The Geek Revolution ✓

50 | genuine

THE ENTIRE SCHOOL FEELS THE defeat of our Knights.

Lessons are particularly glum the day after the game, like the whole school is drooping and wallowing in self-pity. It's been a generally negative day so far, with both literal and metaphorical downpours. Delaney and I are walking to the cafeteria for an unpromising lunchtime.

"I gave my choice for next year's Debate Club President this morning."

I ask, "Who?"

"That's irrelevant. I'm going to wait until they prove themselves worthy before I tell them I have faith in them."

"Harsh."

"Effective," Delaney counters.

"Well, I'm sure under your leadership—" I'm cut off by a quick cough from Delaney as she nudges my elbow. She raises her eyebrows first at me, then at someone behind me.

"Remember, it's your plan," she whispers, before patting my shoulder and darting into the cafeteria.

My plan? Confusion washes over me at her sudden departure, but not for long. I barely have time to take a shaky breath before I hear a boy clear his throat, his cologne wafting in the air. I turn.

I try to sound peppy, but my voice sounds monotonous to even my own ears. "Hi, Reece. Here to bite my head off?"

Whatever leeway I'd made with him in AP Bio — sliding him answers on notes whenever he's called on by the teacher, letting him borrow my notebook for the weekend, all of it — collapsed when I briefly encountered him after the game yesterday. He went straight back to his old ways, and my work was erased completely. Or, so I thought.

"I'm sorry for being a bastard yesterday. I was just mad at the failure." It's a shock to hear that: the apology spilling over from his lips. A surge of hope washes over me, a welcome spark of optimism on this sombre, dreary day.

While he continues on to berate his actions and plead for my forgiveness, I chew on my lip to keep from smirking or cheering in victory. It's not that I'm smug about Reece apologising, just so damn grateful that I don't have to start from square one with him. I understand what Delaney meant now. Remember the plan.

I've come to realise that I can't be passive anymore about the Revolution. There's just no time for it anymore. Eagerly, I snatch up the opportunity dangling from Reece's soulful eyes. "What happened yesterday?" I question. "You seemed really distracted."

"I was, but I'm feeling much better today." I know he only came to apologise, but I would much rather have his secret than his apology. So, as he is walking to the wide set of cafeteria doors, I touch his arm softly. He turns back to me, slightly alarmed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, don't worry about it. Enjoy your lunch."

"Okay. Whatever it is, I hope it isn't too serious," I say comfortingly, while my mind stitches some cunning sentences together. "Especially if it's going to mess with your head like yesterday, I'd definitely want it off my chest. Having the whole school depend on me to be on top of my game every round — I don't know how you do it, Reece."

Obviously still affected by his loss, he answers numbly, "Years of practise, I guess."

"Well, I bet you'll do great next time, then. I might even go to the last few games to watch you."

The last caring notes of my voice linger in the air as Reece's eyes darken. I don't know what exactly is on his mind, but if I've managed to plant the idea that venting his feelings to someone will make his next basketball game go more smoothly then I'd call my attempts successful. I just hope his love for sport is enough to convince him to confide in me.