*Watty's 2021 Shortlist*
Samantha Roberts and Ben Evans have one thing in common - they both attend Sir Robertson's School for the Gifted, an elite boarding school for the children of the world's wealthiest. Both scholarship students, they gravitate...
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The door closes behind us, and I can't keep the tears back anymore. Anthony has his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into the warmth of him, the safe sturdiness. It's crazy that he already feels so familiar to me.
He leads me down the hall and through another door into what must be his room.
I've braced myself for a replica of Ben's room (cold pizza crusts, dirty clothes, and that sweaty teenage boy smell,) but I'm pleasantly surprised. There is nothing on his floor, and his desk and bookshelves are neat. His bed is made, and there is a faint smell of—actually, I'm not
sure what it is. It's like shea butter and coconut and....Christmas trees. It is a smell I recognise from our night in the Library.
Anthony smiles at the surprised look on my face.
"What, you didn't think my room was going to be like Ben's, did you?"
I shrug. "I hadn't exactly thought about it, I guess."
I look up, suddenly realising how close we're standing. I was always shorter than Ben, but I barely come up to Anthony's chin.
"You mean you haven't spent hours dreaming about what the inside of my room looks like?" he says, joking.
I shake my head and laugh. Except that I'm still kind of crying, so it comes out more like a sob.
Anthony's face is shuttered. For once I'm not wondering what he's thinking. If it's pity, then I'm glad I can't tell from his face.
"What are you thinking?" he asks, studying my face.
I shrug. In truth, I feel shaky. Disorientated. My mind is a mess of memories, of the pain of the look on Ben's face, on the flickering and disappearances and dreams.
"Everything's just... I don't know what's real or not, anymore," I say. "But it's like... I know Ben is involved."
"Because of Rose," Anthony says, eyes tight on mine.
"Yes... and no," I say, feeling frustrated. "I don't know why... But he's – He's gone now. So it doesn't even matter."
"He's in love with you," Anthony says, gently, but also as a question.
"He's my best friend," I repeat. "I've never... I don't feel the same. I never have." I rub my eyes. "And I knew he had a crush on me, but... I didn't want it to ruin everything, you know? He's – he's important."
"I'm sorry," Anthony says. His eyes are soft, gazing at me with empathy and a bit of anger. "I kind of hate him for hurting you."
I laugh, and this time it's a bit less like a sob. "Thanks, I think?"
He's somehow even closer now than he was before. "Here," he says, wrapping his arms around me.
I melt into the hug, pressing my face into his shoulder. I'm still not sure what this is between us, how much of this I'm just allowed to do, but right now it doesn't matter.
