The First Crack in the Snowglobe

The score was 2-2, a deadlock that turned every second into a battlefield. My lungs burned as I sprinted up the field, the crowd's roar crashing over me like a wave. The ref glanced at his watch, his whistle halfway to his lips. This was it—our final attack, the last chance to win.

I pushed forward, staying just behind Luca and Dez as the play developed. My mind was racing, breaking down the game like a reel on repeat. Dez Carter had lit up the first half with a goddamn bicycle kick, twisting through the air like it was his stage, his moment. One of those goals made you hate him even more for how effortless he made it look. That’s Dez—chaos, raw talent, and instincts so sharp they felt unnatural.

Then there was Luca Morales, who’d answered with precision. He didn’t need flair when he had that cannon of a leg. His shot from thirty yards out curved through the air like it had a mission, slamming into the top corner of the net before anyone saw it coming. Clinical. Perfect.

They should’ve been the dream duo—Dez’s chaos and Luca’s strategy. But they’d been stepping on each other’s toes ever since those goals. Dez always knew where the ball would land, and Luca always knew how to get there first. They collided more times than I could count, their frustration growing with every missed opportunity.

And now, here we were. The final seconds. Dez and Luca were up ahead, already jostling for position in the box as the cross came sailing in. Their shoulders bumped, their elbows jabbed, each of them desperate to claim the spotlight.

I stayed back, watching, my mind teetering between two thoughts: They’re going to screw this up again and This is it.

And then, suddenly, something inside me clicked.

The world sharpened into focus. I saw the gap, the tiniest sliver of space between Dez and Luca. They were so caught up in their battle that they didn’t even notice it. Before I could think, my legs were moving, sprinting toward the opening.

Time slowed as I surged between them, squeezing through the tight gap like a thread through a needle. Dez yelled something—probably a curse—and Luca’s eyes widened in shock, but it didn’t matter. The ball was there, hanging in the air, waiting for me.

My body moved on instinct. A leap, a twist, and then the solid, electrifying crack of my boot meeting the ball.

It flew past the keeper, slamming into the back of the net.

The stadium erupted.

I hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum, the grass scraping against my arms. My chest heaved as I stared up at the sky, the noise around me muffled by the adrenaline roaring in my ears. For a second, I couldn’t move. All I could think was, What the hell just happened?

Luca’s voice snapped me out of it. “Wise! Get up, man!” He jogged over, reaching out a hand to pull me to my feet. His face was somewhere between disbelief and awe. “What the fuck was that? How did you even—”

Before he could finish, Dez stormed over, his face twisted in fury. “What the fuck, Harrington?” he barked, shoving me back a step. “That was my goal! You stole it!”

I stumbled my hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Bullshit!” Dez snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. “That was mine, you little shit! You think you’re some kind of hero now?”

“Dez, chill the hell out,” Luca said, stepping between us. His tone was calm, but his body language said he was ready to break up a fight.

“Stay out of this, Morales!” Dez shouted, his fists clenched like he was seconds away from swinging.

A whistle cut through the tension. “That’s enough!” Coach’s voice boomed from the sidelines. He marched over, his glare shutting Dez up before he could do anything more. “Save it for practice. And Harrington—hell of a goal. You saved us out there.”

The coach’s words felt like a lifeline, but they only seemed to fuel Dez’s rage. He glared at me like he was already planning my funeral, then stormed off toward the locker room.

A familiar voice called out as I headed off the field, weaving through the crowd. “Nice goal, Wise!”

I turned to see Belle Forrester leaning against the bleachers, her scarf pulled tight around her neck. Her smile was warm, but something was teasing in her tone as she added, “And great assists to Dez. You’re good at making other people look better.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if she was joking or flirting. Either way, my face burned. “Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, trying not to trip over my own words.

She laughed softly, her breath fogging in the cold air. “I’m serious. That was amazing.”

I wanted to stay, to say something witty that didn’t make me sound like an idiot, but before I could, Luca appeared at my side, his hand gripping my arm. “Come on, man. Dez is gonna kill you if you don’t move.”

Belle waved as we left, her smile lingering in my mind as I let Luca pull me toward the locker room.

Inside, I moved fast, stripping out of my uniform and throwing my gear into my bag like I was racing against the clock. Dez’s voice echoed from the other end of the room, loud and angry, his lackeys hyping him up with laughter.

“HARRINGTON!” Dez’s shout made my stomach drop just as I zipped my bag. Without thinking, I bolted for the door.

The cold hit me like a slap as I sprinted across campus, Dez’s lackeys hot on my heels. Their shouts and curses rang out behind me, but I didn’t dare look back.

“Get back here, you little shit!” one of them yelled.

My legs burned as I darted toward the woods, the trees looming like shadows in the fading light. Branches whipped at my face, roots threatened to trip me up, but I kept going, dodging and weaving like my life depended on it.

Finally, I saw it—the old oak tree. Without hesitation, I grabbed the trunk and started climbing, my hands and feet finding the familiar grooves. It wasn’t just a tree—it was a sanctuary, a platform my friends and I had built years ago, hidden high in the branches.

I hauled myself up and crouched on the platform, pressing my back against the trunk as I tried to quiet my breathing. Below, I could hear them shouting and stomping through the brush.

“Where the hell is he?” one of them growled.

“He always disappears here,” another muttered. “Little shit’s probably up a tree again.”

“Fucking hell,” one of them snapped. “I’ll find him next time. Let’s go.”

Their voices faded, and I finally let out a breath.

The adrenaline drained away, leaving me exhausted. My thoughts drifted back to the game, to the goal, to Belle. Her smile flashed in my mind, and for some reason, it made me smile too.

The platform creaked slightly under my weight as I leaned back, my breath fogging the cold air. The lackeys had given up—at least for now—but my heart was still racing. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to process everything.

Then, faintly, I heard it. Dez’s voice.

“Wise!” he called his tone sharp and biting. “Come on out, you little shit! I know you’re here.”

My stomach tightened. I pressed my back into the tree trunk, holding my breath. His footsteps crunched through the leaves below, slow and deliberate. The lackeys had left, but Dez wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“He always fucking disappears here,” he muttered, the frustration clear in his voice. “Every goddamn time.”

“Yeah, maybe he built himself a secret hideout or some shit,” one of the lackeys replied, his voice farther away.

“Next time, we’re smoking him out,” Dez growled. “Fucking rat.”

I stayed perfectly still, the bark digging into my back. It felt like forever before their voices faded completely, the woods swallowing the sound. I let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees.

“That was close,” I muttered.

I needed a moment to steady myself, to breathe. My thoughts drifted back to the game, the goal. The way I’d moved—it didn’t feel like me. It felt like I was someone else for a second, someone sharper, faster, more focused. Like the world had slowed just for me. I’d never felt anything like it.

“And then there’s Belle,” I muttered, the memory of her voice tugging at the corners of my mind. “You’re good at making other people look better.” My face warmed, and I groaned, burying it in my hands. Was she… flirting? No. She was probably just being nice. Belle was like that.

But what if she wasn’t?

The thought hung there, lingering in the cold air. My eyelids felt heavy, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a wave. I shifted on the platform, letting my body relax, and before I knew it, I was out.

“Wise…”

The voice was soft, familiar, and entirely too close. My eyes fluttered open, and my brain short-circuited. Belle’s face was inches from mine.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I stared into her wide, brown eyes. Her cheeks were pink from the cold—or maybe something else—and her lips parted slightly like she was about to say something.

Neither of us moved.

Then, suddenly, Luca’s voice cut through the quiet. “Yo, Wise! You up there, or did Dez finally kill you?”

The sound jolted me out of whatever trance I was in. My body jerked, and in my rush to move, my lips brushed against Belle’s.

It was barely a touch, the faintest accidental graze, but it was enough to send us both recoiling. “Shit!” I muttered, my face burning.

Belle’s hand shot out, grabbing my arm as I nearly slipped off the platform. “Careful!” she said quickly, her face flushed red. She pulled me back to safety, her grip strong despite the tension radiating between us.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze as we climbed down.

Luca was waiting at the base of the tree, leaning casually against the trunk. He raised an eyebrow as we hit the ground. “Sleeping up there, huh? Didn’t know trees had hotel rooms.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, brushing leaves off my jeans. “I was tired, okay?”

“From the game or running for your life?” Luca smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

“Both,” I said flatly. “Just needed some shut-eye.”

Belle smiled softly, her voice cutting in before Luca could say something else. “You were out for an hour, Wise. Your mom’s gonna start freaking out if you don’t head home soon.”

“An hour?” I repeated, glancing up at the darkening sky. The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall, specks against the bare branches.

“Yeah,” Luca said, tilting his head back. “It’s normal. Christmas is coming.”

At the mention of Christmas, my mood soured. My jaw tightened as my thoughts drifted to my parents, to the arguments that always seemed to erupt this time of year. My dad would be working away again, probably prepping for some “big deal” that couldn’t wait until after the holidays. And my mom? She’d smile through it all, pretending like the house wasn’t crumbling around her.

Belle must’ve noticed the change in my expression because she nudged my shoulder gently. “Hey, don’t look so gloomy. The town festival’s coming up. We should go.”

I frowned. “Festival?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice brightening. “It’s gonna be great. Lights everywhere, good food, music—come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know…” I started, but before I could finish, Luca cut in.

“I’m in,” he said immediately. “Sounds way better than sitting at home. If Wise doesn’t want to go, I’ll just go with you, Belle.”

I shot him a glare, but Belle ignored it, her attention focused on me. “Come on, Wise. It won’t be the same without you.”

Her smile was soft, hopeful, and annoyingly hard to say no to. I sighed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Her face lit up, and for a second, I forgot why I’d been in a bad mood at all. “Yes!” she said, practically bouncing. “You’re not going to regret it.”

We walked back to the school together, the tension from earlier fading into something lighter. Luca cracked jokes about Dez’s temper, and Belle teased him about his “hero complex,” which only made him puff out his chest more. I stayed quiet for the most part, but their back-and-forth was oddly comforting. Normal.

When we reached the bike rack, Luca grabbed his bike, pausing to glance back at us. “See you losers tomorrow. Don’t let Dez hunt you down again, Wise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, waving him off as he pedaled away.

Belle and I grabbed our bikes next, falling into an easy rhythm as we started the ride home. The snow was falling harder now, blanketing the streets in white, and the air was cold enough to sting my face.

“So,” Belle said, her voice breaking the quiet. “What do you think of the festival?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m not a festival kind of guy.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re not a Christmas kind of guy, either, but I’m still dragging you along.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

She smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

When we reached her house, she hopped off her bike, turning to me with that same soft smile. “Thanks for biking with me. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “See you.”

I watched her disappear inside, the glow of the Christmas lights on her porch reflecting in the snow. By the time I got home, the warmth of the house felt almost suffocating.

“I’m home,” I called out, kicking off my shoes. The silence that greeted me wasn’t surprising, but it still stung.

I sighed, heading to my room and flopping onto my bed. My thoughts drifted back to Belle, to her smile, to the brief brush of her lips against mine. I didn’t know what to make of it, but for the first time that day, I smiled.