Payback at Riverside

The Grind

Monday morning hit like a freight train.

I walked across campus with my hood up and headphones in, even though no music was playing. It was easier that way—people couldn't try to talk to me if they thought I couldn't hear them. Not that many people tried. Most just stared.

The whispers followed me everywhere. I caught bits and pieces as I passed groups of students on the quad.

"That's him..."

"Poor guy..."

"Did you see Ashley with Ryan at..."

I kept walking. Eyes forward. Head down. Just get to class.

My first class was Introduction to Business Management, a required course for my major. I slid into my usual seat in the back row just as Professor Williams walked in. The lecture hall was one of those old-school ones with stadium seating, the kind where everyone could see everyone else.

Which meant everyone could see me.

I pulled out my laptop and tried to focus on the lecture. Professor Williams was talking about market disruption and innovation, but the words barely registered. My mind kept replaying Saturday night. Ashley's cold voice. Ryan's smirk. The stares.

"Mr. Carter."

I looked up. Professor Williams was staring at me expectantly. So was everyone else in the class.

"Sorry, what?"

A few people snickered.

"I asked if you could give us an example of a company that successfully disrupted an established market."

My face burned. I hadn't been paying attention at all. "Um... Netflix? They disrupted Blockbuster."

"That's... correct, but we covered that example fifteen minutes ago." Professor Williams frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Fine. Sorry."

He studied me for a moment longer, then moved on. I sank lower in my seat, wanting to disappear.

After class, I headed straight to the library. It was my safe space—quiet, focused, somewhere I could actually think. I had a research paper due next week and a calculus problem set that wasn't going to solve itself.

The library at Riverside was beautiful, all dark wood and high ceilings, with rows of books that smelled like old paper and knowledge. I found my usual spot in the corner of the third floor, as far away from other people as possible.

I'd been working for about an hour when someone sat down across from me.

Tyler.

"Dude, you can't hide forever," he said, dropping his backpack on the table.

"I'm not hiding. I'm studying."

"You're definitely hiding." He pulled out his own laptop. "But that's okay. I'll hide with you."

"Don't you have class?"

"Not until two. Besides, someone needs to make sure you actually eat lunch." He tossed a granola bar at me. "You skipped breakfast."

I caught it. "How do you know?"

"Because I know you. When you're stressed, you forget to eat." He opened his laptop. "Now, are we going to talk about it, or are we going to pretend everything's fine?"

"Option B."

"Works for me."

We sat in silence for a while, both of us working on our own stuff. This was what I appreciated about Tyler—he knew when to push and when to just be there. Right now, I needed the second one.

My phone buzzed. I ignored it.

It buzzed again. And again.

"You gonna check that?" Tyler asked.

I pulled it out reluctantly. Three texts from my mom.

*How was the dance, sweetie?*

*Did Ashley like her corsage?*

*Call me when you get a chance!*

Great. I'd have to tell my parents. My mom had loved Ashley, was always asking about her, talking about how nice it was that I'd found someone. My dad had been more skeptical, but even he'd warmed up to her eventually.

This was going to suck.

"Family?" Tyler guessed, seeing my expression.

"Yeah. Mom wants to know about the gala."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"The truth, I guess. That Ashley dumped me because I'm not rich enough." The words came out more bitter than I intended.

Tyler's jaw tightened. "You know that's not why you're not enough. That's Ashley's problem, not yours."

"Doesn't feel that way."

Before he could respond, my phone rang. My mom. She must have gotten impatient.

I stepped outside the library to take the call.

"Hey, Mom."

"Jake! Finally! I've been waiting to hear about the dance. How did it go? Did you have fun?"

I took a deep breath. "Actually, Mom, Ashley and I broke up."

Silence on the other end. Then: "What? When? What happened?"

"Saturday night. At the gala." I gave her the basic version, leaving out the part about Ryan Mitchell and the public humiliation. No need to worry her with all the details.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." I could hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"I will be." I tried to sound convincing. "It just happened, that's all. I'm still processing."

"Do you want to come home for the weekend? I could make your favorite dinner—"

"No, Mom. I've got too much work. Midterms are coming up."

"Jake—"

"Really, I'm okay. I just need to focus on school right now." That part was true. I couldn't afford to let this affect my grades. My scholarship depended on maintaining a 3.5 GPA, and I was currently sitting at 3.6. Not much room for error.

We talked for a few more minutes before I managed to get off the phone. When I walked back into the library, Tyler was packing up his stuff.

"Come on," he said. "You need a break."

"I just got started."

"You need food. Real food, not a granola bar." He slung his backpack over his shoulder. "We're going to Mario's."

Mario's was a pizza place off campus, the kind with red-checkered tablecloths and a guy who actually tossed the dough in the air. It was cheap, the portions were huge, and it was always packed with students.

We grabbed a booth in the back and ordered a large pepperoni. While we waited, Tyler pulled out his phone.

"Okay, so I've been thinking," he said.

"Dangerous."

"Shut up and listen." He grinned. "You need a project. Something to focus on besides Ashley and school."

"I have plenty to focus on. I work two jobs, remember?"

"That's not what I mean." He leaned forward. "I mean something for you. Something that's yours."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. What have you always wanted to do?"

I thought about it. There was one thing I'd been playing around with for months, a coding project I'd started over the summer but never finished. An app idea.

"There's this thing I've been working on," I said slowly. "It's probably stupid."

"Tell me anyway."

"It's an app. For students. To help with time management and productivity." I'd gotten the idea from watching how disorganized everyone at Riverside was, despite being supposedly smart. "It would sync with your class schedule, track your assignments, and use an algorithm to suggest the best times to study based on when you're most productive."

Tyler's eyes lit up. "Dude. That's actually not stupid. That's really not stupid."

"It's just an idea. I don't know if I could actually build it."

"Why not? You're a computer science major. You know how to code."

"Yeah, but building an actual app that people would use? That's different. That takes time, money, resources—"

"Excuses." Tyler pointed at me. "You know what your problem is? You think too small. You're always worried about what you can't do instead of what you can do."

The pizza arrived, and we both grabbed slices. It was good—crispy crust, generous toppings, exactly what I needed.

"Seriously though," Tyler continued with his mouth full. "Think about it. You spend the next few months building this app. You launch it. It takes off. Suddenly you're not just the scholarship kid—you're the guy who built something."

"And if it doesn't take off?"

"Then at least you tried. At least you did something instead of just feeling sorry for yourself."

He wasn't wrong. Sitting around being miserable about Ashley wasn't going to change anything. But actually doing something, creating something—that could.

"I'd need to dedicate real time to it," I said, thinking out loud. "At least ten hours a week, probably more."

"So cut back on one of your jobs."

"I need the money."

"Do you though? You've got a scholarship. You live in the dorms. How much do you really need?"

I did the math in my head. My scholarship covered tuition and housing. My jobs covered food, books, and emergencies. If I cut back to one job, I'd be tight, but I could probably make it work. Especially if I was careful.

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Maybe yes or maybe no?"

"Maybe yes."

Tyler grinned. "That's what I'm talking about. When do you start?"

"I don't know. I'd have to plan it out, figure out what features to include, design the interface—"

"Start tonight. Right now. As soon as we're done eating." He grabbed another slice. "Strike while the iron's hot, my man."

We finished the pizza and headed back to campus. Tyler had class, but I went straight to the computer lab in the engineering building. It was open 24/7, filled with top-of-the-line equipment that students could use for projects.

I claimed a workstation in the corner and pulled up my old code from the summer. It was rough, barely functional, but it was a start. I could work with this.

For the first time since Saturday night, I felt something other than anger or hurt. I felt focused. Purposeful.

Hours passed. I barely noticed. I was in the zone, my fingers flying across the keyboard, building and rebuilding, testing and debugging. The app was taking shape in my mind—clean interface, simple navigation, powerful features.

By the time I looked up, it was almost midnight. The lab was nearly empty except for a few other students working on their own projects.

My phone had several missed texts from Tyler.

*How's it going?*

*Don't forget to eat dinner.*

*I'm guessing you forgot to eat dinner.*

I smiled and texted back: *Still working. This is actually coming together.*

His response was immediate: *Told you. You're going to kill this.*

I stayed another hour, then finally called it quits. My brain was fried, but in a good way. On the walk back to the dorms, I felt lighter than I had in days.

The campus was quiet at this time of night. Just a few students here and there, walking back from the library or parties. I kept my headphones in, actually listening to music this time.

As I passed the student center, I saw them. Ashley and Ryan, sitting on one of the benches outside. They were close, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest. They looked happy. Perfect.

Something twisted in my chest, but it wasn't as sharp as before. It still hurt, but it was different now. More like fuel than pain.

I kept walking.

Tyler was right. Living well might not be the best revenge. But winning definitely was.

And I was just getting started.