SHADOWS & MIRRORS

Chapter One: Masks

Jordan Hawkins sat in the back of the classroom, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the desk. To anyone watching, he looked completely at ease—eyes half-closed, a faint smile on his lips, as if he wasn't even paying attention. But every word, every shift of body language in the room, was being processed and cataloged in his mind.

The idiots don't even see it.

He glanced up briefly at the debate raging in the center of the room. A couple of students stood near the whiteboard, their faces flushed with righteous indignation. Today's topic was about justice, fairness, and all the usual crap this school loved to pat itself on the back for discussing.

"...and that's why we need to work harder to make sure everyone has equal opportunities," one of the girls was saying, her voice growing louder with each sentence. Charlotte Whitmore—Charlie—stood at the front, her blonde hair pulled back in that perfect ponytail she always wore, her blue eyes sparkling with conviction. She was in full debate mode, drawing nods from a few of the other students.

Jordan's smile widened a fraction. She thinks she's got this figured out. So damn sure of herself.

Charlie was the queen of moral high ground. The girl who always had her hand up in class, who never broke a rule, and who was worshiped for it. The teachers loved her, the students loved her—hell, she probably loved herself more than anyone. Jordan had watched her work this room a thousand times before, winning debates, pushing for change in ways that never seemed to touch reality.

"What about the people who don't follow the rules?" Charlie asked, turning her sharp gaze on the room. "How can we make society fair for everyone if some people refuse to contribute or take shortcuts? Isn't fairness about everyone playing by the same rules?"

Jordan's fingers stopped tapping. There it is. She wasn't talking to the room anymore. She was talking to him.

There was a pause as her words hung in the air, the energy in the room shifting toward Jordan's corner. His classmates stole quick glances at him—nothing obvious, just enough to let him know they were all thinking the same thing. Everyone knew Jordan was smart. He could ace a test without studying, handle any group project without breaking a sweat. But they also knew about the rumors—the whispers that he didn't always play fair. That he had a way of getting things done that didn't sit right with people like Charlie.

Jordan raised his hand slowly, the movement deliberate. All eyes snapped to him. The smile never left his face, but his eyes sharpened.

"Interesting point, Charlie," he said, his voice smooth. "But what happens when the rules aren't made for everyone? What if the system's designed so that some people are never meant to win? What then?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed. Hook, line, and sinker.

"The system?" she shot back, her tone laced with skepticism. "What system are you talking about, Jordan? Everyone in this school has the same opportunities. It's about how hard you work, how much effort you put in. You can't blame the rules just because you don't like them."

A few students murmured in agreement, their gazes darting between the two of them like they were watching a tennis match. Jordan leaned back in his seat, pretending to think about her words, even though he already knew exactly where this was going.

"You ever think," Jordan said, his voice casual, "that maybe some people are set up to lose from the start? That maybe, no matter how hard they work, they don't have the same head start as you?"

The room went silent. Charlie's jaw tightened.

"I don't see how that's relevant to what we're talking about," she said, a little too quickly. "If you play fair, you win. That's the whole point of fairness."

Jordan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Spoken like someone who's never had to fight to survive."

The words hit the room like a slap. He could see Charlie bristle, her perfect composure starting to crack. That was the thing about people like her—they lived in this little bubble of certainty, believing the world would always make sense as long as they followed the rules. People like him didn't have that luxury.

Before she could respond, the bell rang, cutting the tension like a knife. Chairs scraped against the floor as students gathered their things, shooting glances between the two of them, the debate unresolved but still lingering in the air.

Jordan stayed seated, watching as Charlie packed up her books with stiff, jerky movements. She didn't even look his way as she left the room, but he knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

As the last student filed out, Jordan finally stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A text from his mom: "Need you to pick up groceries after school."

Back to reality, he thought. The gap between school and home life was always jarring, like stepping through an invisible doorway into a completely different world. At school, everything was about image—playing the part, wearing the right mask. At home, it was about survival. The bills, the groceries, the hustle to get by.

But that was fine. Jordan had learned a long time ago that playing the part was how you survived. People like Charlie could afford to believe in fairness because they'd never had to fight for anything. The rules worked for them. He wasn't one of those people, and he never would be. He'd make his own rules.

The walk home felt longer than usual today. Jordan passed by rows of manicured lawns and clean streets, the world around him pristine and untouched, like some glossy magazine cover of suburban life. But the farther he walked, the more the world shifted. The houses got smaller, the streets rougher. Trash lined the sidewalks, and the occasional car sat on cinderblocks. The difference between his school world and home was like stepping into a different reality.

He finally reached his apartment building, an old, weathered structure that had seen better days. The elevator was broken again, so he trudged up the stairs to the third floor, his legs burning by the time he reached his door.

Inside, the apartment was quiet. His mom was probably still at work, pulling a double shift at the hospital. Jordan tossed his bag onto the couch and headed to the kitchen, grabbing the grocery list off the fridge. He glanced at the items, feeling a pang of frustration.

How am I supposed to worry about groceries when I've got a plan to work?

His mind raced, still caught on the debate with Charlie. She was the one standing in his way now. The student council election was coming up, and she'd already started pushing her campaign hard. If he was going to take her down, he needed to move quickly, get people on his side before she could lock in her little army of supporters.

The thing about people like Charlie was that they didn't see him coming. They never did. They couldn't understand someone like him, someone who didn't play by their rules because he'd never been allowed to.

Jordan grinned to himself as he grabbed his jacket. Time to go out and handle the groceries. But tomorrow? Tomorrow was when the real game would begin.