Private School Kings

Heavy is the Head Pt. 2

Tim started towards me again, but this time he moved slowly, each step falling like an anvil. I stayed still, holding my stick at my shoulder, but Tim's eyes weren't on the ball. They were on me. The closer he got the faster my heart beat when he was close enough he raised his stick and took a gentle swipe towards the ball. It wasn't a real attempt, but I stepped back anyway and my shoulder blades knocked against the wall. He smiled and pressed his palm against the wall so near to my head that he was almost grazing my ear. This was what he had wanted all along, to corner me.

I stopped breathing, just stared at him.

"Do I intimidate you?" Tim asked, his voice deep and low.

At the moment, the answer was definitely yes. Actually, the answer was probably always yes, and yes was the answer he wanted. That's exactly why I couldn't give it to him.

"Do I intimidate you?" I asked, flipping the question back onto him instead of giving an actual answer.

His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he said, "You're so much better than I thought." In a breathy whisper, like someone caught in a dream.

He brought his other hand up to the wall so I was pinned in by his arms on each side and leaned forward. His face was so close to mine that if I leaned in by even just a fraction of an inch our noses would have been touching.

I gulped before I could think better of showing my nerves. Madeline's voice rang in the back of my mind, if you want Tim to want you you can't give him anything. Not a single thing. And now he definitely wanted something. He wanted me to lean in. He wanted me to press my mouth to his. He wanted my fear, and excitement, and everything else. I wasn't going to give it to him.

In a flash, I gripped my stick with both hands and ducked under his arm, sprinting away and sliding to a stop.

Tim huffed, a rush of air somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. His breath pushed one perfect lock of hair up into the air, but it flopped perfectly back into place.

For maybe an hour after that we played lacrosse. Sometimes it was intense and competitive, sometimes it was light and buoyed by exchanges of wit. It was like here in the gym we were just two people. Two kids really. Tim seemed younger, lighter, like some of the weight had been taken off his shoulders He just seemed kind of like a normal guy, maybe one with a bit of an ego, but also one who was kind of funny and kind of intense and kind of interesting. I actually had to pinch myself a couple of times to remember that all of it was fake.

We weren't just a couple of kids and he wasn't just a normal guy. He was king and I was a liar.

That was just how it was.

Still, lying on top of that carefully painted hawk  with our heads set next to each other I had to work hard to quell the feeling of warmth that rose in my stomach. I had to think of Fletcher, and of Magnus.

"Do you miss Iowa?" Tim asked.

I hesitated, giving him any part of myself felt dangerous, but nobody had asked me that in so long I found myself telling the truth. "Yes. Sometimes."

He let out a grunt and flipped onto his stomach, turning his head so he was looking at me. "I've never been to a public high school before. Like, aside from sports meets and stuff. Usually their fields are shit." He smirks like he expects me to agree, but I don't say anything. Even if he's right it seems wrong to admit it. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like though. Going to one." He says it kind of wistfully, and I feel a little swirl of annoyance. It must be so hard for him, ruling the world, getting away with anything. I wondered what he felt when he found out Magnus was dead. Guilt? I couldn't see Tim feeling guilty, but maybe I couldn't see Tim very well. I'd been looking at him through Fletcher's lens for a long time. Maybe he wanted the lords to end just as much as I did. But he could have left them. He could have dropped the title of king and lived on the outside like Madeline had chosen to do.

Whatever guilt Tim felt or didn't feel it wasn't enough for me to doubt my mission, but it might've been enough to make me feel a little guilt of my own.

We walked back to the dorms in the same silence we'd had on the way to the gym, but this time I noticed something interesting. The further we went the more Tim's face changed. It didn't harden exactly. It was more like it smoothed, like a mask was getting put back into place piece by piece. As I watched, he turned back into that golden boy I saw in the halls and on the field. The one who screamed at girls who were too tall for him and who had watched a boy die.

I wondered if my face changed. I wondered if I turned back into the scholarship girl with the messed up family and the shitty phone. I hoped not, but who's to say for sure?

"Hey," Tim said when we reached the doors of the girl's dorm. I turned, watching the shadows flicker and pull different parts of him into the night. From his pants pocket he pulled a folded piece of golden paper and handed it to me. I took it and peeled it open. It was thick like cardstock, and on the front was swooping calligraphy that spelled out the words admits one. Lower down, in smaller but still absolutely stunning lettering, was a time and a date. "It's a Lord event," Tim explained. "But this ones a bit more exclusive than the last. So, don't go telling everyone about it. Actually, don't go telling anyone." He smiled. "See you there." It wasn't a question.

I slid the paper into my own pocket. "Maybe," I told him, turning and walking away, but this time I couldn't help looking back. When I did our eyes met and he held my gaze for a moment. My breath caught and with a smirk Tim winked and turned away.

When I got back to my bedroom Jessica was asleep under her covers. Or at least, pretending to be. She wasn't doing a great job of it. Her breathing was uneven like she was trying to keep it quiet. I knew that in the morning stories of my mysterious late night outing with the King of Pruitt would be spreading across the student body like wildfire. I knew Tim would have known that too, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was a part of the strange game we seemed to be playing.

Before going to sleep I sent a picture of the ticket to Madeline. She answered with one word.

Good.

I closed my eyes, but my head didn't stop spinning. I wasn't sure it ever would. Something had changed. I wasn't sure exactly what, but something definitely had.