Truth or Dare

3

As we arrive in my neighborhood, the atmosphere undergoes a palpable shift. The streets are lined with worn-out buildings, their facades adorned with colorful but fading graffiti. The buildings that line the street stand like silent sentinels, their once vibrant colors now muted by layers of grime and pollution. Some boarded up, while others are adorned with makeshift curtains or tattered blinds that offer little privacy from the prying eyes outside. Broken streetlights intermittently illuminate the dimly lit sidewalks, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly into the evening.

"You can leave me here. My house isn't far from playground," I say as we round the playground where children are playing, their laughter can be heard cutting through the air like a beacon of hope. 

"I'll drop you off at home, just tell me where to turn.

"Turn left," I say as Max dodges a gigantic pothole. He probably wishes he didn't offer me a ride right now after the million potholes he managed to dodge and the others he missed. 

Groups of people gather on street corners, their voices carrying through the air in hushed tones. They stare at the  Jeep with vulture eyes.

"There's my house right there."

Max's Jeep slows to pull up in front of my tiny house. He steps out of the Jeep before me, and makes his way to the back where my bicycle is securely fastened. 

I step out and follow him. In the dim light, I can see Max's strong biceps as he carefully unsecures the straps holding the bike in place. His movements are deliberate and efficient, a testament to his familiarity with the task at hand. With a firm tug, he releases the final strap, and the bike is free. As he lifts the bicycle, I can see the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt.  Then he says, "This is a really nice bicycle you got here. The craftsmanship is impressive."

I nod, "Thanks. I've had for a few years now, but she still rides like a dream."

My bicycle was a 15th birthday gift from my father because of the love I've always had for riding bicycles. It all started when I five years old. My dad and I used to go for bike rides while my mom would be left behind at home. Even now when I ride my bicycle, it feels like I'm a little girl again and my dad is beside me, riding along with me. 

He then looks around my surrounding area and then at my house. "So this is where you guys live?" he asks, his tone tinged with curiosity as he takes in the sight. 

"Yeah, doesn't match up to your fancy neighborhood, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to say it, I can read the room."

Max parts his lips to respond but, my Mom appears from nowhere. Her expression is a mix of confusion and concern as she eyes Max standing beside me. "What's going on here? Lily, what happened?" Mom demands.

"Hi Mom," I greet, a hint of nervousness creeping into my voice. "Max gave me ride home after my bicycle got punctured."

I don't formally introduce Max to my mother. After all, everyone in town knows who he is. Additionally, Max's appearances on TV alongside his dad have made him a recognizable figure in the town. Max's dad wasn't just the Mayor, but he also comes from a bloodline of elites. Max's family history is a tale woven with the threads of tradition and prestige, a legacy that extends far beyond the realm of local politics.

Mom gives Max a curt nod, but her eyes betray her unease.  It's no secret that Mom hates the Mayor. One of the reasons is he barely comes to this side of the small town. The only time you'll see his face is when he is taking pictures with kids on the playground and the public school. So I have now learnt that the mayor's sons' existence triggers her just as much. I hope she doesn't start hating my father next.