Rise of the Underdogs: (Book 1) COLTON

Chapter 2

Attempting to pay attention while Mr. Cleary droned on about land masses was like trying to meditate during a fire drill. His voice had all the enthusiasm of a dying lawnmower, and the giant map behind him looked like it had been printed before color was invented. I stared blankly at the continents, wondering if I could fake interest long enough to avoid another trip to the office.

Neil leaned over and slid a folded piece of paper across my desk. I opened it, confused, then nearly laughed out loud. We were still passing notes like middle-schoolers, scribbling secrets on crumpled paper instead of using the pack link — which we hadn’t earned the right to access yet. Real mature. Real elite.

I glanced up at Neil, trying to read his expression. He looked calm, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Seriously?” I whispered. “They’re actually boosting the kid to high school already?”

Neil gave a subtle nod. “Dad said Kaden’s too smart for the grade he’s in, so they’re pushing him ahead. What did we expect, though? He’s Dre’s baby brother. Pretty sure Dre guilt-tripped Dad into making it happen.”

Before I could reply, a wooden yardstick slammed down across my desk with a crack that echoed through the room. I jolted, nearly launching my pencil into orbit. Mr. Cleary stood over me, squinting like I was the sole reason his teaching career had gone off the rails.

“Is there something wrong that’s keeping you from paying attention, Mr. Brake?”

I blinked up at him, innocent as a lamb. “No, Sir. I was just asking Neil for a loan.”

A few kids snorted behind me, trying to stifle their laughter. Mr. Cleary’s frown deepened.

“And what, pray tell, would you need a loan for at this time of day?”

“To pay attention, Sir,” I said, layering my voice with as much angelic sincerity as I could muster.

That did it. Laughter broke out behind me like a chain reaction, rippling through the classroom in waves. Mr. Cleary, however, was not amused. His face dropped, and whatever trace of humor he might’ve had vanished like smoke.

“That’s three for three today, Mr. Brake.”

Beside me, Neil snickered. He was trying way too hard not to laugh and failing miserably. I shot him a look, but he just shrugged, clearly enjoying the show. Lovely friends I’ve got — perfectly insane, high-voltage, gonad-less little traitors who wouldn’t hesitate to chuck me under the nearest moving bus if it meant entertainment.

“Three for three?” I asked, already packing up my stuff like a seasoned veteran. “But this is the first time you’ve sent me to the office today.”

Mr. Cleary didn’t respond. His glare was doing all the talking.

“Geesh,” I added, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Did you lose your sense of humor when you became a teacher, or did marriage suck it out of you?”

He was married.

And I was already on his personal torment list.

That’s fine with me. I’ve survived worse. Besides, Neil would hand over the missed work later — assuming it didn’t vanish into the black hole he calls a backpack.

“Get out of my class!”

Yup. Nerve: officially struck.

When I say the entire classroom exploded, I mean it. Not just a few chuckles or polite giggles — I’m talking full-blown chaos. A couple of students actually hit the floor, clutching their sides like I’d just won Stand-Up Comic of the Year. Laughter echoed off the walls, desks rattled, and even the quiet kids in the back couldn’t hold it together. You’d think I’d set off fireworks or released a pack of gremlins.

I loved the sight of it — the sound, the energy, the way the tension cracked open into something wild and free. But I also knew that the longer I lingered, the worse it was going to get. Mr. Cleary’s face had already gone from mildly annoyed to full-on volcanic, and I wasn’t about to stick around for the eruption.

Boy, did I ever land in trouble that day.

Not only did I manage to tick off nearly every adult I crossed paths with — teachers, hall monitors, even the janitor gave me a side-eye — but I somehow managed to piss off my best friend too. By the time the final bell rang, the only person still talking to me was one of the few Black kids at our school — Kaden.

Ah, Kaden. His humor’s on par with mine, sharp and fast, but there’s something else about him. I swear he knows things the rest of us don’t. Secrets. Pack stuff. Druid stuff. Stuff like where his brother actually disappeared to. I mean, come on — is Druid bootcamp even a real thing?

“You’re yanking my chain?” I asked as we walked toward his house, kicking loose gravel along the sidewalk.

Kaden shrugged, casual as ever. “That’s kinda hard, considering you’re not even wearing a collar.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “That’s it! You’re done!”

He yelped and scrambled over the fence, just slipping out of reach. I lunged, missed, and watched him hit the grass laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. His whole body shook with it, and I could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

I vaulted the fence and pounced, tickling him like a man on a mission. I knew every weak spot — ribs, neck, behind the knees — and I went in with no mercy. The louder he shrieked, the more determined I became.

“Liars don’t get mercy!” I snickered, fingers flying while he twisted and gasped for air.

“Seriously, Colt, let me up,” he choked between laughs. “I gotta pee, man!”

That sparked a memory — something Dreson once told me that was both gross and weirdly practical.

“c**k your leg and piss on a bush, brat.”

I hopped off and helped him up, both of us breathless and grinning. We headed inside like nothing had happened, the way we always did — like chaos was just part of the routine.

As usual, I walked in like I paid rent. “Hello, my second mother. How are you today?”

Cecelia was already in motion, doing her kitchen multitask dance. She moved like a storm with purpose — stirring something on the stove, flipping through a recipe book, and wiping down the counter all at once.

“Oh, you know,” she said with a sigh, “missing my oldest like crazy. Dreson’s off doing training and testing at the Sage Tower.”

Kaden stuck out his tongue at me. “Told you I wasn’t lying, stupid.”

“Hey, now,” I grinned as Cece gave us her patented Mom Frown — the one that could stop a grown Alpha in his tracks. “I’m the group’s walking garbage disposal, and I’m smarter than the average Wolf.”

“That doesn’t take much,” Kaden shot back, already tearing through the house and out the back door like he was being chased by a pack of rabid squirrels.

I bolted after him, laughing like a lunatic. For an eleven-year-old, that kid was damn fast.