Ethan’s Advice, Jake’s Rage
1743 Words
Morning crept into the Carter house like an unwelcome guest. Jake rolled out of bed, eyes burning from the restless night. His father’s words still echoed Don’t call me that right now. It sat on his chest like a weight he couldn’t shift.
Downstairs, Emily was already seated at the kitchen table with her cereal. She looked up at him through her hair, tentative but hopeful.
“You’re up,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Dad left early.”
Jake nodded, not trusting himself to answer. He grabbed an apple from the counter, his eyes falling on Emily’s sketchbook sitting nearby. The drawing she’d shown him the night before—of the Jake she believed in—peeked from under the cover. For a moment it steadied him.
But the steadiness didn’t last.
By the time he was walking toward Lincoln High, the simmering anger had returned. Every stare, every whispered name in the hallway fed it. He kept his head down, fists in his hoodie pockets, but it was there—a storm rolling just under the surface.
--
Ethan’s Steady Hand
He found Ethan leaning against his locker, earbuds dangling around his neck. Ethan’s easy grin faltered the second he caught Jake’s expression.
“Rough night?” Ethan asked.
“You could say that,” Jake muttered.
Ethan gestured for him to follow, and the two slipped out a side door, cutting across the back lot where it was quiet. The autumn air bit at their cheeks.
“Alright,” Ethan said. “Let it out.”
Jake stared at the cracked pavement, jaw tight. “It’s the same crap every day. Everyone waiting for me to screw up. Principal Monroe breathing down my neck. My dad—” He broke off, his throat closing around the word.
Ethan waited, patient as always.
Jake’s hands clenched. “He said… he said don’t call him Dad right now. Like I’m not even his son anymore. Like I’m just some screw-up dragging his name through the mud.”
The words spilled out faster now, years of frustration loosening. “And Mia—she thinks I’m some ticking time bomb too. She looks at me like she’s already decided I’m guilty.”
Ethan rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes thoughtful. “Mia’s… complicated,” he said finally. “She’s been the one holding the team together while you were gone. She doesn’t want to risk losing everything.”
Jake snorted. “Yeah, well, she’s doing a damn good job making me feel like I don’t belong.”
“Look,” Ethan said, leaning on the fence, “people have a right to doubt. But you’ve also got a right to prove them wrong. You’ve changed, man. I can see it. Emily can see it. Eventually Mia will too.”
Jake’s throat ached at the mention of his sister. “Emily deserves better than this,” he said softly.
“She does,” Ethan agreed. “But you’re trying. That matters. Just don’t—”
“What?” Jake snapped.
“Don’t let the anger be what they remember,” Ethan said quietly. “That’s what they’re waiting for. Another explosion. Don’t give it to them.”
Jake looked away, jaw tight. He knew Ethan was right, but the words barely penetrated the haze of frustration building inside him.
--
Rumors and Sparks
Second period passed in a blur. By lunch, the hallway had become a minefield. He could hear them—snippets of whispers, mocking laughs.
“…heard he almost got expelled again…”
“…why’s Coach even letting him near the court…”
He kept walking, shoulders squared. But when a voice behind him said, “Carter’s just a ticking bomb,” he stopped cold.
Tyler.
The rival guard leaned against a locker, arms crossed, smirking. Two of his buddies snickered behind him.
Jake turned slowly. “Say that again.”
Tyler raised his eyebrows innocently. “Just calling it like I see it.”
Jake stepped closer. “You don’t know me.”
“Everyone knows you,” Tyler shot back. “You’re the guy who tanked the season last year. The guy who can’t keep his fists to himself. Coach only took you back ‘cause he’s soft.”
Jake’s hands curled into fists. The world narrowed to Tyler’s smirk, the glint of challenge in his eyes. He could almost hear his father’s voice same boy who let his temper drag this family through the mud.
One swing. That’s all it would take. One swing and Tyler would be on the ground. One swing and Principal Monroe would have his excuse to end this probation.
Then Mia’s voice cut through the fog: We can’t afford to risk everything just to give you another shot.
He forced his fists to unclench.
“Not worth it,” he muttered, and turned away.
But Tyler wasn’t done. “Yeah, walk away, Carter. That’s what losers do.”
Jake spun, grabbing the front of Tyler’s shirt and shoving him hard into the lockers. The clang echoed down the hallway. Tyler’s friends stepped forward, but before it could escalate further, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
“Enough!”
Mia.
She strode toward them, her eyes dark fire, her captain’s badge glinting on her jacket. Students slowed, watching the scene unfold like a movie.
“Carter, let him go.” Her voice was steady, commanding.
Jake froze, breathing hard, every nerve screaming at him to finish what he’d started. But then he saw her—really saw her. Not just the captain, but the girl behind the eyes. And in her eyes he saw fear—not for Tyler, but for him.
He let go. Tyler stumbled back, straightening his shirt, smirking in triumph. “See? Told you he’s a psycho,” Tyler muttered to Mia before retreating with his friends.
Mia turned back to Jake, her jaw tight. “Are you trying to get expelled?”
“No,” Jake snapped. “I’m trying to breathe in a school full of people who want me gone.”
She crossed her arms, but her eyes softened slightly. “Then stop giving them reasons. You’re better than this. Or at least I thought you were.”
The words hit harder than Tyler’s insults.
“Mia—”
But she was already turning away, her braid swinging behind her.
Jake closed his eyes, swallowing the rage. He’d just blown it. Again.
--
Under the Bleachers
He didn’t go to fifth period. Instead he found himself under the empty bleachers behind the gym, sitting with his head in his hands. The smell of dust and old metal clung to the air.
Footsteps approached. He didn’t look up until a familiar voice said, “You’ve got a talent for making scenes.”
He lifted his head. Mia stood there, hands on her hips. But her expression wasn’t as sharp now.
“What do you want?” he muttered.
She hesitated, then sat down a few feet away, pulling her knees up. “To talk,” she said simply.
He glanced at her. “You don’t seem like the type who skips class.”
“I don’t,” she said. “But I figured if I didn’t find you, you’d end up punching a wall or something.”
He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Tempting.”
For a moment they sat in silence, the muffled sound of a ball bouncing in the gym above them.
“You know,” she said finally, “I wasn’t always captain. I had to earn respect. People doubted me too.”
“Not like this,” he muttered.
“Different, yeah. But doubt is doubt.” She tilted her head, watching him. “You’re angry because you care. But caring doesn’t count if you can’t control it.”
He stared at the ground, jaw tight. “I’m trying.”
“I can see that,” she said softly. “But every time you explode, you make it harder for people to believe you’ve changed.”
The gentleness in her tone made him look at her. She wasn’t scolding now. She was… concerned.
“You think I’m hopeless?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes met his. “No. I think you’re dangerous—to yourself. And that scares me.”
Something shifted between them then, a subtle change in the air.
He swallowed hard. “Why do you care?”
“Because…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Because I’ve seen who you are with Emily. Because Ethan still believes in you. Because part of me…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
He leaned closer, heart hammering. “Part of you what?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Part of me wants to believe you can come back from this. That you’re not the guy everyone says you are.”
Their eyes locked, the tension between them electric. For a heartbeat the world narrowed to just the two of them, under the bleachers, the muffled thump of basketballs above their heads.
Jake exhaled slowly, the anger draining from him, replaced by something warmer, more dangerous.
“I’m not that guy,” he said softly. “At least I’m trying not to be.”
She gave a small, sad smile. “Then show me.”
--
Ethan Again
Later, Ethan found him leaning against the bike racks after school. “Heard about Tyler,” Ethan said.
“Yeah.”
“Almost blew it, huh?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I let him get to me.”
“Because you’re human,” Ethan said. “But you’ve gotta channel it.”
Jake glanced at him. “How?”
Ethan grinned faintly. “Start with the gym. Sweat it out. And when the noise gets too loud—remember who you’re doing this for.”
Jake thought of Emily’s drawing. Of Mia’s eyes under the bleachers. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think I know.”
--
Night
That night Jake sat on his bed, Emily’s drawing propped against the lamp. His phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number.
You’re better than Tyler. Don’t prove him right.
No name, but he knew who it was.
He smiled faintly, for the first time all day.
Outside, the wind rattled the window, but inside something steadier was taking root.
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