Chapter 7 Unmasked Energy
1085 Words
Monday morning hit Greenwich High like a meteor.
By 7:30 a.m., the halls were already buzzing with a rare kind of energy—giddy, electric, and entirely focused on one name: Zen Egan.
It was as if the game on Friday had been a dream. But no, it was very real—Zen’s touchdown, his speed, the effortless way he danced across the field like the rules didn’t apply to him. The entire campus had watched the impossible happen in real time, and no one had stopped talking about it since.
Zen’s legend was already alive.
“He didn’t even break a sweat,” someone whispered by the lockers.
“Bro, did you see the eyes? One grey, one blue. It’s giving anime,” someone else breathed.
“I heard he’s Zavier Egan’s brother. And Zachary’s too. That Z-clan is something else.”
“Or maybe he’s not even real. That game was sorcery.”
Rumors multiplied faster than Zen could walk through the school gates. He barely stepped out of Ryan’s Tesla—matte black, sleek as a predator—before phones came out like paparazzi cameras.
Ryan, dressed in an open varsity jacket and designer shades, tossed Zen an amused look. “You sure you don’t wanna just wear a disguise?”
Zen, unfazed, tugged her cap lower and slung her bag over one shoulder. “Let them look.”
Ryan smirked. “At this point, I think they’d pay just to breathe your air.”
As they made their way into the school, heads turned. Not just at Zen—but at the car, the entrance, the aura. Friday had transformed Zen from the mysterious transfer student into the obsession.
It didn’t help that she’d shown up in a soft black hoodie, joggers, and fresh white high-tops—simple, athletic, and somehow still cooler than anything Brian had worn since sophomore year.
But it wasn’t just the look.
It was him—or rather, what everyone thought he was.
A walking question mark with a touchdown to his name and a face like a cover model.
The teachers didn’t know what to do with him. Students barely looked where they were going. Even Skylar, Ryan’s girlfriend, had stared a little too long before catching herself.
Zen said nothing. She didn’t need to. Silence was her superpower.
---
Brian saw everything from the second-floor window.
His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists.
He’d told himself over the weekend it was a fluke.
That Zen had gotten lucky.
But luck didn’t look like that. Luck didn’t move like that. And luck definitely didn’t steal the spotlight from Brian Carter, a legacy and face of the school.
He turned to Jeremy Bardot, who stood behind him sipping a smoothie.
“What is it with this guy?” Brian muttered.
Jeremy, ever the realist, shrugged. “He’s good. Real good. He plays like he’s been doing it forever.”
“I’ve been doing it forever.”
“Yeah, but you’re predictable. Zen’s… something else. Like... a controlled explosion.”
Brian’s gaze narrowed. That didn’t help.
What made it worse was the silence. Zen wasn’t loud, wasn’t cocky. He just existed—mysterious, perfect, untouchable.
And then there was the weird feeling Brian couldn’t shake. A sense that something was off. Not wrong exactly, but not normal either.
Something about Zen unsettled him. The way he moved. The way he didn’t talk unless it was necessary. The way his eyes looked right through people—as if he was studying them, calculating them.
Or hiding something.
Brian hated mysteries that didn’t revolve around him.
---
By lunchtime, the cafeteria was chaos.
Whispers followed Zen from table to table. Half the girls stared like they were in love. Half the guys stared like they wanted to punch him—or be him. No one sat with him except Ryan, Skylar, and a few trusted seniors.
Even Principal Walters had made a cryptic comment during announcements: “Let’s all give a round of applause to our new student… Mr. Egan, for a fantastic game Friday night.”
The school clapped. Loud. Louder than they’d ever clapped for Brian.
Brian didn’t clap at all.
By sixth period, Zen was exhausted from the stares—but not surprised.
It was always like this.
She’d lived her life dodging curiosity, pretending not to notice when people questioned her voice, her strength, her face, her silence. No one ever asked if she was a girl. They just assumed—boy. And she never corrected them.
She didn’t need to. She’d never felt like she owed anyone the truth.
It was her secret. Her power.
And at this school? She needed all the power she could get.
---
It happened after gym.
Zen was on her way to the locker room when Brian stepped into her path.
“You got a second?” he asked, too casually.
Zen didn’t flinch. “Not really.”
Brian blocked her. “Make one.”
Ryan, standing a few feet away, tensed—but Zen waved him off with a look.
Brian crossed his arms. “I don’t like being second.”
Zen raised a brow. “Then get better.”
The silence crackled between them.
Brian stared, eyes stormy. “You think you’re better than me?”
Zen didn’t blink. “I am better than you.”
Brian laughed—but it was sharp, forced. “You’re not even from here. You’ve been at this school for a minute and you already think you own the field?”
“I don’t need to own it,” Zen said, stepping forward. “I just run it.”
Brian’s jaw twitched. “You’re hiding something.”
Zen’s voice dipped. “So are you.”
For a split second, he looked shaken. Then furious.
He stepped closer. “I’ll figure you out.”
Zen met his gaze, cool and calm. “I’d love to see you try.”
---
That night, the whispers grew louder.
“Brian and Zen nearly fought.”
“I heard they’re rivals now.”
“Or maybe… something else?”
“No way, Brian’s not—”
“But did you see the way he looked at him?”
And somewhere, buried under the rumors and teenage drama, the truth pulsed quietly—unknown, unspoken, but dangerously close.
Zen kept her head down, but her guard up.
The game had started.
And she wasn’t just playing to win.
She was playing to survive.
---
- Writer
