Boys Don’t Play Fair

Noah found an empty bench under a tree near the west wing—far enough from the main courtyard that most people didn't bother coming this way. He dropped his backpack and sank down, heavy and tired. His back still hurt from where Liam slammed him into the table earlier. Whispers and sideways glances kept swirling in his head. And underneath all that mess, one thought kept nagging at him since lunch. I really need a tutor. Noah yanked out his wrinkled schedule and stared at it. English. Calculus. Chemistry. He was behind in all of them. His old school was packed and broke—teachers tried, but when forty kids shared a room and half the books were missing pages, “best effort” didn't count for much. Here, everyone talked about AP classes and college apps like it was obvious. Like there was some handbook they all got and he never did. He didn’t know how to keep up. And if he flunked just one class, the scholarship disappeared. Then it’d be back to the old apartment. His old high schoo

Jay read Noah’s essay without saying a word.Noah sat across from him, doing his best not to fidget. The library was dead silent, except for a page turning here and there. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows, making the dust hang in the air. Jay’s face was impossible to read.Finally, he put the paper down.“This is bad,” Jay said.Noah’s jaw clenched. “I know it’s not perfect, but—”“It’s not about perfect. It’s about structure.” Jay scooted the paper over, tapping the first paragraph. “You’re trying to say three different things here. Pick one.”“The prompt asked for thematic analysis. I’m analyzing themes.”“You’re just listing them. That’s not the same.” Jay snatched up a pen and slashed through half of Noah’s introduction. “Analysis means you pick one theme and actually break it down. Show how Fitzgerald uses it, where it comes up, why it matters.”“I did that.”Jay shook his head. “No, you described it. There’s a difference. Describing is easy. Analysis means you’re a

Noah stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel. The apartment felt more silent than usual. His mom was still at work, some late shift that never seemed to end on time. He threw on sweats and a shirt, collapsed onto his bed.His phone sat on the edge of the nightstand, blinking. He grabbed it, scrolled through boring emails from teachers, the usual nagging about an assignment due Friday. Then he switched to his messages and started typing.Noah: where did you go? didn't see you after practiceA couple minutes later, Joe replied.Joe: had to help with something in the libraryJoe: sorry, should've told youNoah stared at the screen. Joe never stayed late for the library. He’d acted normal earlier, too.Whatever. Noah let it go.Noah: no worries. just making sure you're okayJoe: yeah i'm goodJoe: how was practice?Noah: fine. watched jay destroy everyone at drillsJoe: lol sounds about rightJoe: you staying for tomorrow's practice too?Noah: yeah. apparently that's the

Joe checked his phone for the third time that day.Still nothing from Noah.He hung around by the classroom doors, eyes darting over the crowd as students poured out. Noah usually turned up around now. He always did. So where was he?He called—straight to voicemail.With a quiet sigh, Joe shoved his phone deep in his pocket.Maybe Noah got sidetracked. Or was with Jay again.Joe headed for the exit, glancing down the hallway for any sign of his friend.He didn't notice anyone behind him until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.He nearly jumped out of his skin."Relax," someone said.He whirled—Liam.A jolt ran through him. His heart pounded way too fast."You scared me," Joe muttered."You scare easy." Liam jerked his head toward the courtyard. "Walk with me."Not a question. Just a command.Joe hesitated. "I was just—""Looking

“How was practice yesterday?”Noah looked up from his lunch, distracted. Joe watched him, half a bite from his sandwich.“It was fine,” Noah finally said.“Just fine? You sure?”“Yeah. Why?”Joe set his sandwich down. “You sound off. Did something happen?”Noah pushed at his food. “Liam showed up.”Joe’s eyes widened. “Liam? I thought it was solo practice.”“It was supposed to be. Then Jay’s dad called. Told Jay he had to practice with Liam.”“Wait, Jay’s dad forced him? But those two can’t stand each other.”“Yeah.”“So? What happened?”Noah thought about the tension in the rink, every pass feeling loaded, almost like they’d rather fight than play.“They practiced,” he said. “But it was intense.”“Intense how?”“Like, they weren’t just running drills. It was like they were both trying to outdo each other. Or maybe just rip each other’s heads off.” Noah finally looked at Joe. “Didn’t feel like normal practice. It was personal.”Joe leaned back slowly. “That’s... weird.”“Yeah.”“So, d