Cracks In The Quiet

The first morning at Belle’s house felt like walking on eggshells in someone else’s skin. I woke up in the guest room, the bed too soft, the pillows smelling like lavender detergent instead of home. My home. The one wrapped in police tape, stained with my mom’s blood. I pushed the thought down, my chest tightening, and forced myself out of bed. The clock read 7:12 a.m., December 13th. Ten days until Christmas Eve. Ten days until… whatever the hell those dolls had planned. I shook my head, hard, like I could rattle the thought loose. Not today. I couldn’t deal with that today.

Downstairs, the Forrester house was alive in a way that made my gut twist with something like envy. Belle’s mom, Mrs. Forrester, was flipping pancakes, the kitchen warm with the smell of butter and syrup. Her dad was at the table, reading a newspaper—actual paper, like some old-timey movie. Belle was already there, her hair a messy bun, wearing a hoodie that was probably mine. She smiled when she saw me, soft but careful, like she was afraid I’d break again.

“Morning, Wise,” she said, sliding a plate toward me. “Mom made enough pancakes to feed a football team.”

Mrs. Forrester turned, her apron dusted with flour. “Hope you’re hungry, hon. You need some meat on those bones after…” She trailed off, her smile faltering, and I knew she was thinking about my parents. Everyone was.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sitting down. The pancakes were perfect, golden and fluffy, but they tasted like cardboard in my mouth. I forced a bite, chewing slow, my eyes drifting to the window. Snow fell outside, soft and steady, like the world was pretending everything was fine.

Bella shuffled in, her phone glued to her hand, earbuds dangling. She didn’t look at me, just grabbed a pancake and leaned against the counter, scrolling. For once, she wasn’t smirking or trying to get under my skin. Last night, when she’d held me in the kitchen, her arms around me with Belle’s, I’d seen something else in her—a crack in the armor, a glimpse of someone who wasn’t just Belle’s shadow. But now, she was back to her usual self, closed off, like nothing had happened.

“So,” Belle said, breaking the silence, “school’s back today. You gonna be okay going in?”

I shrugged, poking at my plate. “Don’t have much choice, do I? Can’t exactly sit here feeling sorry for myself forever.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t push. “We’ll stick together. Luca’s meeting us at the corner. He’s probably already whining about the cold.”

I snorted, the first real laugh I’d managed in days. “Sounds like him.”

Mrs. Forrester set down a pitcher of orange juice, her voice gentle. “Wise, you’re welcome here as long as you need. This is your home now, okay?”

The words hit like a punch, not because they weren’t kind, but because they were. Home. The word didn’t fit anymore, not without Mom’s coffee brewing or Dad’s stupid jokes. I nodded, my throat tight, and muttered a thanks.

Bella finally looked up, her eyes flicking to me. “You’re not gonna, like, mope all day, are you?” Her tone was sharp, but there was something underneath it, like she was testing me.

“Bella,” Belle snapped, her fork clattering against her plate.

“What?” Bella shot back, tossing her hair. “I’m just saying, he’s gotta live, right? Can’t keep crying in our kitchen forever.”

“Bella, shut up,” Belle said, her voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get it.”

I clenched my jaw, staring at my plate. Bella wasn’t wrong, but the way she said it made my skin crawl. Like she thought she could fix me with a snap of her fingers. “I’m fine,” I lied, my voice flat. “Let’s just get to school.”

The walk to school was quiet, the snow crunching under our boots. Belle stayed close, her arm brushing mine, her warmth the only thing keeping me grounded. Luca met us at the corner, his jacket zipped to his chin, muttering about how winter was “nature’s middle finger.” He didn’t mention my parents, didn’t ask how I was holding up, and I was grateful. His dumb jokes about the cafeteria food were enough to keep my head above water.

School was a different story. The halls were loud, kids shoving past like nothing had changed, but I felt their stares. Whispers followed me—about the murders, the plane crash, my house turned into a crime scene. I kept my head down, but then I saw him: Dez Carter, leaning against a locker, his smirk sharp enough to cut. He was surrounded by his usual crew, all muscle and ego, but his eyes locked on me like a predator.

“Well, look who’s back,” he called, loud enough for the hall to hear. “The hero himself. What, you done hiding in your girlfriend’s house?”

Belle stiffened beside me, her hand grabbing mine. “Ignore him,” she whispered.

But Dez wasn’t done. He pushed off the locker, sauntering closer. “Heard about your mom, Harrington. Tough break. Guess even heroes can’t save everyone, huh?”

My fists clenched, my nails biting into my palms. The memory of my mom’s blood, her heart, flashed in my head, and I wanted to smash his face in. Luca stepped in front of me, his voice low. “Back off, Dez. Now’s not the time.”

Dez laughed, all teeth and venom. “What, Morales? You his bodyguard now? Or you just waiting for your turn to lose someone?”

Belle tugged my arm, pulling me toward class. “He’s not worth it, Wise.”

I let her drag me away, but Dez’s words stuck, sharp and festering. He wasn’t just being a dick—he was digging at something deeper, like he knew more than he let on. I glanced back, and his smirk hadn’t faded, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t place. It wasn’t just hate. It was… anticipation.

The rest of the day dragged, but the school was buzzing with last-day energy. The winter break was starting tomorrow, and the principal had called a holiday assembly to wrap things up. The gym was packed, kids crammed onto bleachers, teachers trying to keep order while a cheesy Christmas playlist blared. Belle, Luca, and I found a spot near the back, away from the chaos. Belle leaned against me, her shoulder warm against mine, her fingers tracing circles on my hand. It was small, but it kept me tethered.

The assembly was standard—Principal Myers droning about “holiday spirit,” some choir kids butchering “Jingle Bells.” But then I noticed Bella, sitting a few rows down with her clique. She wasn’t laughing or whispering like usual. She kept glancing back at me, her eyes softer than I’d ever seen. Not flirty, not scheming—just… sad. Like she was carrying something heavy. When she caught me looking, she turned away fast, her cheeks red. It threw me. Bella didn’t do vulnerable.

Luca nudged me, nodding toward the stage where Dez was helping set up a projector for some holiday slideshow. “Dude’s acting like he runs the place,” Luca muttered. “Bet he’s just trying to look good for college apps.”

I snorted, but my eyes stayed on Dez. He was joking with a teacher, all charm and smiles, but when he glanced my way, that smirk was back. Sharp. Knowing. Like he was waiting for me to crack.

After the assembly, the halls were a madhouse—kids swapping Secret Santa gifts, signing yearbooks, planning parties. A girl from my math class, Tara, stopped us, her goth eyeliner smudged like she’d been crying. “Hey, Wise,” she said, voice quiet. “I’m… sorry about your parents. If you need anything, I’m around.” She handed me a black beaded bracelet, a shy smile on her face. “Made it myself. Figured you could use something cool.”

I took it, surprised. “Thanks, Tara. That’s… really nice.”

She shrugged and disappeared into the crowd. Belle raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re collecting fans now, huh?”

“Shut up,” I said, slipping the bracelet on. It felt good, though—like a tiny piece of normal in the shitstorm of my life.

As we left the assembly, the chaos spilled into the courtyard, where kids were pelting each other with snowballs, their laughter echoing in the cold air. I hung back, watching, feeling like I was outside it all. Belle squeezed my hand, her eyes searching mine. “You okay?” she asked, her voice low enough that Luca couldn’t hear.

I nodded, but it was a lie. The weight of everything—my parents, Dez’s taunts, the quiet that felt too much like waiting—pressed down on me. Before I could say anything, a snowball hit me square in the chest, powder exploding across my jacket. I spun around, and there was Jaden, a lanky kid from our history class, grinning like an idiot. He was one of Dez’s crew, but not the worst of them—more loudmouth than bully.

“Gotcha, Harrington!” Jaden shouted, already scooping another snowball. “Bet you can’t hit back!”

Luca laughed, grabbing snow. “Oh, you’re done, man!” He hurled one, missing Jaden but nailing some freshman in the shoulder. The courtyard erupted, snow flying everywhere, kids shrieking and dodging.

Belle pulled me into it, her laugh bright and real, and for a second, I let myself go. I packed a snowball and chucked it at Jaden, catching him in the arm. He howled, fake-dramatic, and threw one back. It felt good—stupid, normal, alive. But then I saw Dez, standing at the edge of the courtyard, watching. Not throwing, not laughing—just staring, his smirk gone, his eyes cold as the snow. He held my gaze for too long, then turned and walked away, his crew trailing behind.

“What’s his deal?” Luca muttered, brushing snow off his hair.

“Dunno,” I said, my stomach twisting. “But I don’t like it.”

Belle frowned, following my gaze. “He’s just trying to get in your head, Wise. Don’t let him.”

I nodded, but the unease lingered, sharp as a blade. Dez wasn’t just a jerk. He was planning something, and I had a bad feeling I’d find out what soon enough.

Back at the Forresters’, dinner was another quiet affair. Mrs. Forrester made lasagna, her attempt at comfort food, but I barely tasted it. Belle kept the conversation going, talking about school and break plans, her voice a lifeline. Bella was quieter, picking at her food, her eyes flicking to me now and then. After dinner, I helped clear the table, and Bella lingered, drying dishes beside me.

“You don’t have to keep looking at me like I’m gonna break,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She froze, then shrugged. “I’m not. Just… checking.” Her tone was softer than usual, almost careful. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, you know.”

I stopped, the sponge in my hand dripping. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Forget it. Just… don’t die on us, okay?” She walked away before I could push, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Later that night, Belle knocked on the guest room door, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. She sat on the bed beside me, her knee brushing mine. “School’s done for the year,” she said, handing me a mug. “Feels weird, right? Like we’re supposed to be happy, but…”

“Yeah,” I said, staring into the steam. “Feels like I’m faking it. Like I’m waiting for the next hit.”

She nodded, her eyes soft but steady. “You don’t have to fake it with me, Wise. Whatever you’re feeling—or not feeling—it’s okay. I’m here.”

I looked at her, the warmth in her face cutting through the fog in my chest. “Thanks,” I said, my voice rough. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, small but real, and leaned her head on my shoulder. We sat there, sipping hot chocolate, the silence between us comfortable for once. Outside, the snow kept falling, blanketing the world in a quiet that felt too fragile to trust. Dez’s cold stare, Bella’s cryptic words, Tara’s bracelet, Jaden’s laugh—they all churned in my head, pieces of a life I was trying to hold onto. But deep down, I knew this calm was a lie. Something was coming, and no amount of snowballs or hot chocolate could stop it.