Episode 2: the invitation to the static
1526 Words
The lecture ended the way most things ended at Hartwell.
Not with closure. With movement.
Professor Brenner closed his laptop like he was shutting a door on us. Someone in the front row stood before he even finished his final sentence. Chairs scraped. Backpacks zipped. The room filled up with voices again, the kind of casual noise people make when nothing in their life feels like a secret.
I stayed seated.
Not because I wanted to, but because I needed one extra second to feel normal again.
Theo Langford was still in the third row, far right. Hoodie up. Glasses low. His tablet glowing like it didn’t know class was over.
And he was still looking at me.
Not a quick glance. Not a mistake.
Looking.
I shifted my bag in my lap slowly, testing whether he would flinch, whether he would remember himself and look away. He didn’t. His fingers had stopped moving on the screen. His posture was too still, like his body had paused to keep his face from giving him away.
I told myself it wasn’t about me. He could be staring past me. He could be zoning out. People did that sometimes.
Then I moved again.
His eyes followed.
Tasha leaned forward from behind me, voice low enough to keep private but not low enough to pretend she wasn’t enjoying this.
“That boy is still staring,” she whispered.
I didn’t look back at her. “He’s not.”
“Yes, he is,” Zara murmured, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “And it’s not small.”
I finally closed my laptop. The click sounded louder than it should have.
Theo blinked once, like the sound snapped him back into himself.
His gaze dropped to his tablet so fast it looked like it hurt. He pulled the hoodie tighter. His shoulders tucked in. The same disappearing act as before, like if he folded himself small enough the room would forget he existed.
I stood and slid my bag onto my shoulder.
That was when Jay appeared at the edge of the aisle, leaning against a desk like he’d been waiting for the moment to start.
Jay didn’t look at me first.
He looked at Theo.
Then he looked at me.
Then he smiled, slow and satisfied, like he’d just found a new game.
“Well,” he said. “That was new.”
I walked past him. “Move.”
Jay stepped aside, still smiling. “I’ve been telling people he’s a ghost.”
Zara fell in beside me. Tasha followed, phone already in her hand like she was collecting evidence for later.
We spilled out into the hallway with everyone else. The air changed immediately, warmer, louder, full of perfume and cologne and the faint smell of coffee that never quite left the building.
Jay stayed close, not touching, but present in that way that made people notice.
“He watched you the whole time,” Jay said casually, as if he was talking about the weather.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. “Jay, you watch everybody.”
“True,” he admitted. “But I don’t watch like that.”
Zara made a small sound, amused. “He looked like he forgot where he was.”
Tasha nodded. “That’s what makes it funny. He didn’t even know how to stop.”
I turned my head slightly. “Can you both calm down?”
Zara didn’t. “Amara, that boy was locked in.”
Jay chuckled. “She knows.”
We reached the stone steps that led down to the quad. The grass outside still held rain. The brick paths looked too clean, like the school hired people to erase evidence of student life every morning.
Jay stopped at the top step and leaned on the railing.
“Ten dollars,” he said.
I looked at him. “For what?”
He pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and snapped it once between his fingers, crisp enough to be annoying.
“Ten dollars says you can’t get him to come tonight,” Jay said.
Zara’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh, this one is wicked.”
“Come where?” I asked, like I didn’t already know.
“My place,” Jay said. “It’s not just any party. Malik’s crowd is coming. Seniors too. The kind of night people talk about for weeks.”
The name landed softly, but it landed.
Malik.
Not a jump scare. More like a shadow crossing a wall.
Tasha watched my face. Zara watched my posture. Jay watched everything.
“You don’t have to act like it doesn’t matter,” Zara said, quieter now.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t.”
Jay tilted his head. “Even better. If you don’t care, it should be easy.”
“Why Theo?” I asked.
Jay smiled like he’d been waiting for that. “Because he won’t come for me. He won’t come for anybody.”
Zara added, “But he might come if you ask.”
Tasha’s voice cut in, practical. “And if he does come, you’re going to have to stay close. That party is not built for quiet people.”
Jay nodded. “Exactly. Ten dollars says you can’t do it.”
I stared at the bill for a second.
It wasn’t the money.
It was the fact that Jay thought I would back down.
I took it and tucked it into my pocket, like it was already mine.
“Fine,” I said. “Don’t beg me for your money later.”
Jay laughed, satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.”
The hostel smelled like heat and cocoa butter and somebody’s attempt at fried noodles.
Zara was already on the floor with her makeup out, music low but present, the kind of beat that made the room feel like a backstage area.
“You’re really doing it,” she said, like she couldn’t believe I’d agreed.
“I’m proving a point,” I replied.
Zara smiled. “Same thing.”
Tasha leaned against the doorframe, scrolling. “Just don’t be cruel about it.”
I looked at her. “Cruel how?”
Tasha lifted a shoulder. “Like he’s entertainment.”
Zara waved her off. “He’ll be fine. Amara just needs him to show up.”
That was the truth, and we all heard it.
Zara stood and adjusted one of my braids with the seriousness of someone preparing armor.
“Don’t overthink it,” she said. “Ask him like you’d ask someone to pass you a pen. Like it doesn’t matter.”
I nodded once.
That part I could do.
The computer lab was cold in a way that didn’t care about comfort.
It was meant for machines, not people. The air smelled like metal and recycled breath and something faintly electrical.
Theo was in the back corner again, exactly where someone like him would choose. Hoodie up. Screen bright. Focus tight enough to make the room feel quieter than it was.
A guy sat next to him, chair tilted back, feet hooked around the base like he was claiming the space for the both of them.
Jonathan.
He noticed me first.
His eyes flicked to Theo like a warning, then back to me.
Theo looked up a second later.
He froze.
Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else in the room would notice.
But I noticed.
His fingers stopped. His throat moved like he swallowed something he didn’t want to swallow. His eyes flicked over my face once, quick and unsure, then held.
I kept my expression easy.
Like this wasn’t a big deal.
Like I hadn’t just taken a bet on his presence.
“Hey,” I said.
His voice came out low. “Hi.”
Jonathan didn’t speak, but his eyebrows rose slightly, like he was watching a glitch happen in real time.
“There’s a party tonight,” I said, still casual. “At Jay’s.”
Theo hesitated. “I don’t really go to those.”
“I know,” I said. “You don’t have to stay.”
Silence.
Jonathan leaned forward slightly, like he was about to interfere.
I didn’t look at him.
“Just show up,” I added. “Back patio. Ten o’clock. There’s a palm tree in the corner. You’ll see me.”
Theo stared at me, like he was trying to find the trick in the sentence.
Then he nodded, once.
“Okay,” he said.
Jonathan’s chair came down flat on all fours with a quiet thud.
Theo didn’t look at him.
I smiled, small and satisfied, like I’d just won something that didn’t matter.
Then I turned and walked out before it could become a conversation.
Outside, the air felt warmer than it should have.
The ten-dollar bill sat in my pocket like a secret.
I told myself it was only a bet.
I told myself I didn’t care.
But Theo Langford had just agreed to show up somewhere he didn’t belong, because I asked.
And that was going to cost somebody something.
- Writer
