From Bullets To Billions-Chapter 19: The Life Of The Bullied

The first classes of the day had started—

And Max was already bored out of his mind. Way more than he remembered school ever being.

Maybe back then, he'd only held on to the good memories. Or maybe now, with everything he knew and had experienced, it was impossible not to see how useless most of this stuff really was.

Every formula, every dated history fact—none of it had helped him in his actual life. And now, sitting in a classroom again, it all felt even more pointless.

Especially for this Max Stern—who had more money at his fingertips than most people would see in a lifetime.

It made all of this feel like a complete waste of time. So instead, Max redirected his focus.

Forget the schoolwork. The only thing I'm going to focus on is figuring out the truth about the real Max Stern.

It's the least I can do for him—for using his body, for taking over his life. If I can understand what happened to him... fix the mess he was stuck in... maybe then I'll know how to move forward. And when I've figured out how to be him... I'll figure out how to bring down the White Tigers too.

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But as the day went on, Max realized something else—

The lessons weren't just boring. They were loud. Because every single class came with a side of chaos. And the worst part? Max and Sam were the only ones consistently getting targeted.

Someone was always whispering their names, chucking stuff at them when the teacher wasn't looking, or shooting them smug grins from across the room.

It was subtle at first—but it was constant. And Max was starting to see just how deep this went.

Throughout the morning, it was nonstop. Multiple attempts were made to trip Max as he moved between classes. Thumbtacks were waiting on his chair more than once. His books kept getting slapped off his desk and stomped on.

It wasn't subtle. It was targeted.

And it was all coming from three people—Ko, and his ever-present shadows: Joe and Mo.

I swear, did those three team up just because their names rhyme? What is this, the bargain-bin version of the Power Rangers? Max thought bitterly.

Out of the trio, though, only Ko's name had shown up on the list.

Still... if these two follow him around like this, there's a chance they're involved in more than just playground bullying.

Eventually, the bell rang after third period—finally signaling the start of lunch. Max stood up, grabbing his bag, and Sam did the same beside him. He was glad Sam was there. It sucked that the guy was being bullied too, but it gave Max someone to mirror—someone who knew how to play this twisted little game.

That was, until Ko strolled in with his two loyal henchmen flanking him.

"Attention, you two!" Ko snapped.

Sam straightened up instantly, and Max followed his lead, jaw tight.

Ko smirked like he owned the room.

"Since someone forgot to greet me properly this morning," he said, eyes on Max, "I think it's time you both got reminded of your place."

His grin widened.

"So for lunch, you're going to be my personal servants. Go to the cafeteria, get our food, and make sure we get the best seats. Got it?"

Fetch their food? Max thought, his jaw tightening. This new generation of punks... they're worse than the delinquents from my time.

"Come on!" Ko barked.

Without warning, he drove his foot into Sam's stomach. The bigger boy doubled over, clutching his gut, and stumbled out of the classroom. Max quickly followed after him.

They rushed down the halls and made it to the cafeteria in decent time, but other students—whose classrooms were closer—had already started lining up.

Max fell into line beside Sam and scanned the scene. Things had definitely changed since he was in school. He watched as students tapped their phones against an NFC reader, got their payments processed, and then picked up trays of food.

"...He didn't give us any money," Max muttered.

Sam sighed. "Of course he didn't."

"That's what he means by punishment. It's not just grabbing food—it's paying for it too."

Max clenched his fists slightly, resisting the urge to turn around and storm back.

"Does he make you—us—do this every day?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Sam glanced at him sideways. "Did you hit your head too hard while you were in the hospital or something?"

He let out a short snort—that weird laugh of his that probably made him a target more than anything else.

"He does it a lot, but not every day. Guess today's one of the 'lucky' ones."

Sam looked down, embarrassed.

"I hate to ask, but... do you mind covering the third tray today? I'll get it next time. I really don't have much allowance left."

They needed five trays in total—two for themselves, and three for Ko and his goons.

As they reached the metal counter, Sam grabbed two trays. He was just about to pull out his phone when Max reached across and tapped his own on the NFC reader.

Twice.

"I got this one. Don't worry about it," Max said casually.

Then, without hesitation, he picked up three more trays and paid again.

Sam froze for a second before quietly setting his phone away.

"...Thank you," he said, voice low as he rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

Max noticed the tears but tried to play it cool.

"Hey, come on," he said, glancing away. "Don't get all emotional on me. I only did it 'cause it's not a big deal. Seriously, don't read into it too much."

Still, even Max could tell it meant something to the guy.

It had been nothing for him, but for Sam? That small act hit hard.

After gathering all five trays of food, they made their way to a table. Back and forth, they set the trays down—three on one side, two on the other.

Not long after, they spotted Ko and his crew walking in. Sam immediately stood up straight beside the table, hands by his side. Max followed his lead, mirroring the posture like it was second nature.

The three of them—Ko, Joe, and Mo—strolled in, laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.

They went straight to the table, grinning the moment they spotted the trays.

Without a word, they sat down and started scarfing down their food like it was some kind of reward.

Max stayed standing—following Sam's lead—watching them eat while their own trays sat untouched.

"Man, I'm still hungry," Ko said, rubbing his stomach. He glanced over at the other side of the table.

"Hey, you don't mind if I eat yours, right?"

He didn't wait for a reply.

Ko was already reaching across, dragging the two untouched trays over to his side.

"But that's—" Sam instinctively reached out, then froze. He stopped himself from saying what he really wanted to.

Instead, he tried a different approach. "If you eat that... what are we supposed to eat? We don't have money to buy more."

His voice cracked a little—not from fear, but frustration. More than anything, Max could tell—Sam didn't want Ko to take the food Max had paid for.

If it had been his own money, Sam might've just let it go. But this... this felt different.

Ko rolled his eyes and smirked.

"What's the problem, piggy? You look like you've already had enough. I'm doing you a favor, honestly."

Sam lowered his head and looked away. Didn't argue. Didn't fight. Just went quiet.

"Damn it!" Ko snapped, tossing his fork down. "Now you've ruined my appetite."

With a single shove, he sent the tray sliding off the table. It clattered to the floor—food splattering across the tiles.

"If you're really that hungry," Ko sneered, "why don't you eat it off the floor like the pig you are?"

He laughed, and so did his two lackeys as they stood up and casually walked out of the cafeteria, their trays half-finished, their mess left behind.

Sam silently dropped to one knee, grabbing a napkin and starting to clean up the spilled food, his face red—not just from embarrassment, but from holding everything in.

Max knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly. "You can have my food."

Sam's eyes widened. "No way. You already paid for all of it. What about you? What are you going to eat?"

Max stood up, his gaze locked on the three walking out of the room.

"Don't worry," he said, brushing off his hands. "I don't think I'll have time to eat."

His voice was calm—too calm.

"Looks like I've got something else to take care of."