The Philosophers' Game

Chapter 18: The Reality in Fakeness

Been waiting to write this chapter since I first started this project. I might even consider it the climax. Therefore, I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories about what will happen next more than ever. If you only choose one chapter on which to comment, please choose this one :) Hopefully it shocks you and you love it xx

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Chapter 18: The Reality in Fakeness

The loud conversations and general morning hustle faded quieter and quieter with each step I took deeper into the hallway. With nearly every pair of eyes locked on me and filled with hatred, I felt as if I were walking to my execution.

Hundreds of sheets of bright pink paper showed pictures of me - some at my locker with Diogenes's closed ledger in hand, and the rest of me looking suspiciously intimate with Plato. I felt my throat burning, my eyes brimming with tears. I couldn't breathe. The blackmailer, the Outsider to the Club, had acted to frame me as both a cheater and a thief before I'd taken the chance to reveal him. But regardless of whether I had taken Plato's advice to use our last few days of winter break to make a move, I suddenly realized I could never have won this battle against my blackmailer. After all, even if I'd kept the ledger to myself, the Outsider could have posted this picture of me at any time. So why now?

With shaking hands, I forced myself to keep moving forward. There was still more to see. Crowded by the lockers that Plato usually vandalized were the popular group, all the Philosophers, and countless other students. Across the unconventional canvas were two words, simple but profound, in the vandal's signature black paint: YOU'RE WELCOME. Feeling the wind knocked out of me for a second time, I looked helplessly to a wide-eyed Plato, who only shook his head in innocence, confusion, and sorrow.

Altogether, the pictures and the words on the walls just confirmed for the entire school that the nameless vandal did not steal the ledger, that in fact he was the Good Guy and I was the Bad. But it finally confirmed for me, anyhow, that the Outsider was in the popular group, since only we and the other Philosopher boys knew that Plato was the vandal.

At last, I forced myself to face Nathan, though his eyes and his face portrayed nothing but disappointment. I honestly couldn't tell if he was acting, or if he finally saw that maybe my fake relationship with Plato was a little too real. All I could manage now was to stand frozen in place and try to hold back tears.

After what seemed like an eternity, Plato announced, his voice catching and thus relatively unconvincing, "This isn't what it looks like."

"Then what is it?" snarled Socrates from behind me. There was an angry fire in his eyes and his fists were clenched at his sides when I turned around, signaling he was both offended and jealous. For real, not for the game. I opened my mouth to intervene, but no words came out. Their argument, I knew, would boil down to one thing, the one thing that had changed both the game and their relationship: me.

Though clearly taken aback by Socrates lashing out, Plato recovered quickly and accused, "I don't know. You tell me. You probably spend more time with Candace than I do, yet I'm pictured and not you. What's that about? Plus, you've been acting awfully suspicious lately. Need I remind everyone that you don't have a solid alibi for pulling the fire alarm?"

Loud whispers in support of the handsome football player and wrestler resounded throughout the growing audience. I could feel the energy, the rowdiness, of the crowd increasing by the second and nervously wondered where all the teachers were at a time like this. With the school so polarized by the game in addition to the natural social order, I worried about a fight breaking out and about how many people might get involved, not to mention the ensuing suspensions.