Chapter 180: A little Bet?
The evening of the bout had finally arrived, and the students of Brinhurst could feel it, an electric buzz in the air that danced along their skin like static.
When was the last time an event like this had happened? Something open, public, and talked about by practically every school from east to west? It had been too long, which was exactly why no one wanted to miss it, whether the rumors were real or not.
Every school, regardless of their side or allegiance, had shown up to witness it.
The location of the event was a familiar place: the Court. It sat just beyond the edge of Brinhurst, nestled beside the sea. A wide track looped around the area, the kind people used for running laps or walking with friends. And in the center of it all was a battered old basketball court, caged in with metal fencing and worn lines that had faded from years of scuffed sneakers.
Normally, it was a place where kids shot hoops or hung around after school, but tonight, it was the stage.
Most of the delinquents from West Brinhurst had already arrived. But rather than cause any trouble or make a scene, they’d chosen to stay on the sidelines, observing in silence. Some had even left shortly after arriving, not wanting to start a mess before things really began.
Students from all over were beginning to surround the outside of the basketball cage, trying to claim the best viewing spots for the upcoming fight. The anticipation was thick enough to taste.
Because it was summertime, even though it was already 6 p.m., the sun still lingered in the sky, bathing everything in a warm golden glow. Each school had brought around eight students, give or take. They didn’t want to risk getting reported for overcrowding, and the leaders had made sure things stayed under control.
Eventually, the students from East Brinhurst started showing up. And not just any students, these were from the Clapton Alliance.
They arrived in coordinated groups, each one moving with the kind of quiet confidence that drew attention. No loud entrances, no shouting. Just nods, short and sharp, toward the other delinquent factions already gathered. There was a silent acknowledgment, a mutual understanding: tonight was important.
Whispers spread like wildfire. Small conversations sparked between groups as eyes scanned the crowd, picking out familiar faces, rivals, and names that had become stories.