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*Sound Effects*

**Language**

'Thoughts'

"Dialogue"

(Point of View)

A/N: Title at the end!

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Days quickly passed by, today was Monday, two days prior to the tournament finals. For once, I didn't almost nod off in my first period history class due to my excitement. Again, we stood watching another boring documentary about something I couldn't even bother to remember. 

Suddenly, the door opened and a student appeared inside before handing the history teacher a note.

"Javier Morales, you're wanted in the gymnasium" he spoke. Puzzled, I made my way over and grabbed my belongings before heading out.

'Did something happen with Coach Will?' I thought before quickly making my way over. Well as quickly as you could walk since you couldn't run for in the buildings for some reason.

I made my way inside, hearing the rhythmic sound of dribbling and shoes squeaking. I glanced over briefly, catching the figure of a familiar douchebag. Ignoring it I made my way inside to the Coach's office.

Upon entering, I saw the same fat coach that said I wouldn't succeed due to my height. (Image)

"Ah Javier" he said pronouncing my name with a 'J' instead of an 'H'.

"It's Javier" I said correcting his pronunciation.

"That's what I said. Anyway, I've heard about your AAU success" he said looking at me.

"Yea...What about it? I asked, slightly annoyed.

"Well, I may have overlooked you, but we all make mistakes. How about you join my team?" he said.

"I don't-" I said before he cut me off.

"You don't need to give an answer yet, how about we follow up tomorrow?" he said.

"No really, I'm good." I said trying to end the conversation.

"I know you're good why do you think I'm asking you. Like I said tomorrow. Now get out of here I've got some things to do" he said as he hobbled over.

'I'm not coming to school tomorrow' I thought as I made my way out the door.

I quickly exited the office and made my way out the door not looking at the court.

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(1st Person - Coach Carter, 1 week ago)

'Damn it all!' I thought, my frustration boiling over as I slammed my hand onto my desk. The mounting pressure from our sponsors was suffocating. We were consistently losing games, and it was scaring off the scouts. If we didn't turn things around soon, I'd be out of a job.

"Fire me!? After two decades of coaching here?" I fumed silently, the anger coursing through me. The outburst left me feeling lightheaded, so I grabbed a sip of soda to help stabilize my blood sugar.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to devise a plan to salvage this seemingly hopeless team.

However, my perspective underwent a transformation when I started hearing about a particular player I had previously let go, now making it to the AAU finals. It was during this time that I also discovered Isaiah, the player I had initially dismissed as a "problem child," was part of that successful team. Back then, I hadn't bothered to delve into the details of the team or its coach because I could care less.

Nevertheless, despite my initial reservations, I couldn't overlook the potential of having the short Mexican kid join my team. My plan was to place him at point guard, while Trevor could come off the bench. I had made sincere efforts, but it was becoming evident that his parents would need to accept the reality that he lacked potential. I believed that even granting him a spot on the bench was generous enough. While they did provide a generous amount of money, it's still not sufficient to jeopardize my job security.

"I doubt he'll say no," I muttered cynically towards the end of my thoughts. "I mean, this could be his shot at a breakthrough." My sarcasm was evident; I couldn't fathom how this kid genuinely believed he had a chance to make it to the league or play D1. At best, some obscure community college might be his only hope.

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(3rd Person - Present)

As the coach returned to snacking, one of the players noticed the exchange.

"Why is that little beaner here?" he muttered to his friend.

"Who?" his friend responded before glancing over and remarking, "Oh, him? Wasn't he at the tryouts?"

Noticing his friend's uncertainty, he decided to investigate the situation further.

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(1st Person - Javi, Present)

I had no clue what the asshole's problem was, but I wanted nothing to do with that team. Moreover, even if I did, it was evident he couldn't care less about me. I did my best to brush off the encounter and headed back to my classroom to carry on with the day.

Thankfully, the rest of the day proceeded as usual, and I eventually headed home. I remained perplexed about the incident, but I decided not to dwell on it too much, and before I knew it, the day had come to an end.

I seriously contemplated skipping today and staying home altogether, but I resolved to speak directly to the coach and make it crystal clear that I had no intention of joining his team. This time, I would leave no room for misunderstanding.

Much like the previous day, I was expecting someone to arrive early during the first period to discuss matters with Coach. As anticipated, a student entered the classroom and handed a note to the history teacher. I gathered my belongings, intending to make my way over, but the student instructed me to leave them behind. 'That's strange,' I thought but decided not to dwell on it. I proceeded to Coach's office just as I had done the day before, knocking on the door.

Upon entering, I encountered the same Coach. "Look, I don't want to join your team," I began. He looked puzzled and replied, "What are you doing here?" My confusion mirrored his as I responded, "You called me over, right? A student brought a note like yesterday."

"No, I didn't," he said in response. In an instant, like a bolt of lightning, I turned and dashed out the door. "Hey!" he called after me, but I didn't look back; I just kept running.

I reached my classroom, ignoring the commotion I had caused and the reprimands from my history teacher. Inside, I scanned for my gym bag but didn't find it. In a panic, I turned to the guy next to me and shouted, "WHERE IS MY BAG!" He seemed taken aback and replied, "I don't know, man. The student who brought the note came back to take your bag."

Ignoring the chaos I had stirred up, I rushed out of the room and sprinted down the hallway. I heard laughter coming from the restroom located across the hall from my classroom. Without hesitation, I burst into the restroom to find Trevor and two of his friends laughing, peering at an open stall door. I quickly approached to see what was going on. Inside, I discovered my shoes, the ones Coach Will had given me for Christmas, submerged in a toilet filled with urine. My world seemed to come to a standstill, and a rush of emotions flooded me. I felt the profound sadness of losing the shoes that Coach had gifted me, but the most overwhelming emotion was rage.

I ran out the room, ignoring the commotion I had started and the reprimands of my history teacher. Making my way I sprinted looking around, when I heard some laughing coming from the restroom near the hall opposite of my class.

"You shouldn't have tried to take my spot," Trevor sneered. (Image)

In a fit of fury, I tackled him out of the stall. He hit his back on the sink and cried out in pain as he fell to the ground. Driven by anger, I relentlessly struck him over and over again. one of his friends attempted to restrain me, while the other even tried to throw punches at me. I quickly got back on my feet, the pain in my fists barely registering, and fought back with a ferocity honed from numerous fights at the park, even though I wasn't a black belt in a martial arts, I knew how to fight.

In the grip of a blind rage, I continued to unleash my fury upon Trevor's friends, striking them with a relentless barrage of punches. They made feeble attempts to defend themselves, but it was evident that they had never been in a fight before. My adrenaline-fueled assault left them overwhelmed and utterly defenseless. The pain in my hands barely registered as I was consumed by anger and an unyielding resolve.

After incapacitating Trevor's two friends, my focus shifted to Trevor himself, his face marred by a bloody nose. Driven by a fierce determination, I lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. I seized his collar and unleashed a relentless barrage of punches upon him.

"How do you like it now!" I yelled out in a fit of rage. "You pussy, can't even handle a fair fight!" I continued to taunt him mercilessly. Though he attempted to call out for help and pleaded for me to stop, I remained unrelenting, my anger blinding me to his pleas.

Each blow was fueled by my seething anger and overwhelming frustration, a culmination of the humiliation I had endured. Blood stained both his face and my fists as I continued the assault, the sound of a sickening crunch resonating in the air.

Suddenly, the restroom door flew open, and a teacher rushed in, responding to the commotion that had drawn the attention of other students. With a swift and decisive motion, the teacher pulled me away from Trevor, preventing me from inflicting further harm. The rage still coursed through my veins, but I found myself unable to continue the assault in the face of the authority figure's intervention.

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A/N: Title - RAGE

I hope you enjoyed the book thus far! I aimed to make the fight sequence thrilling, and this was my first attempt at such a scene. Please share your thoughts and feedback. Also if you'd like to support please leave a comment/review and drop some stones if you'd like.