The Geek Revolution ✓

50 | genuine

Reece is mulling over something, his eyes detaching from reality and wandering into a daydream before hardening. He opens his mouth to speak — probably to deny that anything's wrong — but I can't let this opportunity slip away. "You know if you ever need a listening ear, I'm here. Any time." The words rush out of me so intensely that I sound almost desperate.

I want to sound sincere because, despite my questionable motives, I am. My breath stutters as I wait for him to turn me away. It's the only logical outcome, after all. Frankly, Reece looks as stoic as ever. No pained eyes, no brimming tears or breaking voices. Not like how I saw his first breakdown. The boy in front of me seems flawless, which most likely means my efforts haven't made any sort of dent in him. I was just going out on a limb in case some information arose.

But then Reece's eyebrows pinch, just a little. His voice cracks. Just a small whine of a sound, yet it strikes my ears as thunderously as an iceberg splitting. "Even if I needed it now?"

And that's enough for me to realise that everything he looks on the outside is just a projection of what he wants to be, not what he is. On the inside, he's a little broken, a little scarred by something.

I have to ignore the gnawing guilt that is telling me after he finds out I used him, he'll be even more broken and scarred. Surely, he would understand why I have to do this. Brittany can't keep controlling people like this. She can't hold people back from their dreams, or from speaking out. The last thing I want is to hurt people like Brittany does, but to stop her, I have to burn away the ropes she's tied around their necks, even if they get scorched a bit in the process. It's the only way out I know.

So, while the other four revolutionaries and the other four Monarchs must be chatting away in the cafeteria, Reece and I wander into a deserted hallway. He slumps against the lockers, letting his knees buckle until he's sitting on the ground. I awkwardly descend next to him. Delaney must have planned this out in her head in a split second, the freaking genius. I hope she at least told Benjamin, Leah and Drew why I'm skipping lunch.

Reece rubs his palms over his face. "I swear, I'm not usually that bad at basketball." I keep silent as Reece starts to open up his walls to entirely the wrong person. I've always wondered: if Reece thinks I'm the right person to trust, but I don't, who is correct? "It's just yesterday, is always an emotional day for me."

My earlier suspicion is slowly confirmed. It must be some sort of annual thing. Maybe an anniversary of some girl who broke his heart? That would make for some really powerful stuff — stuff that both Brittany and I could use. Shifting closer to Reece, I nudge his shoulder until he looks at me. "You don't have to tell me," lingers in the air, like a gentle promise.

"No, I really should get this off my chest."

From his pocket, Reece pulls out his wallet and plucks a crinkled photograph. White age lines run across it like fissures. It's nearly in tatters. Leaning over his arm to see it, my breath catches at the familial scene frozen on paper. The photo is of a toddler-aged Reece sitting barefoot on grass. Next to him, an older boy — about eight years old — is posing with arms flexed. In one hand is a tiny football, the kind made for kids. An extremely oversized sports jacket hangs on the boy's shoulders.

Reece's lips are set in a straight line as I ask, "Your brother?" All I get is a nod. "What was yesterday?"

I'm preparing for the worst. His brother looks so gleeful — like there are rays of sunshine inside him, bursting out from the corners of his eyes and gaps in teeth — I'll be disheartened if yesterday was the anniversary of his death. I can't help but be a little relieved as Reece says, "His birthday."

"What happened to him? If it's not too personal."

"Uh," Reece forces the words out, around the tight lump in his throat, "He had an accident in high school, which stopped him from playing sports. Sports is kind of a family tradition, and his not playing anymore made things kind of tense between him and Dad." A tremor runs through his voice, indicative of all the grief Reece holds in his heart. I feel my stomach twist nauseatingly in fear of what he is going to say next. "After that, he got into some bad habits, and moved away. I didn't try to stop him. We didn't even hear from him until it was too late. Police said suicide. They found him in Seattle."