Chapter 6 Behind her smile

Jace

“You’ve been staring at your notebook for five minutes.”

Sean’s voice pulled me away from the page I’d been pretending to read.

I looked up.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I was studying.”

He leaned back in his chair and laughed.

“No, you weren’t.”

Around us, the library buzzed with quiet conversations as students worked through homework or pretended to. The final bell had rung almost half an hour ago, yet hardly anyone seemed eager to leave during the first week back.

Sean slid into the chair across from me, dropping his history textbook onto the table.

“You’ve been on the same paragraph since I got here.”

I closed the notebook.

“What do you want?”

Sean rested his chin against his hand, studying me with an expression that immediately put me on guard.

“I saw you leave the library yesterday.”

“So?”

“You and Kenzie looked…” He searched for the right word. “Different.”

“There wasn’t anything different.”

“You didn’t argue?”

“We did.”

“Oh really?”

I looked away.

Sean waited for me to speak but when it became obvious I wasn’t planning to say anything else, he sighed.

“I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“You’ve spent almost a week acting like she personally declared war on you.”

“I have my reasons.”

“I know you do.”

“No,” I said. “You know part of the story.”

His expression softened.

“I know enough to understand that you need to let it go.”

I almost laughed.

No…..he didn’t. Nobody did. Nobody knew what it felt like walking back into school after everything happened, feeling every pair of eyes following me through the hallways even when nobody actually said anything. Nobody remembered how quickly one moment could spread until it became the only thing people associated with your name.

One stupid afternoon and one stupid mistake was all it took.

People moved on but I never did.

“You ever think,” Sean said, “that maybe whatever happened… wasn’t exactly the way you remember it?”

I looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m saying we were fifteen.”

“And?”

“We were idiots.”

“I wasn’t imagining it.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

He leaned forward.

“I’m saying maybe she’s not the same person she was back then.”

I shook my head.

“People don’t change that much.”

Sean smiled faintly.

“Really?”

I frowned.

“You think military school didn’t change you?”

I didn’t have an answer. Because military school didn’t believe in excuses. The first morning started at five, but by the third week, five o’clock felt late.

Every day followed the same routine, wake up before sunrise, make the bed so perfectly a coin could bounce off the sheets, run until your lungs burned, attend classes, train again, study until lights out, then wake up and do it all over again.

There were no second chances, no shortcuts, no room for mistakes.

The first time I’d answered an instructor with even the slightest hint of attitude, I’d spent the next hour doing push-ups in the rain while everyone else ate dinner.

After that…

I stopped talking unless someone asked me a question.

The place had a way of sanding pieces off people.

Every punishment made you quieter, every routine made you harder. Eventually, discipline stopped feeling forced. It became instinct.

My father called it growth. Sometimes I wondered if it was just survival.

“You disappeared again.”

Sean’s voice dragged me back.

“What?”

“You’ve been doing that a lot.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’ve been tired for three years Jace? C’mon bro.”

I stood, sliding my notebook into my backpack.

“Practice starts in twenty minutes.”

Sean watched me for another moment before following.

“You know,” he said as we left the library, “I can’t tell if it’s just the memories casing you to think.”

I looked at him.

“Or there’s something specific about Kenzie you hate.”

I didn’t bother answering because arguing with Sean was exhausting. Mostly because he had an annoying habit of asking questions I didn’t want to think about.

Practice was worse than yesterday. I needed to blow off steam, which meant everyone needed to work extra hard.

Coach Thompson must’ve decided we’d gotten too comfortable overnight because the second we stepped onto the field, he split us into stations and doubled every conditioning drill we’d done the day before.

By the end of the first hour, jerseys were soaked through with sweat, conversations had died out, and nobody had enough energy left to complain.

“Again!” Coach shouted.

A collective groan spread across the field.

“I didn’t say groan. I said again.”

The whistle shrieked through the air.

I caught the football Tony fired toward me and immediately pivoted, sending it to Logan before sprinting toward the opposite end zone.

“Faster!” Coach barked.

The ball came back.

I caught it cleanly.

“Good,” I called, nodding toward one of the younger receivers. “Keep your hands up. Don’t wait for the ball, attack it.”

He adjusted immediately.

The next pass stuck.

“There you go.”

A small grin crossed his face before he jogged back into line.

Coach watched the exchange without interrupting.

The drills continued for another forty-five minutes before we finally moved into scrimmages. Every missed assignment was corrected on the spot, every sloppy tackle repeated until it was clean, every lazy effort called out before it had a chance to become a habit.

Nobody escaped criticism. Not even me.

“Ryder!”

Coach’s whistle stopped everyone.

I turned.

“You saw the opening before the throw.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“So why’d you hesitate?”

I replayed the play in my head.

“The linebacker shifted.”

“And?”

“I second-guessed the read.”

“Don’t.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Again.”

The play reset.

This time I released the ball the moment my receiver cut across the middle.

Touchdown.

Coach gave a single nod before blowing the whistle again.

“Better.”

Two hours later, practice finally ended.

Most of the team lingered around the benches, laughing between exhausted breaths while stripping off shoulder pads and arguing over who had been hit the hardest.

Tony tossed his helmet into his bag.

“Burgers?”

Logan immediately pointed at him.

“You ask that after every practice.”

“And?”

“You’ve got commitment.”

“It’s called consistency.”

Sean looked at me.

“You coming?”

I shook my head.

“I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“You always have somewhere to be.”

Tony laughed.

“I swear this guy has meetings with the President after school.”

“I’d still be late.”

They rolled their eyes in perfect unison before heading toward the parking lot, their voices fading into the distance.

I lingered behind for another minute, waiting until the field had almost emptied before slinging my duffel over my shoulder.

The drive home would’ve taken fifteen minutes if I went the usual way.

Instead, traffic forced me through downtown.

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as another red light stopped the line of cars.

The diner on the corner looked busy.

Families filled the booths near the windows while waitresses moved quickly between tables carrying trays loaded with food.

I wasn’t paying much attention until a familiar flash of strawberry-blonde hair caught my eye.

Kenzie.

She balanced two plates effortlessly along one arm while scribbling an order onto her notepad with the other, weaving through the crowded diner without slowing down once.

For a moment, I wondered if I was looking at the wrong person.

The cheerleader everyone knew never talked about having a job or ever complained about work after practice. She never mentioned rushing somewhere every afternoon. Or maybe I just didn’t know her well enogh to hsve that information.

The light stayed red.

I watched her disappear through the kitchen doors before returning less than a minute later with another tray.

She didn’t stop moving.

Not once.

An older woman sitting near the front window leaned toward the person across from her.

Even through the glass, I could recognize the look. The sideways glance, the lowered voice.

Then another customer looked toward Kenzie.

Another whisper, another glance.

But Kenzie kept smiling.

She greeted the next table exactly the same way she had the last one, thanked them politely, wrote down their order, and walked away as though she hadn’t noticed.

But I knew she heard them. I could tell by the way her smile disappeared the second she turned her back.

The traffic finally started moving.

I should’ve driven away.

Instead, I pulled into the small parking lot across the street.

I wasn’t even sure why.

Maybe curiosity, maybe boredom. Maybe I just wanted proof that she wasn’t as innocent as everyone seemed to think.

From where I stood outside the car, I could see almost the entire dining area through the front windows.

A middle-aged man stopped Kenzie beside his table.

She smiled politely.

He said something I couldnt quite hear.

Her smile faltered for the smallest fraction of a second before she recovered so quickly most people would’ve missed it.

She apologized for something she clearly hadn’t done.

The man waved her away dismissively.

Kenzie nodded anyway.

Then she carried on serving the next table like nothing had happened.

For the first time since coming back to Westbrook, I found myself wondering whether pretending was something she did because she wanted to or because she’d gotten so used to hiding parts of her life that she no longer knew how to stop.

Another customer walked in. It was her brother, Blake. He said something to her and I noticed her shoulders drop.

She reached for her pockets and took out all the money she

had. She counted it before realizing it wasn’t enough and just gave it all to him.

He smiled and hugged her.

For a moment, she turned towards the windows.

I turned around so quickly I almost tripped.

I didn’t stop to check if she saw me and headed straight for my car.

I zoomed off just silently praying she didn’t notice me.