Flashback
“What do you like, then?” Charlotte teased, arms crossed. “In girls?”
Sahara’s younger voice, unscarred, teasing filled the memory.
“I like… painted nails. My mom loves painting hers.”
A spark.
A birthday-candle wish that refused to go out, even when everything else dimmed.
Back in the present, Charlotte’s eyes brightened as if she’d caught that same spark.
“Can you do my nails?” she asked.
Charlie blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah.” She laughed lightly. “They look so neat.”
He smiled, fishing through his backpack until the faint click of nail-polish bottles sounded.
“Meet me in Room 203 after school. I’ll do them there.”
Charlotte nodded. “I was going there anyway. That’s the art club room, right?”
“Yeah. You’re joining?”
She grinned. “I am now. I’m finally free.”
Her laughter trailed down the hallway as she left, the word free lingering in the air like perfume.
Charlie stared after her, wondering what freedom felt like.
The Art Room
Afternoon light painted the room gold. Canvases leaned against the walls, and the faint smell of paint thinner hung in the air.
Charlotte sat by the window, bent over a mannequin draped with muslin and thread.
“Hey,” she said, looking up. “You came.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, setting their bag down. “Still want your nails done?”
“Actually…” She turned the sketchbook toward him.
Inside were drawings—soft lines, fabrics swirling like dreams. “I want to be a fashion designer.”
“They’re beautiful,” Charlie breathed. “You’d make me want to wear them.”
Charlotte blinked, surprised. “You’d wear my designs?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I’d like to. I’ve… always wanted to.”
Her smile widened, warm and knowing. “You’d look perfect in them.”
For a moment, the world felt safe for truth.
Charlotte walked out, packing her things.
“Thanks for coming.” She smiled, “Have a great day Charlie!”
Charlie put their items back in their bag, with a grin “Yeah, no problem.”
A yank came from her scalp.
Fear paralyzed her.
“Jacob?” She winced, her hands defensively in front of her face,
Her brother chuckled, holding her by her hair.
“Why the fuck are you hanging around him?”
His words cut like thorns,
He scoffed, “That weirdo. The only reason he’s on the team is because he’s best friends with the team captain.”
Charlotte tried to escape but she realized how weak she was.
It was like a snake was trying to kill a mouse.
She glared, “Let me go, Jacob.”
He sneered, “The fuck you say? I’ll do what I want. Did that bastard trick you into thinking you can save yourself? That you’re free or-”
Jacob flew backwards as someone threw themselves at him, letting go of her hair.
She shut her eyes, afraid he’d really hurt her.
“You okay?”
A familiar voice calmly asked,
She moved her arms and opened her eyes.
Snow.
He almost looked like a knight in shining armour.
He carefully looked at her face, almost like he was analyzing it.
Jacob stumbled to the floor, his nose bleeding.
He screamed out in pain.
Snow turned to him.
“You’re one sick fuck. You think it’s cool to abuse your own sister?” His voice cracked in anger.
Jacob ran off, afraid of any more conflict.
He growled under his breath, “What a coward,” Snow turned to look at Charlotte,
She smiled, a faint blush on her face. “Thank you.”
Snow sighed.
“I’ll walk you home. That guy isn’t gonna give up anytime soon.”
She took out a balm, “Give your hand,”
Snow’s eyebrow perked up, “Huh?”
She reached for his arm, slowly applying balm onto his bruised arm,
“You don’t fight.” She chuckled, “What if he seriously tried to fight back?”
Snow shrugged, “Guess I would keep trying to fight back. I might get beaten up but at least it was a fair fight.”
She elbowed him.
“Who’s to say if I fought it wouldn’t be a fair fight? I can tell you don’t know how to correctly throw a punch, but that bodyslam was pretty smart.”
Snow chuckled. “Then you do? Why don’t you fight back?”
Charlotte’s smile dimmed. “I just..don’t fight my family. Y’know?”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t a polite question. I wasn’t trying to-”
Charlotte shook her head, “It’s fine. I understand. Now come on, we’ve got to get a move on.”
Silently, they walked until they began to reach close to her home.
“Charlotte, do you know anything about Sahara?” He looked at the flowers,
She grinned, “Yeah. I know a lot about him. He might seem closed-off but he’s really just a nice guy.”
“Do you know a woman named Sarah Addams?” He pointed at the house across from Sahara’s,
She shook her head.
“No. I didn’t know anything about her. Sahara used to go over at her house, he told me. I don’t remember anything else about her, though.”
He shrugged, “Oh well. I should mind my own business.”
She chuckled, “It’s too late to do that now. You’ve brought yourself into mine, now.”
Her father waved hello over by my porch.
“Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” He looked at his daughter,
She shook her head, “Just a friend.”
Snow waved.
Charlotte turned into the door, her father chuckling, his face slightly red.
Snow turned away, pinching his nose.
It was the smell of beer.
Charlie knocked on her window, holding the nail polish in hand.
Charlotte opened her window with a shushing gesture.
“So you want the same colors as me?” They opened the bag,
She shook her head.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
Slowly, they drew a stroke of paint onto her nails,
“Is your brother Jacob?”
She shook her head slowly.
“I’m sorry-”
They looked up at her,
“Why are you apologizing?”
She paused, turning away.
“I thought he’d done something to you.”
Charlie chuckled.
“I’d be lying if I said he didn’t do something. But you don’t have to apologize for his actions, y’know?”
Charlotte sighed.
“He’s my family. I’m older so I have to take responsibility for his mistake as his sister.”
Charlie opened the blue nail polish, the pink bottle clicking.
A loud bang came from the living room.
“Dad?” Charlotte looked to the door.
Charlie put the nail polish away and hid under her bed.
Charlotte opened the door, a loud gasp.
Her father had collapsed.
Charlie ran out to check on her, her knees nailed to the ground, tears forming.
“He’s cold.” She sobbed,
Charlie dialed 911 as quickly as possible.
Her father opened his eyes later in the white room.
“Where am I…”
Charlotte stopped silently praying, Charlie called her over.
“He’s awake.”
“Dad?” She stood over him, looking at him like he was most precious thing ever,
“Ah, Charlotte. My darling. I hope you aren’t stuck here looking after this old man.”
She hugged him, silently muttering.
He chuckled, “Alright, Alright, it’s okay I’m alive.”
He looked at Charlie, “I see you’ve made a new friend,”
He eyed the nails, “Exotic huh? You don’t see that around these parts.”
He smiled,
Charlie politely smiled back.
Charlotte sat back down.
“Dad. You need to quit drinking. If you don’t, next time you won’t wake up.”
She bit back the tears the best she could, “And I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”
“I don’t know what to do without your mother. You’ve grown up to be a wonderful young lady, but I think it’s time you focus on yourself, Charlotte. Look for a strong man so you can both lean off each other. “
He wiped a tear.
“I think I’ll be happy then. Knowing you're in good hands.”
Charlie turned to leave, realizing that this was a private matter.
Jacob stood outside, his foot on the wall.
Everything had gone to shit.
That bastard, he dares threaten him?
Did everyone think he was a weakling?
His face contoured with anger.
Charlie walked out the room.
He pinned them to the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Why are-”
Charlie pushed him off.
“I was in the area.”
Jacob glared, “So you were just in my fucking house huh? Don’t try that shit on me. If you try anything on my sister or father or even say-”
Charlie put their hand on his shoulder, “You idiot. I’ll say whatever I want. You’re a hypocrite, thinking I’d try something worse then-”
They sighed and scoffed, “I can’t get worse than a chicken like you.”
They pushed him aside and walked away.
The Whispers
The next day, the murmurs began.
“Why are his nails painted?”
“Is that some dare?”
“What the hell’s wrong with him?”
“Is he gay?”
Each whisper felt like a pinprick beneath the skin, a slow invisible bleeding.
But somewhere beneath the sting, a quiet warmth stayed alive
someone had seen them, and liked their art.
Liked them.
“Hey, Charlie!”
Justin threw an arm around their shoulders, the scent of sweat and soap clinging to him. “What’s with the nails? Showing school spirit? Blue and pink, those are our colors, right?”
Charlie’s throat tightened. “My cousin did them,” they lied quickly. “Pretty, right?”
Justin grinned. “I think they’re great.”
They smiled back, not sure if he was serious.
He always smiled that way, sun-bright, impossible to read.
Justin was everything easy and admired: extroverted, kind, the boy people trusted.
Charlie wondered if he’d still smile like that if he knew the truth.
“Come on, idiots!” Alex’s voice barked from the court. “Coach is waiting!”
Jacob hit the locker hard.
“So? Where the fuck is he? You said you could bring him.” The other boys chuckled among themselves,
Emil ran in-front, “I’m sorry! It’s my fault!” He turned his face, ready for a hit,
Jacob got up, “Emil why-”
“Look at these two. Are you his boyfriend or something? Covering for him like it’s a big deal,”
The main guy walked forward.
“I’ll drop this for now. But if that bastard Charlie is off the team by next week, you know what will happen.” He smiled as if Charlie’s disappearance would bring him great joy,
The Classroom
Snow’s desk sat empty. The sunlight on its surface looked almost lonely.
The classroom buzzed quietly with pencils scratching, pages turning, and the hum of the old radiator. Yet the absence beside him pressed louder than all of it.
It almost felt like before Snow, before the laughter that had somehow crept back into his days.
Was he lonely?
The question made him frown.
His reflection in the window looked confused, a little lost.
He didn’t even know what loneliness was supposed to feel like anymore.
Maybe he’d been a bit too harsh on Snow.
That regret lingered in the back of his mind just like a ghost which refused to die.
“Turn in your homework,” Mrs. Heather said, pointing toward the bin.
Sahara blinked, blank sheet staring back at him. “Homework?”
Charlotte placed her neatly written paper in the pile and sat down beside him.
“Where’s Snow?” she whispered.
He shrugged. “No clue.”
Mrs. Heather crossed her arms. “Sahara, did you not do the homework again?”
He sighed, resting his head on the desk. “Sorry.”
“I’m contacting your parents,” she said.
He sat up fast. “You’re kidding.”
She stepped out, phone already in hand.
Charlotte leaned over, a mischievous smile tugging her lips. “Does she even have the right number?”
Sahara smirked. “No.”
Charlotte stifled a laugh.
Moments later the door banged open.
Mrs. Heather’s tone was final. “Sahara, you’re leaving early. You’re going to Snow’s house to study. Midterms are next week.”
He stared. “What?”
“No arguments.” She dropped a packet of review sheets on his desk. “Now go.”
The Street
The wind was biting, carrying the smell of wet pavement. Sahara shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked.
A voice called behind him. “Hey.”
Charlotte’s brother stood by the fence in his basketball jacket, bouncing a ball idly against the sidewalk.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Going to study,” Sahara replied.
“With who?”
“Snow.”
The ball stilled. “Keep her out of this mess.”
Sahara’s jaw tightened. “What mess did you make now? It’s not her job to clean them up.”
A muscle twitched in the younger boy’s cheek. The silence between them sharpened
until a whistle shrieked from the gym.
“Practice, now!” the coach roared.
Charlotte’s brother shot Sahara one last glare before jogging off.
Sahara exhaled, heart thudding, and kept walking.
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