6Shay
It had been two days since the party, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about Landon and those gloomy eyes of his. As he stood in the middle of his kitchen, frozen in place, I knew he was wrapped deep in a panic attack. I used to have them, too, whenever Dad was out dealing—or on the nights when he never made it home. I’d become paralyzed, and each breath would be harder and harder to take. I’d imagine the worst-case scenarios: Him passed out in a ditch. Him getting involved in a shootout. Him getting killed. Killing others. It felt like the walls were closing in, and there was no escape at all.
I knew what caused my anxiety, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the cause was behind Landon’s. It blew my mind how he could stand in a room, surrounded by dozens of people who claimed to be his friends, and no one even noticed his pain.
Except me.
I saw it, and I worried about it, even though it wasn’t my place to worry. I worried so much, I reached out to Greyson to find out a little more about it. I was certain he was thrown off by me asking about Landon, seeing as how I’d never cared about the guy in the past, but seeing his sadness, seeing it leaking from his heart and knowing that same pain, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t mentally be OK with having a stupid bet with Landon if his pieces were already shattered.
At first, I got kind of elated about the idea of the bet. It feltlike a fun challenge, because it was highlighting each of our true talents. Landon’s gift was physical attraction.
My talent was the complete opposite. While he excelled at his looks, I was a master at emotions. I was a storyteller, and as such, I’d spent the past several years of my life learning how to study people. Everyone I encountered became a character to me. I learned their ins and outs. I wrote down their traits in my many notebooks. I studied why they were the way they were, what drove them, what inspired them, what made them tick. I asked them questions. I engaged with them because they all fascinated me so much. I was a people person by nature. It was my gift—seeing people from all sides, all angles. I’d learned early on that there aren’t any real villains in life, just heroes who have been beaten down for so long they’ve forgotten they have the ability to be good.
I wondered how the whole bet would turn out with Landon. Making my sworn enemy love me seemed like a decent way to mock Landon for the rest of his life. Plus, someday down the line, I could base a character on him and his complexities.
That was, until I spoke to Greyson and learned the truth about Landon’s struggles.
“He’s not OK lately, and I don’t think he’s been sleeping,” he told me. “He’s one of my best friends, and I see it all. Ever since Lance died, he hasn’t been OK, and Saturday was Lance’s birthday, so I know that triggered some of his issues. I know you two have your own hate and stuff, Shay, but Landon is a good guy. He’s just lost, that’s all.”
Those words from Greyson made the game less fun in my mind. It felt cruel, almost, to play a game with someone who was so broken.
I went over to Landon’s house two days after talking toGreyson. His words stayed with me as I rang the doorbell. That morning, I wasn’t sure who was going to open the door. Would I get the sad, broken Landon or the cold, distant one I usually interacted with?
“Hey, Landon,” I said when he opened the door.
He appeared thrown off by seeing me standing there. I had to admit, I was caught off guard, too. Never in my life had I thought I’d be walking up to Landon of all people and saying hi to him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I wanted to say... we can call off the bet. With everything going on...” My words faded. His life was messy enough; the last thing he needed was to keep up with some stupid bet. He had bigger issues to deal with.
“What do you mean ‘with everything going on’?” His voice was smoky, deep, and still made the hairs on my body stand straight up, even if it was only eight in the morning.
“Well, Greyson told me about it being Lance’s birthday this past weekend, and—”
“What? You afraid of losing?” he said, cutting in, but I’d seen the small flinch in his body when I had mentioned his uncle.
“No. I figured you had bigger issues to handle.”
“There’s nothing in my life that needs to be handled,” he said, closing the distance between us. “So don’t try to put that on me. If you want to forfeit the challenge, then by all means, quit. But I’ll be damned if I’m the one to cut it off, because I’m no chicken.”
“Landon, you’re still mourning the death of your uncle. You’re not OK.”
“You don’t have to tell me things I already know,” he replied, his voice dripping in a low smokiness. To my knowledge,Landon didn’t smoke, but his voice was so raspy at times, you’d think he did.
“Yeah, but... well, that’s a lot on its own. Plus, with the anniversary of his death coming up in a few months...”
His jaw tightened and he took a step backward. “Look, Chick, I don’t want or need your pity. I ain’t some charity case, OK? I don’t need Little Miss Perfect to fix my life.”
“I’m not trying to fix your life, Landon, and I’m not perfect—”
“Yeah, whatever. If you’re backing out of the challenge, cool. I didn’t expect you to follow through anyway. I knew you wouldn’t have it in you, but don’t come acting like you’re doing me some favor by dropping out. I’m still one hundred percent certain I’d win.”
I studied him. Not just the words he was saying but how he was moving. How his fingers fidgeted. How his crooked smile frowned.
Greyson’s words floated through my head as I looked at Landon.
He’s the kind of sad you only notice if you look closely enough.