“Yeah, keep filming,” he shouted. “Maybe I’ll go viral. Finally get the fame I deserve.” Kyle laughed nervously behind him, but even he sensed the shift. This wasn’t funny anymore. The air felt thick, electric, dangerous.
“You’re trending, bro,” Mason whispered, glancing at his phone. “Already, like, thousands of views.” Troy smirked. “Good. Let everyone see what happens when people disrespect me.” He flipped his middle finger at someone filming and posed like he was in a photo shoot.
He completely ignored the fact that multiple adults were yelling at him and officers were being called left and right. But as the live stream spread, something else began to happen. Something far more devastating than Troy’s inflated ego could comprehend. A notification pinged, then another, then hundreds. Someone had posted a second clip.
It was a clip from two months earlier. A clip that showed Troy Maddox punching a smaller Black boy in the stomach outside the school gym, shoving him into a locker, and laughing while the boy cried for help. Kyle and Mason appeared in that video too, laughing, recording, and cheering. And now that old clip sat right next to the new one.
Two acts of violence. Two Black victims. Two patterns impossible to deny. “Hey, look!” a teenage girl shouted, turning her screen toward the nearest cluster of people. “It’s him. He did this before.”
“What the—?” another voice muttered. “There’s another video.” The crowd leaned in, and the temperature of the atmosphere changed instantly. The first video had made people angry. But this one ignited fury.
“This little monster did it twice.” “So he’s been targeting Black kids.” “And he recorded himself. Stupid.” “My God, this is a pattern.” The murmurs spread like wildfire. Outrage turned into something heavy, collective, united.
Troy didn’t realize what was happening until he noticed several people glaring, not shocked anymore, not confused, but furious. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Kyle whispered. Mason swallowed hard. “Bro, check your notifications.” Troy pulled out his phone with a smirk, ready to read comments praising him, calling him bold, cool, anything to feed his ego.
But what he saw wiped the smile right off his face. “Racist punk.” “He should be arrested.” “This is assault.” “This kid is dangerous.” “Expel him.” “Tag the FBI.” His eyebrows knit together. “What? What the hell is this?”
Then Kyle grabbed Troy’s arm, voice cracking. “Dude, the old video. Someone found the one with Marcus Owens.” Troy froze. “That video isn’t real.” “It is,” Mason whispered. “It’s everywhere now.”
Troy’s heartbeat hammered in his ears. “No, no, no, no. It wasn’t even that bad.” “You put a kid in the hospital,” Kyle hissed. “What do you think people are going to say?” But the crowd didn’t need to say anything. Their stares said enough.
A mother pulled her son closer, shielding him. A man stepped forward like he wanted to confront Troy, but held himself back. A group of teenagers whispered loudly, pointing fingers at him. This wasn’t fun anymore. This wasn’t control. This was exposure.
Troy lifted his chin, trying to hold on to the last fragments of arrogance. “Whatever. People will forget. My dad will fix this.” But even as he said the words, his voice trembled. Not much, not enough for anyone but Kyle and Mason to hear, but it was there.