Chapter 5
1271 Words
Jace Woods
I’ve always known how to disappear in plain sight.
Standing beside Marvin taught me that early. He filled rooms without trying. Took oxygen, attention, loyalty. People bent toward him naturally, like gravity worked differently around my brother.
So I learned to step back.
To listen.
To watch.
And watching Cassey Winfield was becoming a problem.
I noticed it the moment she stopped being a joke. The moment people stopped whispering about her and started watching her. She didn’t change the way she walked or talked. She didn’t get louder. Didn’t soften.
She just… held her ground.
That scared people.
It scared Marvin most of all.
I saw it in the way his jaw tightened every time her name came up in practice. The way he mocked her a little too loudly, a little too often. The way he started needing to win again.
He hated losing control.
And Cass had taken it from him without even touching him.
The activities room felt smaller every afternoon.
Three chairs. One table. Too much history already pressing in. Marvin sprawled like he owned the place. Cass sat upright, organized, focused.
I sat between them.
Neutral ground. Or so I pretended.
“Why is this even necessary?” Marvin snapped one afternoon, kicking the leg of the table. “The rally’s fine. Let someone else handle it.”
Cass didn’t look up from her notes. “You volunteered to be part of this.”
“I was forced.”
She finally met his eyes. “So was I. The difference is I’m not throwing a tantrum.”
I hid my reaction by flipping a page in the budget binder.
Marvin glared at me. “You gonna say something?”
I shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Cass glanced at me, just briefly. Not gratitude. Not surprise. Just acknowledgment.
And somehow, that felt heavier than praise.
I didn’t want to be involved.
That was the lie I kept telling myself.
But every time someone laughed at Cass, something twisted in my chest. Every time Marvin pushed, needled, provoked, I felt the urge to step in. Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Quietly.
The way I always did.
I saw the way Cass clenched her jaw when people whispered behind her back. The way she took a breath before speaking, like she’d learned how to steady herself under pressure.
She was strong.
Stronger than people gave her credit for.
And that made her dangerous.
Practice ran late that Thursday. Marvin was brutal on the ice, aggressive in a way that had nothing to do with the game. He slammed into teammates harder than necessary, barked orders, took shots he shouldn’t have.
Coach noticed.
I noticed more.
“You’re off tonight,” I said as we peeled off our gloves.
Marvin snorted. “You mean she’s in my head.”
I didn’t respond.
That was answer enough.
I found Cass alone later, still in the activities room. Papers spread out, phone balanced between shoulder and ear as she talked logistics with someone from student council.
She didn’t see me at first.
I leaned against the doorframe and waited. Watched the way she gestured when she spoke, precise and controlled. Watched the crease between her brows soften when she laughed quietly at something on the call.
She looked… normal.
Not a target.
Not a problem.
Just a girl doing her job.
When she hung up, she startled slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s an honest one.”
She studied me for a moment, then sighed and went back to stacking papers. “What do you want, Jace?”
I appreciated that she used my name.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just—Marvin’s pushing back on the rally budget. Again.”
She laughed under her breath. “Of course he is.”
“He thinks you’re trying to embarrass him.”
That got her attention. She looked up sharply. “I’m trying to run an event.”
“I know.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Her gaze softened, just a fraction. Not trust. But something close to relief.
“I didn’t ask to be in the middle of you two,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I repeated.
She tilted her head. “Then why are you?”
I didn’t have a good answer.
Because you deserve backup.
Because he’s wrong.
Because watching you stand alone feels wrong.
Instead, I said, “Because someone has to be.”
She didn’t smile. But she didn’t argue either.
Things shifted after that.
Subtle. Quiet. Like pressure building beneath the surface.
Marvin started skipping meetings. Leaving work unfinished. Showing up late. Trying to make Cass look disorganized by association.
It didn’t work.
She adapted. Covered gaps. Took control. And every time she did, people noticed. Teachers. Students. Even Coach, eventually.
Marvin noticed too.
And he snapped.
It happened during lunch.
He cornered Cass near the vending machines, voice low but sharp. “You think you’re untouchable now?”
I was halfway across the room before I realized I was moving.
Cass didn’t back up. Didn’t raise her voice. “I think you don’t get to scare me.”
“You don’t belong here,” he said. “You don’t get to walk around like you won.”
She crossed her arms. “I didn’t win, Marvin. You just stopped controlling me.”
That did it.
“Watch your mouth,” he snapped.
“Watch yours,” I cut in.
They both turned to me.
Marvin’s eyes were wild. “Stay out of it.”
“No,” I said calmly. “You crossed the line.”
Cass looked between us, tension etched into her posture. “I can handle him.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Marvin laughed, harsh and humorless. “Unbelievable. You really picked her.”
I met his gaze. “I picked what’s right.”
For the first time, he didn’t have a comeback.
Later that night, I couldn’t stop replaying it.
The way Cass stood her ground.
The way Marvin looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
Maybe I had.
But for once, the weight of that didn’t crush me.
Because some lines mattered more than blood.
I found Cass again by her car after school. She was unlocking it when she noticed me.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” she said.
“Doing what?”
“Stepping in.”
I leaned against the hood of my car. “I’m not stepping in. I’m standing beside.”
She studied me carefully. “Why?”
The honest answer sat heavy in my chest.
Because you’re not weak.
Because you don’t deserve this.
Because you make him afraid.
Instead, I said, “Because you shouldn’t have to fight alone.”
She didn’t look away this time.
“Careful, Jace,” she said quietly. “Being seen with me isn’t exactly safe.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “Neither is standing behind him.”
For a moment, something electric passed between us. Not romance. Not yet. Something sharper. Mutual recognition.
Then she opened her car door.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“Goodnight, Cass.”
I watched her drive away, chest tight, thoughts loud.
Marvin had started a war.
Cass had changed the rules.
And somewhere along the way, I’d chosen a side.
Whether I was ready for the consequences or not.
- Writer
