The Screenshot
982 Words
Friday should have felt good.
The weekend was only a few hours away.
Most students were excited.
Most students weren’t like me.
I woke up already tired.
Not physically buy emotionally.
The kind of tired that settled deep in your chest and refused to leave.
The kind caused by anonymous messages, unwanted memories, and one very confusing sprinter who kept making my life complicated.
Unfortunately, Blackwater didn’t care about my emotional state.
Classes continued. Assignments continued. Life continued.
By lunch, I was sitting outside the cafeteria scrolling through notes for the sports psychology project.
Or at least pretending to.
The truth was that I had reread the same paragraph seven times.
Without understanding a single word.
“You’re doing it again.”
I looked up.
Kiara dropped into the seat across from me.
“Doing what?”
“The overthinking thing.”
“I don’t overthink.”
She stared, I stared back and neither of us spoke.
Finally, she laughed.
“That was embarrassing.”
I hated her. A little.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.
The sound alone made my stomach tighten.
Unknown Number. Again.
The reaction was instant now. Fear, dread, and anticipation. A horrible combination.
Kiara noticed immediately.
Her expression changed.
“Another one?”
I nodded slowly.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I opened the message.
And everything inside me went cold.
It wasn’t a text.
It was a screenshot.
A very old social media conversation.
My breath caught.
The date was almost a year ago.
Just before the scandal exploded.
I recognized the account names instantly. One belonged to Avery my former best friend.
The other belonged to someone whose username had been partially cropped out.
The conversation itself was short.
But devastating.
Avery: She still doesn’t know.
Unknown User: Good.
Avery: Are you sure this won’t come back on us?
Unknown User: By the time it happens, everyone will blame her anyway.
My hands started shaking.
“No.”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Kiara immediately leaned forward.
“What is it?”
I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe properly.
Because suddenly everything felt different.
For months, I had convinced myself there were no answers.
No proof.
No way to uncover what happened.
Yet this.
This changed everything. Kiara gently took the phone from my hands.
Her eyes widened as she read.
“Oh my God.”
Exactly.
The screenshot wasn’t proof enough, but it was enough to confirm something I’d suspected for a long time.
Someone had planned this, someone had wanted me blamed.
Someone had helped destroy my life.
The realization hit harder than I expected.
Because it transformed the scandal from a tragedy into something worse a betrayal.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur.
I barely heard anything around me.
Students laughed. Talked. Moved through their normal routines.
Meanwhile, my entire world felt tilted.
By the time practice arrived, I was still distracted.
Coach noticed immediately.
Unfortunately.
“Blake.”
I winced.
“Yes, Coach?”
“Are we running today?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Then start acting like it.”
Several athletes laughed. I resisted the urge to disappear.
Practice began shortly afterward.
The familiar rhythm of sprint drills helped.
A little for a while, running pushed everything else aside.
The screenshot. The messages. .The memories. Everything.
Then came relay training.
Which meant lane six, which meant Jace.
He jogged toward me carrying the baton.
One glance was all it took.
“You look terrible.”
I frowned.
“You’re so kind.”
“I’m serious.”
Unfortunately, so was he.
The concern in his voice caught me off guard.
“What happened?”
I immediately looked away.
That was a mistake because Jace noticed naturally.
“You got another message.”
Not a question but a statement.
My silence confirmed it.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then the coach’s whistle interrupted.
“Positions!”
The next hour became a blur of relay exchanges and sprint work.
Every time I thought about the screenshot, my concentration slipped.
Every time my concentration slipped, Jace noticed.
Which I find very annoying.
Eventually, Coach called for a break.
The team scattered.
Some headed toward water coolers.
Others collapsed onto the grass.
I sat alone on the lowest bleacher needing space, air, and some answers.
Footsteps approached.
I already knew who it was.
“You’re making a habit of this.”
I looked up, Jace sat beside me.
The same way he always did.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the track.
The stadium felt unusually quiet, then I surprised myself.
Maybe because I was tired and angry.
Maybe because I simply couldn’t carry everything alone anymore.
I handed him my phone without a word.
Jace looked confused.
Then he read the screenshot.
The change in his expression was immediate.
His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened and he went silent.
Finally, he lowered the phone.
“What is this?”
“My life.”
The answer sounded bitter even to me.
Jace looked back at the screen, then at me then back again.
Like he was trying to fit the pieces together.
“Someone set you up.”
The words landed hard because hearing someone else say it made it real.
For months, everyone had focused on what I supposedly did.
Nobody had asked who benefited, nobody had questioned the story.
Nobody except him.
I swallowed hard.
“Looks that way.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
I laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded impossible.
Jace didn’t laugh or smile.
Didn’t look away.
For the first time, I realized he actually meant it.
And somehow that frightened me more than the screenshot itself.
Because hope was dangerous.
Especially when you had spent so long surviving without it.
- Writer
