the name of the game - e.j caswell

04

Annalise felt a wave of relief wash over her as the final bell rang, signaling the end of her first day at East High. The echo of the bell was like a signal to escape the stifling pressure that had been building inside her throughout the day. Despite the kindness she had received from Nini and Kourtney, there was a lingering weight that shadowed her every step—a weight she couldn't quite shake. It wasn't that Nini and Kourtney had made her feel unwelcome; quite the opposite. They were kind, warm, and approachable. But there was something about the magnetic pull between Nini and E.J. that seemed to drag Annalise back to a past she wasn't ready to face. It wasn't resentment she felt for them, not exactly. There was no hatred in her heart for the two of them, but there was an unmistakable sense of unease, the kind that one experiences when history lingers just beneath the surface, unresolved and aching for attention. It was as if their chemistry, their shared history, was a thread that tethered her to something painful and unresolved—a chapter of her life that had never truly ended, even though she had moved away from it. With the final bell, however, she felt a fleeting moment of escape as she made her way toward the cafeteria.

When Ashlyn Caswell and Seb Matthew-Smith invited her to join them for lunch, she jumped at the chance. It wasn't just about the company—it was about the promise of a temporary reprieve from the pull of E.J.'s presence that seemed to follow her around like an unwelcome shadow. The brief flicker of relief that came with leaving Nini and E.J.'s orbit was something Annalise grasped at eagerly, though she couldn't escape the subtle undercurrent of tension that always seemed to follow her whenever E.J. was concerned. She'd hoped, maybe even naively, that this new chapter at East High might somehow be free from the ties that bound her to her past, but it seemed as though every time she turned around, there was a reminder. As she walked to the cafeteria with Ashlyn and Seb, her heart lightened a little. The conversation was easy, the laughter genuine, and for a moment, Annalise allowed herself to forget the weight of her past—the history with E.J. that she had hoped would remain buried. But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she felt it. That tension, that pull, was still there, just beneath the surface. After lunch, she gathered her things and joined the throng of students heading to the small theater for auditions, her heart beginning to race with nervous anticipation. The excitement of the day wasn't over yet, and as much as she tried to quiet the nerves that began to churn in her stomach, she knew this moment was important.

Once inside the theater, the nerves settled into a familiar rhythm, a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. She made her way to the changing room, where the excitement and anxiety seemed to collide. Annalise slipped into a pair of black leggings and a dark green crop top. As she sat down at the mirror, she applied her makeup. Annalise was no stranger to the art of performance makeup, having honed the craft over the years.

"You look so ready," Ashlyn said, her voice filled with a mixture of encouragement and quiet admiration. Annalise couldn't help but smile at the compliment, though she felt the tension creeping back into her chest. "Fake it till you make it," Annalise replied, the cliché slipping from her lips before she could stop it. She winced at the words, almost embarrassed by their simplicity, but the truth was, she found comfort in them. Sometimes, that was all one could do—fake it, and hope that somewhere along the way, the confidence would follow. 

Ashlyn, ever the optimist, nodded in agreement, her own nerves barely contained beneath the surface of her calm exterior. The reassurance, while well-intentioned, didn't do much to quiet Annalise's nerves. They were about to perform in front of their peers, many of whom had likely known each other for years, while she was still trying to find her place in this new world. Before she could gather her thoughts, Carlos, clipboard in hand, suddenly burst into the room, his voice loud and demanding. "Make sure your number is clearly visible! This is not a joke!" His frantic energy filled the room, raising the stakes of the moment. Annalise adjusted the number "2" on her chest, taking a deep breath to steady herself before she started braiding her hair tightly, ensuring it stayed out of her face. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere, still caught in the web of anxiety and nerves that threatened to consume her.