Page 55 of Play Fake
So, I pat the rug beside me. “How about this—we build the strongest fort ever. One so strong that no one can knock it down. Not even the Hulk.”
A hiccupy laugh slips out of him, the tiniest spark of light breaking through. He sinks down next to me and grabs the blocks with determined little hands.
As we stack walls crooked and high, I feel it again—that pull in my chest.
Thisis why I’m here.
Because kids like Caleb need someone they can count on, someone who can sit with them when the world feels too big and too scary.
And for the briefest second, I think of Beck. The way he’s supportive without even trying. The way just sitting next to him in class seems to calm me down, even if it’s temporarily.
I shake the thought off and add another block to Caleb’s fortress.
“See?” I grin at him. “Unstoppable.”
He nods, cheeks still damp but smiling now, and for the first time all morning, I breathe easier.
Friday morning, I’m already in my seat when the clock ticks over.
Professor Nelson strides to the front, shuffling papers and adjusting his glasses. Students are still filing in, but one face is missing.
I tap my pen against the edge of my notebook, trying to focus as Professor Nelson clears his throat. “As promised, today we’ll be assigning partners for your research projects. Remember, this will account for a significant portion of your grade. Presentations will be taking place during finals week, so I suggest you get to work immediately.”
My attention flickers back to the door.
When it finally swings open, relief and worry hit me in the same breath.
Beck slips inside, quiet but noticeable. His hair’s damp like he didn’t finish drying it, his jaw tight, and he looks pale. Really pale. He mutters a quick apology to Professor Nelson before sliding into the seat beside me.
He doesn’t bother with his bag. Just lowers his head onto his folded arms, like even holding it up requires too much effort.
I lean closer, my voice soft. “Hey. You okay?”
He shakes his head, just barely, with his eyes still closed, and my stomach drops.
Professor Nelson is still talking, rattling off expectations about sources and presentation length, but the words blur when I hear him say, “Harrison and Prescott, you’ll be working together.”
My eyes dart to Beck. He doesn’t even lift his head.
Partners.
My pulse skips, torn between the weight of the assignment and the boy beside me who suddenly looks nothing like the linebacker I’m used to seeing.
I lean closer, lowering my voice so it doesn’t carry past our row. “Beck…if you’re feeling that bad, you might have the stomach flu or something. You should go rest.”
His head shifts just enough that I catch the faintest crack of green eyes. “Can’t. Don’t want to miss this.”
I glance at the board where Professor Nelson is still outlining the grading rubric, then back at Beck. “It’s just the intro. I can catch you up?—”
He shakes his head once, firm but sluggish. “I’ll be fine.”
The words sound like a habit, like muscle memory more than truth. His jaw clenches, and I can tell it’s costing him something just to sit upright.
“Fine,” I whisper back. “But after class, I’m walking you back to your place.”
That gets the smallest huff of breath from him—something halfway between amusement and resignation. He doesn’t argue, though.
Professor Nelson’s voice booms again, pulling my attention forward. “Each pair will receive their assigned diagnosis at the start of next week. In the meantime, use this weekend to coordinate schedules with your partner.”
