The Boy Who Broke The Rules

Chapter 5 - Levi - The Handshake

“The worst choices rarely arrive looking like mistakes. Sometimes they look exactly like the answer you have been praying for.”

The napkin has been in my pocket for three days.

I should have thrown it away the second I left Miller’s Diner. I should have ripped it into pieces, dropped it into the nearest trash can, and forgotten Noah ever wrote Kennedy’s name beside mine.

Instead, I carry it everywhere.

It sits folded behind my student ID during class. It presses against my leg during football meetings. At night, it rests on the chair beside my bed inside the pocket of my jeans, as if a piece of paper can somehow watch me sleep.

I keep telling myself I haven’t made a decision.

But if that’s true, why haven’t I thrown it away?

Professor Whitmore waits until the last student leaves the lecture hall before calling my name.

“Levi.”

I stop beside her desk, already knowing I’m not about to receive good news.

She places my calculus exam facedown between us.

“You’ve improved your effort.”

“That sounds promising.”

“It isn’t.”

I sigh. “Of course not.”

Her expression softens slightly. “Effort and understanding aren’t the same thing. You’re trying, but you’re still missing several foundational concepts.”

I glance at the exam. “How bad is it?”

“If your grade drops any lower, I’ll be required to notify the athletic department.”

There it is. The sentence I’ve been trying not to hear.

Football eligibility isn’t based on effort. Coach doesn’t care how long I stare at a textbook if the final grade beside my name is still failing.

“I’ll fix it,” I say.

“You need consistent tutoring.”

“I’ve been working with my teammates.”

“Having someone copy answers onto a napkin five minutes before class does not qualify as tutoring.”

I almost laugh, but the other napkin in my pocket suddenly feels heavier.

Professor Whitmore folds her hands. “Ask Kennedy Brooks.”

I look up. “Kennedy?”

“She has the highest grade in the course, and she explains difficult material clearly. Sometimes the smartest students aren’t good teachers. Kennedy is both.”

I think about her quiet smile and the way she always looks surprised whenever someone speaks directly to her.

“I’ll ask her.”

“Today,” Professor Whitmore says. “Not next week. Not after your grade becomes a crisis.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As I leave the building, I pull out my phone.

Noah has already texted me.

Noah: Have you decided?

I lock the screen without responding.

A second message appears before I reach the stairs.

Noah: Silence usually means yes.

I shove the phone back into my pocket.

“Calculus steal your lunch money?”

Alex catches up beside me, coffee in one hand and his backpack hanging from one shoulder.

“It stole my GPA.”

He laughs. “You need Kennedy.”

I stop walking. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“She helped me pass statistics last semester.”

“Seriously?”

“She explained probability using chicken wings.”

“How?”

“I don’t remember. I was focused on the chicken.”

Despite myself, I smile.

Alex takes another sip of coffee. “She’s patient. You’ll need that because you’re exhausting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He starts walking again, then glances over his shoulder.

“And don’t bring Kylie to the study sessions.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because Kennedy deserves at least one peaceful afternoon.”

He disappears into the crowd before I can respond.

His words stay with me.So does the memory of Kennedy falling in the mall parking lot.

I hear Kylie’s voice. The laughter from everyone around us. My own laugh joining theirs before I had time to think about what I was doing. Kennedy ran away before I could apologize.

Maybe Alex is right. Maybe she deserves more peaceful afternoons than this campus has given her. She definitely deserves better than becoming somebody’s deal.

When I get home that evening, the kitchen table is covered in envelopes.

Mom gathers them the second she sees me, but she isn’t fast enough. A red notice disappears beneath a grocery-store advertisement.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing important.”

“Mom.”

She gives me the smile she uses whenever she’s trying not to worry me. “Just household things.”

Dad enters through the back door, still wearing his work uniform. He looks more exhausted than usual.

“You’re home early,” I say.

“Machine broke down. They sent us home.”

Mom’s shoulders stiffen. “For how long?”

“They’re hoping two days.”

Two days without pay.

Dad notices me staring at the envelopes. “Don’t worry about any of this.”

“I’m not worried.”

The lie tastes bitter.

Lily and Laila rush into the kitchen wearing matching dance-team shirts. They may be twins, but they’re different in nearly every way. Lily is loud and impulsive. Laila watches everything quietly and usually understands what’s happening before anyone explains it.

“We have news,” Lily announces.

Mom gives them a warning look.

“What news?” I ask.

Laila glances at our parents. “We decided not to travel for regionals.”

My stomach drops.

“You’ve been preparing for that competition all year.”

“It’s expensive,” Lily says. “We can go next season.”

“You were talking about regionals last week.”

“We changed our minds.”

Noah’s words return immediately.

Your sisters gave up their dance competition.

I look from them to my parents. Nobody meets my eyes.

“This is because of my tuition.”

“No,” Mom says quickly.

“Yes, it is.”

Dad pulls out a chair. “Sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Then stand, but listen.”

His voice is calm, which makes everything worse.

“You are not a burden,” he says. “Your education is something we chose to invest in.”

“At their expense?” I point toward my sisters.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Please don’t turn this into some dramatic quarterback speech.”

“I’m not being dramatic.”

“You held a funeral for your football cleats.”

“They carried me through an undefeated season.”

Laila laughs softly, but the guilt remains lodged beneath my ribs.

Mom reaches for my hand. “We’re a family. Sometimes one person needs more support. Later, someone else will.”

“You shouldn’t have to work extra shifts because of me.”

“I would work every shift in the world for you.”

That is exactly the problem. They would give me everything until they had nothing left.

My phone vibrates. I already know who it is.

Noah: The scholarship offer expires Friday. Today is Thursday.

I stare at the message while my family continues talking around me. Full tuition. Five thousand dollars. My sisters get to compete.

Dad stops pretending overtime isn’t destroying him. Mom gets to buy something for herself without checking the price three times.

All I have to do is make Kennedy trust me for reasons she never agreed to. I hate that the choice is beginning to feel less impossible.

Noah is waiting at the football field when I arrive twenty minutes later.

The stadium is empty except for the security lights glowing above the bleachers. He sits in the first row with his hands inside his coat pockets.

“I knew you’d come,” he says.

“Don’t act like you won.”

He stands. “I haven’t.”

I remain several feet away from him.

“Tell me everything.”

His expression sharpens. “About the deal?”

“Yes.”

“You have until the end of spring semester. Get Kennedy to become your girlfriend and tell you she loves you. Once she does, my uncle arranges the scholarship interview and I give you five thousand dollars.”

“You make it sound like you’re buying a used car.”

“It’s just business.”

I hate the sentence immediately.

“She isn’t business.”

“No. She’s the challenge.”

“That’s worse.”

Noah sighs. “Date her. Be kind. Give her a good semester. People break up every day.”

“And if she gets hurt?”

“She’ll move on.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

The stadium lights hum above us. I picture Kennedy in the parking lot with her eyes cast down, apologizing for something that barely happened. She looked like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

“She’s already had enough people make her feel small,” I say.

Noah’s expression changes for half a second.

“Then don’t make her feel small.”

I study him.

“Make her happy.”

The manipulation is smooth enough that I almost respect it.

Almost.

“I have rules.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re negotiating?”

“I’m telling you what I won’t do.”

A slow smile appears. “So you’re accepting?”

“Not yet.”

“Fine. What are the rules?”

“I’m not lying about needing tutoring. That part is real.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t pressure her. If she says she isn’t interested, it ends.”

Noah shrugs. “Fair.”

“I’m not humiliating her. No public reveal, no screenshots, and the team doesn’t find out.”

“What about Alex and Jonah?”

“They don’t need to know.”

“They’ll figure it out.”

“Then you deny it.”

Noah studies me. “Anything else?”

“If I decide to end it, it ends.”

His smile disappears. “That isn’t how deals work.”

“Then find someone else.”

We stare at each other beneath the empty stadium lights.

Finally, Noah extends his hand.

“End of spring semester.”

I look down at it. This is the moment. I know there will be a version of my life before this handshake and another after it. I should walk away. Instead, I see my father’s tired face, my mother hiding bills, and my sisters pretending they no longer want something they’ve worked for all year. I close my hand around Noah’s.

“It’s a deal.”

The words taste like regret.

Noah shakes once and releases me. “You just secured your future.”

No.

I think I may have sold part of it.

He leaves first, disappearing through the stadium gate.

I remain beneath the lights, staring at my hand as if it belongs to somebody else.

Then I take out my phone and open Kennedy’s contact.

I type a message.

Delete it.

Type another.

Delete that too.

Finally, I stop trying to sound clever.

Me: Hey, Kennedy. Are Wednesdays still okay for tutoring?

Her response arrives less than a minute later.

Kennedy: Absolutely! Four o’clock still works. I’ll see you then. 😊

I smile before I remember I’m not supposed to. Somewhere between the scholarship, the handshake, and that little yellow smiley face, I have the sinking feeling that my life has already started changing.

I just don’t know yet that Wednesday will change everything.