Both his Uncle and Dad were gravely disappointed in him, as they made sure to highlight, underline and circle. He was no longer invited to his Uncle’s for mediocre plates of chicken rice, and his father’s facade of compassion dropped, returning to his usual aloofness. The house returned to its cold silence, eliminating any warmth for connection.

Even Joe took notice, weighed down by its effect for the first time. The way he played with his train set in silence haunted Sam, watching his brother’s aura darken before his eyes. He knew this phenomenon well, experiencing it himself years before.

He had to save Joe, before Joe became like him, racked with insecurity and desperately reaching out in complete silence. He sat next to him, trying to psych him up for another zombie invasion scenario, but that didn’t seem to entice him whatsoever.

“Joe, look, I’m a zombie… rawr-” He imitated a zombie with more effort than ever before. It only induced a light chuckle. Joe continued to rock the train back and forth in monotony, his eyes coloured as black as death itself. Sam found himself shattered across the floor.

His worst nightmare unfolds before his eyes as his father’s venom combined with his slowly seeps onto Joe like a parasite, corrupting the host with ease. All of a sudden, Joe tosses the train aside, the plastic clacking across the carpet floor before sliding to the kitchen, then he dismantles the train set, and puts it aside. He climbs atop the couch and switches the television on, watching a soap opera mind-numbingly.

“Joe… hey, you wanna go to the mall? Buy some new toys?”

“You said we were poor.”

He wanted to slap himself for doing so.

“Well, we can still play with it for a while. Hm… or how about… the beach? You wanna go to the beach?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I’ll bring you this weekend! I promise.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Really?”

“I swear. I’ll bring you to the beach, and you can see for yourself how salty the ocean is. We can build sandcastles!”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really!”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.” He dismissed, woefully distrustful of Sam’s promise.

“For now, rawr- I’ve infected you with the virus!” He tried again.

“Pew… you died. The zombies lose.” Joe’s lips flatlined.

**

“So, I talked to the discipline committee, and we decided to kill two birds with one stone. You will get an interview, and you will have to show us why you deserve a second chance to become the leader of the club again, okay? I will be there, and a member from the discipline team will also be there.” Ms. Eva informed Sam. Her desk had photos of her wedding, where she looked nothing like herself in the present day. Her smile was as wide as the sun wrapped in her husband’s arm, and he wondered if he could ever embrace any girl like that. Maybe he could, but they simply won’t smile.

“Sam?”

“Yeah… ok, when’s the- the interview?”

“In a week or so. We’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

“Ok…” Did Ms Eva have children? Was she a good mother to them?

“What’re you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

Ms Eva turned to look at her own wedding photo, cracking a grin. “You’re still young Sam, you’ll find someone someday. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Why did you do it Sam?” Ms Eva asked more informally. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a part of the interview.”

“Huh… oh… uh- I just… I wanted to find the perfect gift for her…” Her eyes threatened him.

“And what did you think would happen if you did find it? That she would take you on the spot?”

He shrugged and gave a half-hearted nod.

“So you think she wouldn’t like you if you didn’t give her presents?”

He nodded in embarrassment. Her white-coloured heels contrasted nicely against her dark skin.

“Why would anyone like someone who’s so insecure of themselves?”

He looked up, puzzled by her words. “Uh… I have to- class-”

“Ok… good luck Sam.”

He nodded and gave her an awkward wave goodbye.

That conversation happened a week ago, and as she promised, he found himself sitting before a panel of teachers. It reminded him of the game shows that aired in the mornings and midnights after all the soap operas had finished their course. He swallowed a ball of air, rehearsing his speech in his head, making mental edits at the last second. Forget it, he thought, he had no time.

“So, you know why you’re here, we know why you’re here, let’s cut to the chase.” The one from the discipline committee said, “Why do you think you deserve a second chance at becoming the leader of the club again, after what you did.”

He had practised for this. This was supposed to be a cake-walk by now. “Because I have learnt from my mistakes and grown as a person, and I believe that everyone in the club should be given a chance to advocate themselves for the position of leader…” Air jammed his throat, sweat submerged his palms. He wished he had asked for a cup of water when the offer was made earlier. “So, I think I should also be given that chance.”

“Ok… how have you grown and changed since the last time you were here?”

“I have learnt to respect and take- more- to notice more- of others boundaries and to be careful to not cross them.”

“What does that mean? How did you notice boundaries more? Can you give us a few examples?”

The curveball came faster than he expected, and he found himself woefully unprepared three questions in. He had approached this from the wrong angle. “For example… if someone doesn't like to be touched, I won’t touch them.”

“That was what you learnt from the incident with Honey, can you give another example?”

“Like… when- you know-” He thought of all the terrible soap operas he grew up on. “Like when a girl says ‘no’, it means ‘no’, and I shouldn’t push any further.”

“Ok…” They seemed impressed by his answer, or was that just a product of his imagination.

“Is there anything else you’ve learnt?”

He had nothing else rehearsed, but he needed to say something. “Girls… are…” He played with his fingers. “I have to be more… careful… with what… I do… and… just because you like… like- you- like getting a girlfriend isn’t like- saving up money for a car or a house.”

“In what way is it not the same?”

“You can’t just… work hard on it… like doing extra-credit work for a project.”

“Ok… Anything else?”

Now he felt safe to answer honestly, “No.”

“Ok.”

“Can you tell me about the last time you were the leader? How did that go? Did you lead effectively, and if not, why?”

“When I was the leader before, I led the team effectively and managed to finish multiple projects, such as ‘Singing Doll’ and ‘Blood Orange’. I was a good team leader before, which is why I deserve to become team leader again.”

“Are you sure?” Ms Eva asked.

“Yeah.”

“What about you and Sonia?”

“What?”

“You and Sonia both recounted that you had conflicts with each other before all this, can you elaborate more on that?”

“Well, me and Sonia just have very different opinions on the project and whatever… It's like just- creative differences.”

“And how did you manage to handle those disagreements?” Ms Eva started him down, as if to telepathically send a warning about lying.

“I managed it by… listening to whatever she had to say and coming to a compromise that we’re both happy with.”

“Could you give an example of this?”

“Ok… like this one time, while we were filming ‘Singing Doll’, Sonia wanted the scene to be an establishing shot, but I thought it would be better as a close-up, so I ended up filming both and letting her choose which one looks better when she was editing.”

“No arguments or fights?”

“No.”

“Ok.” Ms Eva seemed visibly disappointed. “When I told Sonia about the interviews, I asked if she had anyone she would personally recommend for the next leader. She told me specifically to not allow you to become the next leader, could you explain to us why you think she might do that?”

“She what!” Sam blew up.

“Do you know why she might say that?”

All of his rehearsing went out the window. He could already picture the scene, Sonia maniacally laughing in secret as she backstabbed his chances of redemption, hogging the undeserved throne for herself. She had received a lot of praise from everyone for her work on ‘Singing Doll’, despite the credits clearly stating he was the one who directed it. It must’ve gone to her head, and now she had became so delusional as to think only she deserves the throne despite being so blatantly obvious she doesn’t. What would his father advise him to do? Wait, he shouldn’t heed his advice any longer, and thus he shall perform the exact opposite. His father would advise him to fight back tooth and nail, and prove unequivocally of Sonia’s petty intentions. The opposite of that would be to go on the defensive and defuse her statement head-on.

“I have some theories as to why she might say that, but I will never know for sure, because I am not her.”

“What are your theories?”

He needed to think of a smoking gun, fast. “Perhaps she may’ve been emotional at that moment, because that was the first she was hearing about her being replaced, I assume… and I think her emotions may have led her to… lash out.” What else was he supposed to say? None of these questions weren’t on his radar, he was flying blind.

“So you think she mentioned that to lash out. Well if that’s the case, why would she mention your name?”

“Won’t you ask that too if she said any other name? Bad luck… I guess.” No such thing as luck, or so his father says. He gave an eye-roll to his father’s philosophy on life. They shifted about in their seats, pupils analysing his body language for signs of a lie. He cleared his throat and straightened his back.

“Are you sure there are no specific reasons why she mentioned your name? She sounded quite serious when she said that to me.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know about it.” He definitely did. He would snap her neck even at the mere sight of her shadow.

They exchanged a flurry of looks, as if to double-check their evaluation with each other before laying it on him. Sam hoped for the best, but expected the worst. They turned to him, hands crossed with each other, and delivered the news. “I’m sorry Sam-” Sam didn’t need to hear the rest, nor did he want to.

“...I hope you understand Sam.” They finally finished their paper-thin speech where they feigned kindness and compassion for him. He smiled with overwhelming strength, hydrating the cement in his jaw. Once they dismissed him, he marched towards the club with only one thought in mind, not advised by his father or uncle or anyone for that matter, but motivated purely by his razor-sharp instincts; revenge.