.
But the locals had noticed. One of them smirked, exchanging a glance with his friend. His eyes flickered over Daniel's outfit, then slowly scanned the other schoolmates—like piecing together a puzzle.
And then, something shifted in the air.
Recognition.
They knew.
They had connected Daniel to something.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure if I should say something.
Would it even matter? Would warning Daniel do anything, or was I just overthinking it?
As I debated, Daniel and two others stood up, heading toward the washroom. I hesitated, my stomach twisting with unease.
I should say something.
Before I could, the three locals exchanged looks, then stood up too.
I knew where this was going.
And I was already walking into it.
The hallway leading to the restrooms was quieter, away from the restaurant's main noise. The air was cooler, carrying the faint scent of cleaning chemicals.
Daniel and the two others walked ahead casually, unaware—or maybe just unfazed—by the three locals trailing a short distance behind. I wasn't walking with them, but I followed at a distance, torn between acting on my gut feeling and convincing myself I was just overthinking.
The door swung shut behind them. A brief silence. Then the muffled sound of voices.
I quickened my pace.
Pushing the door open, I stepped inside just in time to see one of the locals shove Daniel's shoulder as he walked past the sinks.
Daniel barely reacted, only tilting his head slightly to glance at the guy. There was no hostility in his face, just quiet, assessing eyes. It was like he was giving them a chance to back off.
They didn't.
"The hell is this?" One of the guys scoffed, standing just a little too close to Daniel. His smirk was gone, replaced by something colder. "You and your little tourist friends think you own this place?"
Another one clicked his tongue. "Aren't those seven jerks and three girls your friends?"
Daniel exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering just for a second. A barely noticeable shift, but enough.
The second guy smirked, taking the pause as hesitation. "Yeah? Let's see how interested you are in this."
Then came the first kick—a sudden, brutal jab to Daniel's gut.
I flinched. One of the schoolmates stepped forward in shock, but Daniel barely moved, only staggering a step back, his arm bracing slightly against the sink. His expression didn't change, though. Just a sharp inhale, like he was registering the situation.
A second hit came just as fast. This time, it wasn't a kick. The third guy grabbed Daniel by the collar and yanked him forward, shoving him down. His head slammed into the sink, and in the next second, the tap was turned on, water rushing out as they forced his head under.
"Not so tough now, are you?" one of them muttered, holding him down.
My chest tightened. My fists clenched without thinking. But I didn't move.
One of Daniel's friends lunged in—tried to yank the guy off him. Big mistake. He caught a punch to the stomach and collapsed against the stall door.
My legs moved on their own—not toward the fight, but toward the friend. I grabbed his arm, steadying him, pulling him back just enough so he didn't stumble and hit the tiles headfirst.
"Stay down," I muttered—more out of instinct than thought.
That's when everything shifted. The shift happened so fast I barely processed it—how Daniel jerked free, twisted the attacker's wrist, the crack of face against sink, the sharp precision in his hits, clean and brutal.
I didn't join. I couldn't.
But I didn't look away either.
The second guy lunged. Daniel sidestepped, swift and controlled, before driving his elbow into the guy's ribs. A choked gasp escaped him, but before he could recover, Daniel's hand shot up, gripping his collar. In one motion, he shoved the guy back against the stall door and drove a fist into his jaw. The guy slumped, dazed.
The last one hesitated. Just a split second of doubt.
Daniel didn't.
His leg snapped up—quick, precise, and effortless. The kick landed straight into the guy's temple. His head whipped to the side, his body crumpling against the tiled floor.
Silence settled in the washroom, broken only by labored breathing and the faint dripping of water from the sink.
Daniel sighed, straightening his shirt, shaking off the water from his fingers. He barely spared the three guys a glance before looking at us. "Let's go."
We didn't linger. Pushing past the guys on the floor, we stepped out into the hallway. The air felt cooler—lighter—away from the mess inside. The two others walked ahead, still rattled, muttering something to each other.
Daniel slowed slightly.
I did too.
Just a quiet pace behind the others, the hallway nearly silent now.
Then he glanced at me.
"Thanks," he said, voice low. "For catching him. Most people wouldn't bother."
I shook my head. "It wasn't anything."
He studied me for a second, like he was turning that answer over. Not suspicious—just thoughtful.
"You didn't step in back there," he added. Not accusing. Just stating.
"I'm not someone who admires fighting," I said. "Was just trying to keep my distance from all that." Then added, "You had it handled. The others probably would've just gotten in your way."
Daniel nodded. "It's good to see someone who holds a line like that."
Then he half-laughed. "Just look at the mess I made. I could've just taken the hits, let 'em get bored and walk away."
He smiled faintly. "But I couldn't exactly throw away my name in front of those two from our school either. So I fought. And now I kind of hate myself for it."
That surprised me.
From where I stood, it looked like he only moved after one of the guys hurt his friend.
"Honestly?" I said. "It felt like you were holding back. You didn't fight until they hit the guy who came with you."
His smile changed—warmer, almost grateful.
"Ha. You actually saw that. Most people just catch the ending and judge from that. I thought you'd be the same."
He exhaled. "Thanks. That… makes me feel better. I don't usually feel good after fights like that."
It was true.
If I hadn't been paying attention, I would've assumed he was just another good fighter like the two who walked out ahead.
But now?
"I'm sorry," I said. "I felt like they were targeting you. I should've said something before it went that far."
He smiled, this time with a bit of mischief. "Heh. Don't worry. I'm decent in a fight. If you've heard the rumors... yeah, most of them are true."
Then in a quieter voice, almost like a whisper, he added, "But today, I was trying to soften that. You know—get along with people. Show I'm not just what the stories say."
I didn't know why he was telling me all this.
Most people wouldn't.
Especially not someone whose reputation could make or break how others see them.
But Daniel... he was talking like it mattered.
"The two who left?" he said. "They probably thought the fight was cool. Or maybe justified. I just hope they don't spread it like that."
He looked over at me. "But I think you'll see it differently."
"I do," I said. "It wasn't cool. It was a mess. And to be honest, after all the rumors, I kept watching you—trying to figure out what was real. I thought maybe it was just some story, a couple of punches thrown and exaggerated."
He cut in gently, "You don't have to worry. We've got people watching our backs now. Big names."
He paused, then continued, "After things got out of hand earlier this year, we asked for help. Got connected to someone who runs things around here. So now me and my friends… we're under his care."
The way he said "big names" made my mind drift.
Who was behind this?
He said, "We're the first crew from Crestwood. Not officially, though. People just call us the 'guys from Crestwood.' It actually helps—we're not seen as a threat. More like… kids sticking close to power so we don't get stomped."
Before I could stop myself, I asked, "Who's the guy? What's his name?"
Daniel went quiet. Then smirked, like he was laughing at himself.
"You know, when we bring up crews and fights like it's something to be proud of, most people get annoyed. You don't seem like the type who'd be curious."
He continued, "You said you try to avoid fights—which I respect. Honestly, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't walked into the wrong one once. That changed everything."
Then he looked at me a little closer. "But still… you were curious. For someone who hates fighting."
His words hit harder than I expected.
"James Donovan," he said finally. "That's the guy. You know him?"
I answered calmly. "Nope. Never heard of him."
But I guess something gave me away. A pause, maybe. A shift in my eyes.
Daniel waited.
So I exhaled. "I know James. He used to help me with boxing back in middle school."
Then added, "I used to box back then. I stopped later."
Daniel's eyes lit up—like he'd just solved something that'd been bothering him for weeks.
He tilted his head, taking it all in. "He told me about you. Not your name—but your story. Said you were in Crestwood. And that I shouldn't look for you."
A heavy silence hung between us.
So James really said that much?
Daniel continued, "I think you're the guy. The one from his past. The elder brother of Ashley."
Ashley.
I smiled faintly. "Guess James really didn't want you finding me."
I looked down, my voice quieter now. "My brother's name wasn't Ashley. It was Rayyan. But yeah… the story's true."
That's what fighting leads to.
"That's what being someone's brother and fighting led to," I said. "He admired me so much that when he saw some kid getting bullied… he tried to step in. He imitated me. And James blamed himself—thought it was the two moves he taught Rayyan that got him killed."
I shook my head. "But really, it was me. I inspired him to be like that. So if anyone's at fault…"
Daniel said nothing.
Couldn't even look at me.
I guessed that.
So I gave him a small smile, just to ease the weight. "Were you always like this? I thought you were the quiet type. Only smiled around your close friends."
Daniel chuckled. "I used to be more introverted. But I've messed up our friendship lately—overthinking stuff. So now I try not to be that guy anymore. Outside our group, people think I'm this big name. I don't mind it. Helps me keep things balanced."
He paused. "I've been searching for you, honestly. Ever since James mentioned you. Wanted to meet you. Be friends."
Then, slower, more sincerely:
"Even though we're linked with James, we're not trying to be some feared crew. There were people watching me and my friends. After a few clashes, we had to ask for help. But the moment things calm down—we're out."
He met my eyes.
"We're just a bunch of friends trying to enjoy school. That's all. The fights? They find us. Like today."
He took a breath.
"I want you to be part of it. Not the fighting—the group. Just… us. You don't have to deal with James or any of that. Just the joy we carry."
I'd never really been in a group. Not back in middle school. Not here either.
I helped people. Talked to them. But I was always… just outside.
"What's it like?" I asked. "To be part of something like that? A group that fights, argues… and still holds together?"
Daniel smiled. "It means we're close. We've had our tensions, yeah. But it only shows how much we care."
He added, "I'm the odd one. The one who overthinks and complicates things. But they stick with me anyway."
He laughed a little. "I told you. One fight pulled me into this world. But if I had the chance to go back—I'd still make the same choice. Because it led me to them."
He looked down. "They're my treasure."
He paused. "Before this, I didn't even have one person I could call my best friend. Now, I can call them all that. I just want to expand that circle, not shrink it. So I'd be happy to have you too."
I hesitated. "But all of you… you're soccer players. It's something you all share. I'd be out of place."
He grinned. "We could teach you."
Then added quickly, "Kidding. Kidding."
"We build our bond outside the field, not just on it. We're serious about football—it's a big part of us. But the emotions, the memories? That's all outside."
He offered a hand, grinning.
"Daniel Carter. Class 1-A."
I shook it.
"Rowan Hale. Class 1-C."
Daniel blinked. "What?! We were in the same group for sports events and never met? That's messed up."
Then he smiled again. "Spend the school trip with me and the guys. No pressure. You can decide later if you want to stay. Just… hang out with us."
I looked at him. Then nodded, just once.
"…Alright."
Just as we were about to leave, a group approached.
Daniel's whole group.
Ethan and Ryan led the way, standing together with their usual ease. Julian and Zach flanked them, and just behind were Sarah, Lena, and Nina. But the one who caught my attention first was Logan—walking with exaggerated, almost theatrical movements, like he was stepping onto a stage.
His voice matched his posture, loud and drawn out for effect. "Where are these guys? I'm literally going to thrash them into next week."
Daniel smirked. "Don't think I'd let you take all the credit. I took them out—single-handedly, by the way. And this guy right here," he gestured at me with his thumb, "is the witness."
In an instant, all their eyes were on me.
I didn't know what to say.
Daniel, of course, didn't give me time to think.
"This guy is Rowan," he continued. "One of the few people James actually admired enough to mention when talking about Crestwood High." He let that sink in before adding, with a devilish grin, "In James' eyes, he probably holds more value than all of us combined."
Then, in an exaggeratedly sinister voice, he added, "So we're taking him as a hostage."
I blinked.
I didn't expect Daniel to joke like that. I hadn't thought of him as the type. But thinking back, he had been more like this during our volleyball game too. Maybe my impression of him was off.
The others' reactions only added to my confusion.
Sarah and Lena were smiling. Ethan, too, had an amused smirk. But the most unexpected reaction came from Logan—who dramatically clutched his chest as if Daniel had wounded him.
"I didn't know our dear Carter boy could joke like this," he wailed, pretending to wipe away tears.
The group burst into laughter. Zach grinned and smacked Logan's back, while Julian grabbed Logan in a headlock.
"Look who's talking," Julian teased. "You're acting like you've gone soft. Don't tell me the trip's messing with your mind." He turned to Zach. "And you—don't think I haven't noticed. You've been in full-on 'study mode' ever since we got here."
Ryan leaned against a railing, arms crossed, looking between me and Daniel. "You know, I think Daniel finally found what he was looking for. He's been searching for someone these past few days, and the culprit is standing right in front of us."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Don't make it sound dramatic."
Ryan smirked. "Oh? So you weren't hunting down some mystery guy?"
Daniel sighed, but there was a lightness in his tone. "We've just had a lot on our plate lately. The trip's giving us a chance to breathe a little."
Ethan crossed his arms. "While we're on the subject—those guys from the ride. They were the ones who picked a fight with you?" He shook his head. "Avoiding us, only to end up against you? That's a new level of stupid."
I shrugged. "They probably saw your matching outfits and assumed you were all together."
Daniel turned to Ethan. "What did happen back there?"
Ethan waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing much. They were trying to cut in line, so we called them out. They backed off pretty quick."
Daniel let out a short laugh. "Ah. So that's what they meant by 'not being able to see their own place because of others.'"
He glanced around. "Where are Adrian and Owen?"
Zach answered, "Rounding up the others to grab food. We should head there too."
Ethan stretched. "Shouldn't we check on those guys first?" He nodded in the direction of the ones Daniel had fought.
Daniel shook his head. "Let's leave it. We've got better things to do."
Just as they started moving, Julian turned to me, grinning. "You sure you wanna hang around this guy?" He nodded toward Daniel. "Once you get pulled in, there's no escape."
Zach chuckled. "Yeah, we're basically a cult at this point."
"Correction," Logan cut in, raising a finger. "We're an exclusive cult."
Lena laughed. "Rowan's already survived this long. I think he can handle it."
Sarah tilted her head at me. "You're quieter than I expected."
"I'm just…" I hesitated, then said honestly, "taking it in."
Nina smiled. "Good. Because this," she gestured at the group, "is just the beginning."
Julian slung an arm around my shoulders like we'd known each other for years. "Well, Rowan," Julian grinned, "welcome to the madness."
And somehow—despite every reason to feel out of place—I didn't.