The early morning mist clung to the manicured lawns of Fair Oaks High on this crisp Friday morning, the dew glistening on perfectly trimmed hedges that lined the redbrick buildings. The campus was quiet, almost peaceful – a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me.
I wasn't supposed to be here this early. Coach would be pissed if he knew I was skipping morning run through Franklin Park, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. My fingers traced the outline of my phone in my pocket, tempted to check it again when...
A car door slammed in the distance, breaking the silence. I straightened, my muscles tensing instinctively. Years of football had honed my body into a weapon, always ready for action. But it wasn't just physical threats I was prepared for anymore.
"What are you doing here?" A soft but accusatory voice spoke from behind me.
I turned, and there she was.
Sasha. Her arms were full of posters, an Iced coffee precariously balanced in one hand.
She looked... different. Her thick-framed glasses were too large for her face, and that nose ring definitely violated dress code. But it was her hair that caught my attention – a mess of pink and brown, like she couldn't decide which version of herself to be.
For a moment, I saw a flash of the girl I used to know. The one with the shy smile and the quiet laugh. The one who used to share her lunch with me when Dad forgot to give me money. But that girl was gone, replaced by this...whatever she was now.
She didn't fit in at Fair Oaks. Not with the people who mattered, anyway.
I leaned in close, my mouth near her ear. "I thought I told you to never come back here-"
She froze, and I felt a familiar surge of satisfaction. Was that fear in her eyes? Good. She should be afraid. After what she did...
"Youuu kno-ow wh-at?" she started, her voice betraying her with a stutter.
I smiled, knowing I had caused it. This was the Sasha I remembered – weak, easily intimidated. But then something shifted.
A soft huff left her shiny lips. "I don't have time for you, Kingston," she said, her shoulders straightening as she spoke.
The change threw me off balance. Where was the girl who used to cower at my words?
"What are you doing with those posters?"
I caught a glimpse of the word 'vote' at the bottom. My stomach clenched. Maddy, Sasha's only friend, was running against me for student council president. But she had no chance. The election was a popularity contest, and I was certain to win.
Wasn't I?
Sasha puffed out her chest and tried to stomp off, but I wasn't letting her go that easily. I jogged after her, my cleats clicking against the pavement.
"What's on the poster?"
She spun around, fire in her eyes. "Don't you have some weights to pick up and put down or something?"
I huffed. "Lame."
"Leave me alone, Kingston."
She stopped at the building facing the football field, dropping her load on the ground. The field stretched out behind her, the freshly painted white lines a stark contrast to the deep green of the grass.
"Tell me what you're doing, and I'll be gone." It was a lie. I enjoyed this too much – seeing her face turn pink with frustration, feeling the power I held over her. It was addictive, this control. Maybe that's why Dad...
No. I shook the thought away.
"Well, if you're going to continue to annoy me, you can help me post these."
She tried to hand me a poster, but I slapped it away. "No fucking way. If it's about the election, you can toss them in the trash."
She grunted, "So you're just going to stand there and watch me?"
I took a few steps back, planting my feet. "Yep."
"Asshole," she muttered, grabbing tape and a poster.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold: "Take a good look at it, football king, because next year is going to be epic. And it's going to be epic with Maddy and I in charge of the entire student body."
She stepped aside, revealing the poster – a photo of her and Maddy with the hashtag 'vote' underneath. They were smiling, arms around each other, looking like they belonged. Like they mattered.
"Get the fuck out of here with that shit," I snarled. "There's no fucking way you can be on the student council."
"Just wait and see," she boasted with a sly grin that revealed a lone dimple on her left cheek.
I stormed up to her, backing her against the wall. She was trapped, like a little doe in headlights. But when she lifted her chin to meet my gaze, I saw something I didn't expect.
Midnight eyes stared up at me, defiant. Her brows wrinkled, and she licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. It was a challenge.
"What the fuck are you planning?" I made sure she could feel the words as I spoke them. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly, but she didn't back down.
"Don't act like you didn't start this," she muttered. "If you would just tell me what I did, we could end whatever this is."
I searched her face, looking for the friend I thought I had all those years ago. But she was gone. I saw nothing but emptiness in her eyes, in her being.
I hated Sasha, and I wished she had stayed away. She wanted to know what she did? The mere fact that she couldn't remember was the knife I didn't see coming
*Five Years Ago*
"Come on, Kingston! We're going to be late!" Sasha's laughter echoed through the empty school hallways as we ran, our backpacks bouncing against our backs.
I grinned, chasing after her. "Slow down, Sash! Not all of us have freakishly long legs!"
She skidded to a stop at the auditorium doors, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "We made it! Come on, let's get good seats."
As we slipped into the darkened room, the principal's voice boomed from the stage. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The results of this year's academic decathlon..."
Sasha squeezed my hand, her eyes shining. "This is it, King. We did it. We're going to nationals!"
I squeezed back, my heart pounding. This was our chance. Our ticket out of this town, away from disapproving parents and suffocating expectations.
"In third place... Fair Oaks High!"
The room erupted in cheers, but Sasha and I sat frozen. Third place. We needed first to qualify for nationals.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, but Sasha was already standing up, pushing past me to get to the aisle.
---
*Present Time*
"Let go of me," she hissed, snapping me back to the present. "What's wrong with you? Didn't your mother teach you manners?"
I dropped my hands like I'd been burned. I felt like a 300-pound defensive end had landed on my chest. Anger boiled up as my eyes landed on hers.
She was the worst type of girl. No, she was the worst type of person.
"Don't you ever mention my mother again," I took a step back and looked at her.
She was nothing.
Another reject I had to get out of Fair Oaks.
"Fuck you, Sasha," I spat. "Fuck your campaign. And stay the fuck out of my sight if you know what's good for you."
She was delusional to think she and Maddy had any shot at winning. I needed this win more. I needed to win so my Dad would get off my back about football. So he'd stop...
No. I couldn't think about that now.
As I watched her climb into her truck, a mixture of emotions churned inside me. Anger, yes, but also confusion. And something else I couldn't quite name.
This wasn't the Sasha I remembered. She was stronger now, more defiant. And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me was intrigued.
But I couldn't let her win. I wouldn't.
As her truck pulled away, I made a silent vow. I would do whatever it took to keep my position, to keep my life on track. Even if it meant destroying the girl I once called friend.
---
I trudged across the now-bustling campus, my mind a whirlwind of memories and plans. Students parted before me like the Red Sea, their whispers following in my wake.
"Did you hear? Kingston's running for president."
"Of course he is. Like anyone else has a chance."
"I heard Maddy's running too. And that weird girl, what's her name?"
"Sasha. Yeah, right. Like they stand a chance against Kingston."
Their words should have bolstered my confidence, but all I felt was a gnawing emptiness. Is this all I was now? The football star? The guaranteed winner?
I pushed through the doors of the locker room, the familiar smell of sweat and deodorant washing over me. Coach was waiting, his arms crossed over his barrel chest.
"Where the hell were you this morning?"
I mumbled an apology, reaching for my gear.
"I don't want to hear it. You're captain, for Christ's sake. You need to set an example."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Coach's disappointment was nothing compared to what waited for me at home.
As I changed, my phone buzzed. A text from Dad.
"Missed practice? Better not be slacking. Remember what's at stake."
My fingers hovered over the keys, a dozen responses flashing through my mind. In the end, I just turned the phone off and shoved it in my bag.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and campaign planning. Emily, my campaign manager (and occasional hookup), cornered me between periods.
"We need to talk strategy," she said, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her clipboard. "Maddy's gaining traction with the theater kids, and there's buzz about Sasha's social media campaign."
I snorted. "Sasha? Please. She's nothing."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "Don't underestimate her, King. People like an underdog."
Her words echoed in my head as I made my way to the parking lot after last period. As I approached my car, I saw a flash of pink and brown.
Sasha was there, leaning against my Jeep like she belonged there. Like no time had passed at all.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice steady.
I felt my walls go up, my fists clenching at my sides. "I have nothing to say to you."
She pushed off the car, taking a step towards me. "Then listen. I don't know what happened between us, Kingston. I don't know why you hate me. But this election? It's bigger than whatever grudge you're holding. It's about making Fair Oaks better for everyone, not just the elite few."
I laughed, but it sounded hollow even to my own ears. "You don't know anything about me, Sasha. You don't know what I need."
"Then tell me," she said, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I was tempted. To spill everything – about Dad, Mom, about the pressure, about the fear that clawed at me every night.
Instead, I pushed past her, unlocking my car. "Fuck off Sasha,"