The Game Behind the Smile
1082 Words
XAVIER
Everyone in Eastbrook High knows me. Quarterback. Flawless jawline. Walk the halls like I own them. To most, I'm untouchable. Revered. Worshipped. But behind the bedroom door of our massive house on Sycamore Lane, it's just silence. Silence and a shadow that used to be my father.
After Mom died, everything in our house changed. The warmth vanished. The smiles faded. My father, the man who used to cheer the loudest at every game, stopped looking at me like a son. Now, I could win trophies, break records, walk across fire, and the old man wouldn't blink.
"Eat. Sleep. Don't screw up." This is the new parenting style. So yeah, sometimes I fill the house with noise. I invite the guys over. We blast music and act like the world is mine to command. It's easier that way.
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Friday night, the living room is littered with chip bags, soda cans, and my teammates. Parker, Sean, and Jamal lounge on the couch like kings, passing a blunt back and forth. “She still lookin’ at you like that, X?” Sean asks with a snort. “Like a puppy who's about to cry?" I roll my eyes. “I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on," Parker grinned. "The fat girl. The transfer. What's her name, Bea?" "Beatrice," I say flatly "Right. The one Shayla can't stand. Girl's built like a fridge but keeps acting like she's too good to melt." Laughter ripples through the room. I don't laugh with them. "Y'all are messed up," I mutter, tossing a football between his hands.
"Oh, don’t tell me you actually feel bad for her,” Jamal teases. "You gonna be her knight in shining sweats?” More laughter. Parker leans forward, eyes gleaming. "Nah, I got it. Let's make this interesting."
Xavier narrows his eyes. "What?" "A dare. Bet you can't make her fall for you." "Then ghost her," Jamal added. "Or humiliate her at prom. Something classic." I hesitate, a knot tightening in my gut. I'm not like them. Not really. But I also wasn't stupid. I know how fast they could turn on me. How fast everyone can.
I smirk, leaning back on the couch. “You really think it'll be that hard?" Parker grins. "Not with your face, bro. C’mon. Have a little fun." The others whoop in agreement. I don't say yes. I don't say no. I just toss the football again, let it spin in the air, and catch it without looking. Outside, the wind howls through the trees. And inside, something dark shifts into place.
Monday morning comes, I walk into school with my usual stride, headphones slung around my neck, and my shirt loose. I scan the hallway. She's by the lockers. Alone, as usual. Her hood up. Her back slightly hunched like she is trying to fold into herself. Beatrice.
But she hasn't seen me yet. "Now or never, Romeo," Sean's voice echoes in my head from Friday night. I exhale, forcing a crooked smile onto my face. It’s just a game. Just play your part. I stroll over, slow and easy. She looks up when I approach, her eyes narrowing instantly.
"You always sneak up on people like that?" she asks, voice flat. I tilt my head. "Only the ones who pretend not to notice me." Beatrice scoffs, shutting her locker. "I don't have time for this." "Good thing I'm not asking for much." She pauses, unsure. I lean against the lockers beside her, dropping my voice low. "You ever think maybe you're not as invisible as you think?"
Beatrice blinks. "What do you want?" I give her a half-shrug, that perfect, disarming smirk tugging at one corner of my mouth. "Just saying, hey. Can't a guy be friendly?" "Not when he's usually an asshole." I chuckle. Damn, she's sharper than I thought.
"You've got claws," I say, stepping back. "Interesting." Then, before she can respond, I turn, walking away, just like that. Cool. Casual. Like I haven't just dropped a bomb and left her holding the pieces. I glance back, Beatrice stands frozen, staring after me like she can't decide whether to scream, run, or roll her eyes into next week. Mission accomplished. But the smirk on my face fades as I turn the corner. I hate the way my stomach twisted. The way her voice had sounded, tight, tired. Like someone holding the world up with a thread. I remind myself of the dare. Just a game, remember? Don't get soft. But something in me already feels off.
I spend the rest of the day pretending like nothing happened. I Laugh at the right jokes. Give the right nods. Smile for the crowd. But my thoughts keep drifting back to her. To the way her shoulders tensed when she saw me. To the fire in her voice when she tells me off like she wasn't afraid. Like she didn't care it was me.
That is the thing about Beatrice. She doesn't shrink for me, not like the others. And that makes it harder to brush her off as some easy target. I catch glimpses of her between classes. Once in the cafeteria with that girl, Stella, and again by the stairs, holding her books like a shield. She didn't look my way. Didn't have to.
I could feel her thoughts from across the hallway. Confused. Suspicious. Good. Keep her guessing, I tell myself. But the truth is, I'm starting to guess, too. By seventh period, I duck into the locker room, trying to shake off the pressure building behind my eyes. The concrete walls felt colder than usual. Quieter. Like they are listening.
I sit down on the bench, staring at my shoes. This is supposed to be easy. It's just a joke. A dare. Something to laugh about later. Right? A door creaks open. I don't look up. "Yo, X," Parker's voice calls from the hallway. "She took the bait?" I don't answer.
"You gonna reel her in or what?" Parker laughs. "Don't get all sentimental, man. You know she's just a warm-up." I clench my jaw. Waiting until I was sure Parker had walked away. Then I stand slowly, grab my bag, and look at my reflection in the mirror. My own eyes stare back at him. They are cold. Empty.
And then, almost like a whisper against my thoughts, a question slithers through my mind "What if this doesn't end the way you think it will?'
- Writer
