Chapter 5: The Global Broadcast
Leo didn’t look at the crowd anymore. He looked at Chloe. She had realized it first. She saw the red light on the wall—the one that wasn’t supposed to be on unless the Principal was speaking.
“Jax!” she hissed, pulling at his jacket. “Stop! Look at the light!”
But Jax was on a roll. He was drunk on his own perceived power. “You’re nothing, Leo! You’re a g-g-g-glitch in the system!”
Leo reached out and tapped the glass. He pointed up.
Jax looked up. The “ON AIR” sign was pulsing. He looked back at the hallway. The students weren’t laughing anymore. They were looking at their own phones, then up at the speakers in the ceiling, then at Jax with expressions of absolute horror.
The silence that followed Jax’s realization was louder than any scream. He lunged for the door handle, but in his haste to lock Leo in, he’d jammed the external deadbolt. He was trapped on the outside of his own crime, while the whole world listened to the static of his panic.
Chapter 6: The Name
Leo stood up. He walked to the microphone, pulling it close, just like his father used to. He didn’t look like a victim anymore. He looked like the lead in a tragedy that had just turned into a triumph.
He didn’t use the script Jax gave him. He didn’t need it.
“M-M-My name,” Leo started. He paused. He felt the block coming, the familiar wall of air. But he didn’t fight it. He let it sit there. He waited. The whole school waited with him. For the first time in his life, the silence wasn’t a cage—it was respect.
“My n-name… is Leo Vance,” he said, the words finally breaking through, clear and resonant. “And I am not a g-glitch.”
He reached out and clicked the “Global” switch to off.
The aftermath was a blur. The door was eventually opened by a pale, shaking Mr. Henderson. Jax was suspended within the hour, his “golden boy” image shattered beyond repair as the recording of his tirade went viral on the school’s social media. Chloe didn’t follow him when he was led out of the building. She stayed behind, watching Leo from the hallway.
Leo walked out of the studio, through the “Third Party” that parted for him like the Red Sea. No one filmed him this time.
He walked out into the Seattle rain, the cool mist hitting his face. He pulled out his phone and looked at a photo of his father. For the first time in years, the silence in his head didn’t feel empty. It felt like the beginning of a conversation.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is let the world hear exactly who the monsters are—and exactly who you choose to be.
