Banana Bus Squad 'X' Reader

BryceGames -- Dancing With Death

My mom pulls up to the front of the school and smiles at me before unlocking the doors. It's that kind of smile you know is trying its best to hide the true feelings of the person it belongs to. I smile back at her with the same enthusiasm. It's that time of year again, the last month of school. A reminder of the events of the years before. I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car, closing the door gently as I walk towards the school, or as I dub it, The Slaughter House. Morbid, I know, but I wouldn't call it that if it weren't true.

I open the front door and groups of people stand around, chatting and laughing. I pull my black hood up over my head and pull it down in the front so people can't see my face. More specifically, so Bryce can't see my face. I look at the walls of the hallway and read the multiple propaganda posters for the school's annual Dance. I glare at many of them as they bear a horrendous date in pastel rainbow colors. May Twenty-fifth. It's two days away.

I hate that date. That's the day the school staff shoves us all into the school auditorium, with the seniors in the front row for convenience, to announce the couple who will represent the school at the Dance the next night. At the Dance, there are tons of couples who obviously dance the night away, trying their best to not mess up or forget a part. Judges sit at a two-meter long table watching the pairs dance, studying each and every move they make. At the end of the Dance, when the clock strikes midnight, the judges gather their input and make a joined consensus about who has won. They announce it to the whole ballroom. Hearts sink, stomachs drop, people burst into tears but the lucky two breathe a sigh of relief. The losers are taken away to be exterminated, showing that they have had horrible educations. The schools who taught the losers are given a harsh punishment the next school year which gives the school a prison-like vibe, making sure that we actually learn something and have a chance at being first. The winning school is given the special treatment with all the latest technology. The reason they get the special treatment is to ensure that the school doesn't win again the next year as they haven't learned much from all the pampering.

It's messed up. A cruel and stupid thing to do to people. I've never stressed so bad about it before because I knew I was safe, I knew I'd never be chosen because I wasn't a senior. Well, now I am. I either win and graduate, lose and die or not get picked, not deal with the stress, and graduate, you can see which one I'd clearly want. The Dance was a normal thing to me before, I've never hated it but last year is what set me off, tipped the iceberg. Last year my older brother was chosen, last year our school lost.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Bryce cheerily skips up into step with me, snapping me from my depressing thoughts. I look up to his smiling face and give him my best smile, the one my mom and I shared in the car. I pressure myself to keep a joyful attitude and happy face when I'm around Bryce, I don't need him to worry about me. I want him to be happy.

"Hi, Bryce!" I put on the smile I shared with my mom in the car. I keep my voice high and perky just to make sure he doesn't get suspicious. He smiles as he obviously bought my act. He doesn't question why my hood is up.

---

I wipe my eyes while my mom pulls to a stop in front of the school. We'd spent the whole car ride crying and get it out before we had to interact with other human beings. It's getting close to the anniversary of my brother's death. I've been crying even more since yesterday. My dad has been worrying non-stop that I'll be picked and die like my brother. When I'm at home, my parents spend all their time they have with me, it makes me cry more. It also why they've been dropping me off instead of me driving myself.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, hug my mom,  and get out. I walk up to the school and put my hood up to cover my face again. When I open the doors buzz about the dance rages louder than yesterday. Some people talk about who they want to go with, others talk about who should go together. I mentally scoff at them that they aren't fretting about the possible bad things that could happen.