Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 64

The game was in its final stretch, the score neck and neck, and the atmosphere in the gym was electric. Marguerite’s eyes were fixed on the slender, brooding boy on the court. She quickly noticed that while he looked thin, his body packed an explosive power. Every time he exerted himself, the muscles in his arms became clearly defined—not the kind built in a gym, but the wiry strength that was brutally effective when it counted.

Time and again, he snatched the ball from an opponent’s grasp.

His shooting was uncannily accurate, sinking several perfect three-pointers. When he jumped, his bangs would fly up, revealing eyes as sharp as a leopard’s, filled with a ferocity that seemed out of place for someone his age.

Naturally, both schools had their cheering sections.

The Pinecrest High students were roaring, “Go, Joseph, go! You got this! Go!”

A sizable contingent from Westside High had also shown up, and they were easy to spot. Their hair was a chaotic rainbow of colors, a true punk-rock spectacle. Marguerite even saw a couple of guys with green hair. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she wished them luck.

Their cheers had a certain raw power.

“Aaron, kick their asses! Let’s gooo! Fuck ‘em up! Go, go, go!”

Hearing the name “Aaron,” Marguerite was now absolutely certain. It was him.

The little rascal had dropped his last name but kept his first.

“Is Aaron that guy from Westside High who keeps scoring?” Marguerite asked Cedric, who was yelling with just as much passion beside her, hoping for confirmation.

Cedric didn’t know many of the Westside players, but he knew this one.

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s the captain of their team and the most problematic student at their school. He’s always getting into fights. I heard he even knocked out two of the principal’s teeth.”

Marguerite’s eyes widened in shock. “What? And he didn’t get expelled?”

Cedric shook his head. “I don’t know the details, but the story made him famous among high schoolers around here. He basically became the kingpin of Westside High.”

Marguerite’s brow furrowed. “So he’s a genuine delinquent.”

Having always attended elite schools and been a model student, this was Marguerite’s first real glimpse into that world. Pinecrest High didn’t have anyone like that; getting in was a filter in itself. Even the most rebellious kids there wouldn’t go that far.

“Pretty much,” Cedric said with a nod. “Pinecrest has finally met its match. I never expected Westside’s basketball team to be this good.”

They were already trailing by six points. With less than five minutes left, a comeback seemed impossible.

Joseph, sprinting across the court, was painfully aware of this too. Basketball was his passion, second only to his studies. At Pinecrest, he dominated in both arenas. To be losing today to some punk from Westside High was infuriating. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenched tight.

The ball was in the punk’s hands again.

Blood rushing to his head, Joseph charged toward him, reaching to steal the ball. But the slender boy dodged with a light leap and sent the ball flying. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc.

Joseph watched the ball go in, fury searing through him. A nine-point gap. It was practically insurmountable now.

Soon, the final whistle blew. The game was over. Pinecrest High had lost to Westside High by seven points, after a last-minute two-pointer from Joseph that made no difference to the outcome.

Frustrated Pinecrest students started throwing their empty drink bottles onto the court.

“Joseph was such a disappointment! He played like crap!”

“He’s always bragging about being a well-rounded student-athlete. Looks like it was all just talk.”

“Westside doesn’t even have a decent court. I can’t believe we lost to them.”

The Pinecrest teachers who had come to watch shook their heads and left, their faces grim.

Stung by the disdainful looks from the crowd, Joseph’s eyes turned red. Veins bulged on his neck and forehead; he wanted nothing more than to beat that punk to a pulp. But he restrained himself. He was a rich kid, a model student. He couldn’t afford to be seen brawling with low-life scum like that.

“Your name is Aaron, right?” Joseph forced a smile, his eyes fixed on him.

Sweat had plastered his long bangs to his forehead, obscuring the boy's sharp features.