*Watty's 2021 Shortlist*
Samantha Roberts and Ben Evans have one thing in common - they both attend Sir Robertson's School for the Gifted, an elite boarding school for the children of the world's wealthiest. Both scholarship students, they gravitate...
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I can't seem to stop smiling as I close the door behind us, leaving Sam in the hallway. I keep replaying the way she interacted with Rose, how kind and gentle she was, how the fluorescent lights of the hallway reflected off her long black hair...
It's official: I have a crush.
It's been less than a day, but that's not unusual for me—I've always fallen hard and fast.
Like Macey the summer after eighth grade, who I saw in the parking lot of a movie theatre, spinning in the summer dusk, pink hair spinning behind her. I found the sweater that she'd left on her seat, and she smiled and hugged me. Or Andrew, a boy who sat behind me in ninth-grade science, who lent me pencils and who I spent a breathless few weeks working on a project with. I'd kissed him behind my house, apple tree blossoms drifting around us.
I'll see strangers on the street, someone with a particular smile or kind eyes, and dream about them for weeks. I guess I've always wanted that meet-cute, that true-love-at-first-site soulmate kind of thing.
But somehow, Sam is still different than all of them—because Sam feels real. This isn't going to be the last time I see her. And she already feels so familiar, so safe—like I can tell her anything, and she'll just tilt her head and listen, looking at me with those ridiculously green eyes.
I'm pulled out of my daydream by Rose, who is tugging on my hand.
"Will you help me?" she asks, trying to lift her bag onto the bed. She's small for her twelve years, and the suitcase is over half her size. I can't help but chuckle, and she shoots me a dirty look.
"Come on, Ben," she whines, and then something in her gaze turns mischievous. "You don't want to be late to meet Sam, do you?"
"No, that would be rude," I say, blushing. I don't like the look in Rose's eyes. Being my little sister, teasing me is practically in her job description. But I don't like the idea that she might have noticed me crushing on Sam—that makes it too public, too much. It feels so personal, like something I want to keep to myself for a little while.
"You have a cru-ush," she sings, and I roll my eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Rose. Sam's a friend."
Her gaze turns wicked. "I never mentioned Sam," she squeals. "But you do, don't you? She's so pretty, and nice..."
"Oh yeah?" I say. "Maybe you have a crush on her, then." I reach down and tickle her.
"Gross!" she squeals. "She's old, like you. And kissing is gross, anyway."
"Old?" I gasp, mock offended, putting one hand on my chest. Rose laughs along, and I feel the last remnants of the day's tension melt away.
What did I do to deserve such an amazing sister? Rose does manage to drag me out of my thoughts eventually, with the use of lots of tickling and more threats to make us late. The hallways are still eerily empty. I guess most people are at dinner already, or out with friends.
