THE CAPTAIN’S GHOST

The December wind in Manhattan didn’t just bite; it sliced right through you.

I pulled my oversized, thrifted wool coat tighter around my shoulders as the 7 train moved violently over the tracks. My breath fogged up the dirty glass of the subway car, obscuring the view of the gray city outside. Around me, people were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, smelling like wet umbrellas, melting snow, and stale morning coffee. It was the typical, exhausting New York winter rush.

I didn’t look at any of them. I was too busy staring at the cracked screen of my phone, tracking my bank account balance.

$42.15.

That number stared back at me like an insult. Forty-two dollars had to last me two full weeks. Rent for our tiny, drafty apartment in Queens was due in exactly three days, and my mom was already working brutal double shifts at the diner to keep the lights on. We were drowning, and we both knew it.

The train finally came to a stop at Grand Central. I shoved my phone into my pocket, pushed through the sea of heavy winter coats, and hurried up the stairs into the cold air.

Ten minutes later, I was walking past the towering iron gates of St. Jude’s Academy.

St. Jude’s looked like a gothic castle dropped right into the middle of the Upper East Side. It had massive stone archways, ivy covered in white frost, and students who wore designer boots and carried five-hundred-dollar leather backpacks. I was a scholarship kid here. To the people walking these halls, I was invisible. A ghost in a faded jacket just trying to get perfect grades so I could escape to a top-tier college and never look back.

I walked up the stone steps, pulling out my phone to turn it on silent before homeroom.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a unique, sharp alert. It wasn’t a text message or a social media notification. It was a ping from GhostGrad, the encrypted, completely anonymous app where I ran my secret side hustle.

Under the digital alias "V," I was an academic savior. Rich, lazy students paid me insane amounts of money to write their outlines, tutor them through hidden chats, and fix their failing grades. I kept my identity completely sealed. No names. No faces. Just cash.

I tapped the flashing red notification.

URGENT REQUEST

Client: User7742 (Verified St. Jude's Student)

Task: AP History Thesis Outline & Source List

Deadline: Midnight Tonight

Bounty: $300

Note: Need this passed by the athletic board by tomorrow morning or I'm benched for the Friday night game against Brooklyn

Prep. Do not screw this up.

My heart did a quick, heavy flutter against my ribs. Three hundred bucks for a single outline? That was half of our remaining rent.

But I didn’t just see the money. I knew exactly who User7742 was. There was only one athlete at St. Jude’s currently facing a massive academic suspension right before the biggest Friday night hockey rivalry of the year.

Jaxon Montgomery.

He was the captain of the St. Jude’s ice hockey team, which basically made him Manhattan royalty. His billionaire father’s name was literally carved into the stone archway above the school library. On the ice, Jax was a lethal, fast-moving god. In the school hallways, he was arrogant, untouchable, and completely reckless. He skipped classes, flouted the rules, and acted as if the world owed him a favor.

And right now, his entire hockey season was resting entirely in my hands.

I smirked, leaning against a cold stone pillar near the main courtyard. If Jaxon Montgomery wanted his corporate funded, privileged life saved, he was going to have to pay the "V" tax. I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

I tapped the screen and typed a quick, blunt reply.

V: A midnight deadline for a full AP history thesis? That’s not a regular job. That’s a miracle. If you want me to stay up all night fixing your laziness so you can play with your little hockey stick on Friday, the price is $500. Take it or leave it.

I hit send, feeling a rush of pure adrenaline.

The courtyard was buzzing with students chatting before the morning bell. I looked across the cobblestones and spotted him instantly. Jax was standing near the frozen water fountain, surrounded by his teammates. He wore his black and gold St. Jude’s varsity hockey jacket, his dark hair messy from the wind. He was laughing at something a friend said, looking completely relaxed and secure in his universe.

Then, his phone buzzed in his gloved hand.

I watched closely from afar. Jax pulled out his phone, his confident smile fading instantly as he read my message. Even from thirty feet away, I could see his jaw tighten. His eyes flared with genuine shock. Nobody spoke to Jaxon Montgomery like that. Nobody told him no, and certainly nobody called his beloved sport a "little hockey stick."

He furiously typed a response. A second later, my phone buzzed.

User7742: Are you out of your mind? $500 for an outline? You’re robbing me.

I didn’t hesitate. I wanted him to sweat.

V: I’m buying your captaincy back for you. You have 60 seconds to accept, or delete the request, and you can enjoy watching Friday's game from the bench.

I counted down in my head, watching his shadow on the concrete. Five. Four. Three...

Ding.

System Notification: User7742 has accepted the terms. $500 has been deposited into your secure escrow account. Funds will release upon delivery.

I smiled, a weight lifting off my chest. Rent was officially covered.

Across the courtyard, Jax shoved his phone back into his pocket, looking visibly irritated. He muttered something angry to his friends, running a hand through his hair as he turned toward the main building.

He walked straight in my direction.

My breath caught for a split second. I adjusted my heavy backpack, keeping my face completely blank as he approached. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and smelled like expensive cologne and winter air.

As he walked past the stone pillar, his dark eyes brushed right over me. There was absolutely no recognition. No interest. To him, I was just another nameless face in the background of his privileged world. He had no idea that the girl he just looked right through was holding his entire future in her pocket.

I let out a quiet breath, watching his retreating.

Just a business transaction, Avery, I reminded myself. Get the money and get out.

I pulled out my laptop as I walked into the warm hallway, ready to start working on the thesis statement for the boy who didn't even know I existed.