Put on a show

CHAPTER 1 (New guy in class)

Graham Newman glances at the shock of black hair visible between the trees.

The newest member of Advanced theater is an enigma.

Tristan Zamudio

Neither friendly nor unfriendly, the other boy simply didn't engage with anyone in the class beyond what was necessary as a classmate. And surprisingly, most of the class doesn't seem to want to push him. The aloof student has a wall around him that even the most friendly of their classmates are apparently intimidated by, or maybe it's because they're all a bit wary of his silence. Graham does feel bad for tristan, it can't be easy transferring in to such a close-knit class, a class bonded by traumas.

Graham himself had, on more than one occasion, tried to engage tristan in conversation only to be rebuffed. Tristan isn't particularly rude about it, but his dismissive and slightly sarcastic demeanor is a little stinging

*
*
*

Graham is debating between continuing on his way or trying to approach his newest classmate when he hears a voice.

"-im suprised youre in theatre"

Graham hesitates.

Is tristan talking to someone?

He's about to turn and leave tristan, so as not to interfere in his conversation when it continues.

"What are you ganna act out? A suicide scene?" the voice scoffs and graham freezes, "youre nothing but an emo freak"

Graham wonders why tristan is staying silent at the unfair and downright cruel accusations, but he's not going to stand for it.

"Hey!" he calls out.

"Shit!" the second voice yelps, "let's get out of here. This fag isn't even worth our time"

Graham pushes through the trees only to see two people disappearing into the building.

Tristan is standing there with a flat expression. Unaffected and almost bored as he glances lazily at graham.

"graham," he says in a monotone voice.

"They shouldn't say those things about you!" graham spouts. Tristan shrugs, slouching nonchalantly.

"It's fine," he says, not looking at graham, "they're not the first to say it. I'm used to it"

"You shouldn't be!" graham glares, "calling you names simply for the way you dress is wrong!" tristan's eyes widen involuntarily, a crack in his unaffected facade.

"Don't," tristan says, voice harsh around the edges. "Don't. Don't be nice." graham blinks as confusion flits through him. "I'll be fine if you stop talking," tristan turns on his heel but not before graham catches sight of a slightly glossy sheen to tired brown eyes.

"tristan-"

"Don't!" Graham hears the crack in his new classmate's voice that betrays his feelings. "I have to go"

"Wait, tristan-"

Graham finds himself frozen, stiff and unable to move. Brainwashed by tristans saddened sight

"Don't follow me," tristan says before fleeing the clearing.

The minute tristan is out of sight, graham has control of his mind again. He stumbles forward a step and stares in the direction tristan ran off to.

He returns to the dorms feeling somewhat morose and incredibly conflicted, unfamiliar feelings at war in his chest.....

*

“Graham …?”

“Oh, Emmy!”grahams mind snaps to the present. The girls in his theatre class are sitting clustered around the table in the common room.

Emmy is looking at him in concern.

“You okay, graham?”

“Did tristan come in?” graham blurts out before he can catch himself. Emmy looks confused and concerned.

Kris holds a finger to her mouth.

“I don’t think so,sorry."  Unless he went in through his balcony”she laughes at the thought

Graham nods.

“Thanks, Kris” he murmurs, making a beeline for the elevator before changing his mind and heading towards the stairs.

He knows tristan’s room is the very last one on the fifth floor, next to camori’s and he finds himself hovering outside the door, hand raised to knock.

Why is he doing this?

Graham lowers his hand slightly, staring at  Tristan’s name on the nameplate. If tristan does answer the door, what is graham supposed to say? Demand an explanation for being left? Ask tristan why he didn’t defend himself? Apologize for eavesdropping? Demand to know who they were?

He exhales and lowers his hand back down to his side.

Tristan told him to leave him alone. Yelled him to ensure that graham couldn’t follow him. Clearly, tristan doesn’t want the conversation being brought up.

But what kind of class rep would he be if he allowed something like this to continue? What kind of leader would he be if he let his own classmate endure such things?

Determined, he raises his hand to knock.

There’s nothing but silence.

Graham knocks again.

“tristan?” he calls out, “are you there?”

No response.

Either tristan isn’t in his room or he’s intentionally ignoring the knocks on his door.

Graham wouldn’t be surprised to discover it’s the latter. He waits a few more minutes before giving up.

That night as he lays in his bed, he can’t help but replay the conversation he overheard. With each time he thinks about it, he’s filled with an even more righteous anger.

'It’s fine.'

'I’m used to it.'

Graham clenches his fists, because deep inside he knows that he was once guilty of thinking unkindly of people who dressed like tristan.

It was his brother and Ms. Walsh who showed him the error of his thinking.

His brorher who hadn’t cared about what anyone’s interest was, or if they even had one, but cared about where their heart was and whether someone was a good person.

It’s with a familiar resolve that graham decides he’s not going to let tristan persist with the belief that he’s a freak or that it’s acceptable for people to call him one, regardless of whether he’s used to it or not.