Part I: His Voice
Morning light slips through the curtains of our small apartment.
I was sleeping peacefully until my mom called me for school.
Honestly? I didn't want to go.
Oh, right. I guess I should introduce myself.
Beau Boulbard.
Yes. That Beau.
The "popular guy."
At least that's what everyone calls me.
I live with my mom. My dad's French. He left when I was three, so there's not much to say about that.
Some mornings are exhausting. Even with a uniform, I have to look perfect. The hair. The accessories. The image. That's the real work.
And yeah… I got dumped yesterday.
She caught me flirting. Again.
Apparently, that's unacceptable.
But maintaining a reputation here isn't easy. People expect things from you. You can't just suddenly become invisible.
Still… that slap in front of the whole school? Brutal.
The thing is, I won't lie.
It's getting tiring.
Jumping from girl to girl. Smiling. Flirting. Being "on" all the time.
The guys treat me like I'm their king.
Girls adore me.
People talk about me.
I get gifts.
It's funny.
The attention I get at school?
It almost fills the space that's empty at home.
And I don't hate it.
Who doesn't like being wanted?
But it wasn't always like this.
Back in middle school, I was quiet. Reserved. I didn't even know how to start a conversation. I couldn't defend myself when people messed with me.
Then I met her.
Lily.
She was loud. Brave. Annoyingly honest. She argued with classmates for me when I couldn't open my mouth. She walked home with me that day, talking the entire time while I just listened.
That's how it started.
We began hanging out outside school.
There was this cheeseburger place we went to every week.
Mint ice cream — our favorite.
I liked dolphins for some reason. She chased every stray cat she saw.
One day, she gave me a dolphin keychain.
I gave her a cat one.
We laughed and promised to keep them forever.
She convinced me to change my haircut. Said my forehead and eyes shouldn't hide behind bad styling. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
But I liked it.
People started noticing me.
At first, it was fun. Then it became… addictive.
I made new friends. The loud kind. The confident kind.
The popular table kind.
I still talked to her about everything. She was proud of me.
But slowly… I stopped walking beside her.
One day, she confessed.
I said yes.
I even told her we'd go out the next day.
But that same afternoon, my new friends were talking.
About how I could have anyone now.
About how girls were already watching me.
About how this was "my era."
And I chose that.
The attention.
The image.
The feeling of finally being someone.
I didn't show up.
When I went later, she was already gone.
She never answered my calls after that.
At school, we became strangers.
Back then, it didn't seem important.
My status was rising. I was sitting at the cool table. Girls were clinging to me. I was "The Guy."
But sometimes… in crowded hallways…
I can still tell when she's nearby.
I wait for her to turn around.
To look at me.
To see how far I've come.
She never does.
This morning, as I walk into school, I think…
Maybe I should say hi.
Not here, though.
Maybe in the garden.
Somewhere no one can see me.