Chapter 2: Cracks in the Glass

Jay talked enough for both of them.

He was the kind of guy who filled up a hallway with noise — loud laughs, stupid jokes, slaps on the back.

And somehow, he decided Eli was worth talking to.

Every time they crossed paths, Jay would grin and call out:

“Yo, Eli!”

“Still solving world peace, bro?”

“You blink today or nah?”

Sometimes he’d jog up beside him, nudging him with an elbow like they were already best friends.

Eli barely reacted.

At most, he gave a short nod or a grunt.

Most days, he didn’t even look up.

Jay never seemed to take it personally.

He just kept talking, like he could fill all the silence Eli left behind.

That morning, right before history class, Jay caught up with him again.

“Man, you gotta teach me that whole invisibility thing you got going on,” Jay said, falling into step beside him. “You’re like a ninja or something.”

Eli didn’t answer.

His steps didn’t even slow down.

Jay chuckled under his breath.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Mysterious. One day you’re gonna crack and actually say more than three words to me.”

He slapped Eli lightly on the shoulder and jogged off ahead.

Eli kept walking, backpack slung low, eyes fixed ahead.

The touch burned against his skin like it didn’t belong.

⸻

Jay was loud enough to scare off most trouble when he was around.

But he couldn’t be everywhere.

And Carter knew it.

The hits came when Jay wasn’t watching.

Quick shots. Sharp elbows. Mutters under their breath as Eli passed.

The kind of bullying nobody saw — or maybe nobody cared enough to stop.

It didn’t leave big marks.

Just enough to hurt.

Just enough to build up inside.

Eli carried it all quietly — like lead pressing on his ribs.

⸻

It broke during Mr. Graham’s history class.

Eli sat near the back, notes spread out neatly.

Eyes glazed over as Mr. Graham mumbled about treaties no one cared about.

Two rows ahead, Carter and Logan slouched low, laughing under their breath.

“I bet he’s got a shrine to his textbooks,” Logan whispered, voice carrying just enough.

Carter snorted. “Guy probably kisses his calculator goodnight.”

Another round of quiet laughter rippled across the room.

Jay leaned back in his chair across the aisle, turning slightly toward Eli — probably ready with another joke to lighten it up.

But Eli wasn’t smiling.

He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he slowly slid his hand down into his backpack.

His fingers brushed against cold metal — the heavy steel ruler he’d forgotten at the bottom.

Fitting, somehow.

Without a word, he stood.

The sudden screech of his chair against the floor cut sharply through the low buzz of the classroom.

Heads turned.

Jay sat up straighter, half-grinning, half-curious.

“Yo, Eli, wha—”

Jay started to say — but the words died on his lips.

Eli’s face was blank.

Emotionless.

Dangerous.

Jay froze, mouth still slightly open, watching.

Eli moved like a machine.

No hesitation.

No sound.

The first swing cracked across Carter’s back.

Carter shouted, jolting forward against his desk.

The second hit slammed across his shoulder.

The third across his ribs.

Carter twisted, trying to shield himself, but Eli kept going — sharp, heavy strikes that echoed across the room.

Chaos erupted.

Kids stumbled out of their chairs.

Desks screeched across the floor.

Mr. Graham barked for order, his voice lost under the noise.

And Jay — loud, fast-talking Jay — sat frozen in his seat.

Silent.

Eyes wide.

Watching the quiet kid he’d been trying to pull into the world burn it all down with a ruler in his hand.

Eli didn’t yell.

Didn’t snarl.

He just kept hitting, cold and steady, like every word he never said was coming out through the blows instead.

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