Friday arrived faster than Riven expected.
The day of the Academic Decathlon tryouts.
The day he told himself he wouldn't show up for.
The day he ended up walking into the library anyway.
---
The competition room was quiet, almost too quiet.
Long tables lined with stacks of scratch paper, pens, and neatly arranged test packets filled the space.
Students milled about — the kind of people Riven usually avoided: top of the class, confident, polished.
Eli stood by the door, hands in his pockets.
"You made it," he said, as if it wasn't a surprise.
"I'm just here to… watch," Riven muttered.
Eli gave him a look that said Sure you are.
---
The Interruption
The tryouts had barely started when the library doors slammed open.
Marcus.
And not just Marcus — two of his teammates flanked him like shadows.
The room's easy hum of concentration shattered. Heads turned. Whispers rose.
Marcus's gaze swept the room until it landed on Riven.
"Well, well. Didn't think you'd be here, Castillo."
Riven's jaw tightened. "Then leave. You're obviously not here to take the test."
Marcus grinned, but there was no humor in it.
"Just wanted to see if the rumors were true. That you think you're better than the rest of us now."
Eli stepped in, voice low but sharp.
"Walk away, Marcus. This isn't your stage."
"Oh, it's not?" Marcus said, taking a step closer. "Because last I checked, everyone in this school is still watching."
---
The First Blow — Not Physical
Marcus pulled something from his pocket — a crumpled sheet of paper.
He tossed it onto the table in front of Riven.
It was a photocopy of an old disciplinary report.
Riven recognized it instantly.
A fight from last year. A fight he hadn't started — but one the teachers had pinned on him anyway.
Marcus's voice carried across the room.
"This is who he really is. Everyone's acting like he's some model student now. Don't forget — once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
A few skeptical looks darted Riven's way.
---
The Breaking Point
Riven's hands curled into fists — not because Marcus was wrong about the report, but because he knew exactly what Marcus was doing.
Dragging him back into the box he'd been trying to crawl out of for years.
He stood. Slowly.
Every eye in the room followed the movement.
"You want to talk about the past?" Riven said, voice steady.
"Fine. Yeah, I got into fights. You know why? Because people like you thought they could push me around and I didn't know another way to fight back."
Marcus smirked. "And now you do?"
"Yeah," Riven said. "Now I use this."
He tapped the pen on the table.
"And it scares you that I might actually win at something you can't control."
---
Eli's Move
Before Marcus could respond, Eli stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
"Leave," he said, his voice low enough that only Marcus and Riven could hear. "Or I'll make sure Coach knows exactly why you were in here instead of practice."
Marcus's jaw worked, but something in Eli's stare made him hesitate.
Finally, he stepped back, muttering, "This isn't over."
---
The Test
When Marcus was gone, the room felt different.
Still tense, but no longer suffocating.
Riven sat back down. Picked up the pen.
And for the first time in a long time, he wanted to prove himself — not to Marcus, not to the school, but to himself.
The questions blurred into one another. Math, logic, literature, science.
By the time he looked up, the clock said the tryout was over.
---
Aftermath
Outside the library, Eli fell into step beside him.
"You were amazing in there," he said.
"I was terrified," Riven admitted.
Eli smiled faintly. "That's the thing about bravery. You don't have to feel it for it to count."
They walked in silence for a moment before Eli added,
"Whatever happens with the results… you've already won something bigger."
Riven didn't answer, but for the first time that day, the weight in his chest felt lighter.
---