Broken Hands

1. Trouble Always

The cafeteria buzzed with life, students in black and green attire sauntered the hall, and there was a steady hum of conversation as students lounged, recovering from the grind of morning classes. Laughter, gossip, and clattering trays filled the air, but the peaceful atmosphere shattered as a group of boys stomped in. Leading them was a chestnut-haired figure, tall and muscular, with almond eyes burning with aggression. His fists clenched, and the crowd parted instinctively, sensing trouble in his wake. He was heading straight into the lion's den.

Judas Robert aka Jud was known for his sharp tongue, cruel pranks, and the power to make anyone crumble under his stare. No one dared challenge him-not when his loyal crew, the so-called P Squad, always had his back. Jud rarely picked fights as he preferred the devastating methods of spreading rumors and ruining reputations, but when he did, he never lost.

But Jud wasn't here to intimidate just anyone. He was gunning for someone specific.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jud's voice cut through the noise like a knife, laced with venom.

"He's done for," a student whispered from the sidelines, eyes wide in anticipation.

"Not with him..." another muttered, shaking their head. They knew better.

Jud stalked toward a lunch table where a lone figure sat, back turned, calmly eating his lunch. His raven-black hair hung just low enough to shadow his eyes as he took small, deliberate bites, entirely uninterested in the drama brewing behind him.

"I'm talking to you, freak!" Jud sneered, stepping inches away from the table. Still no reaction from the boy.

Jud's patience snapped. His hand shot out, fingers ready to grab the boy by the collar. But before he could even touch him, the boy spun around in one fluid motion, lunch tray in hand. There was a loud metallic crack as the tray connected with Jud's face. Blood spurted from his nose as he hit the ground hard with an intense yelp of pain.

The cafeteria erupted in a collective gasp. Phones were whipped out. Cameras flashed. Everyone wanted to capture the moment the school bully got wrecked.

Jud's crew, the so-called P Squad, froze. They had never seen their leader hit the ground like this. They weren't ready for this kind of fight. Too stunned, they took a step back.

Before anyone could react further, a booming voice echoed across the room.

"Grayson Smith! To the principal's office-NOW!" Mr. Peterson, the vice principal, stood in the doorway, his face red with fury. His eyes locked on the raven-haired still standing calmly over Jud's crumpled form, holding a now-bent metal tray.

Grayson didn't flinch. Without so much as a shrug, he tossed the tray on the table, snatched an apple from his lunch, and took a slow bite as he sauntered out of the cafeteria.

As he left, students whispered, laughed, and snapped more photos, already composing their captions for social media.

Jud's down, but Grayson's walking. Joker Vs Vampire.

Mr. Robinson's office smelled like old books and disappointment. The principal, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and glasses that rested precariously on the tip of his nose, stared across his desk at Grayson, who sat slouched in the chair, bouncing his left foot lazily. His face remained an unreadable mask as if he were bored by the entire situation. The principal who was new to Marvin High had come to know that Grayson Smith was a boy like no other but he also knew about the darkness in his eyes.

Next to Grayson, Jud sat rigid, cradling his busted lip, blood smeared across his face. His pride had taken an even bigger hit than his nose.

Mr. Robinson sighed heavily. This wasn't the first time Grayson had been in his office. In fact, Grayson had practically reserved a seat here since the start of the year. He was always doing something new that brought him back to the office and Robinson was getting weary.