Chapter 2: When the Mask Drops

I turned to leave, but just then, the two guys who’d been watching the drama jumped in to back Carter up.

I’d almost forgotten they were there—Julian Brooks and Marcus Diaz, both perched on the edge of their beds, eyes glued to the scene like it was the season finale of some trashy reality show.

First up was Julian Brooks—my roommate, the self-proclaimed drama king. With a theatrical flourish, his voice went all nasal and exaggerated, dragging out every word so the whole hall could hear.

Julian loved a spectacle, and right now, he was living for it. He made sure every syllable dripped with sarcasm, his smirk screaming, "Finally, I get my moment."

“Mason, you’re in the wrong here. You can’t just forget your debts. If Carter hadn’t taken you to buy tickets, you wouldn’t have gotten so lucky. Even if the ticket is technically yours, you only won because of him. Splitting the prize is the right thing to do.”

He wagged his finger at me, eyebrows arched like a cartoon judge handing down a sentence. I could practically see the satisfaction radiating off him.

His sarcastic tone made me frown. Ever since freshman year, this guy had always given me the side-eye—probably because I’d snagged the top scholarship in our class three years running. Every semester, the college gave a scholarship to the student with the highest GPA, and he’d worked himself sick trying to beat me, only to come up short every time.

I remembered those late nights in the library, the silent rivalry that always simmered between us. Now, he finally had a reason to gloat, and he wasn’t wasting the opportunity.

Now, seeing me in an argument, he finally had a chance to let out all that pent-up resentment.

The satisfaction on his face was almost cartoonish. I wondered if he’d practiced this speech in the mirror, just waiting for his shot.

Before I could say anything, Marcus Diaz sidled up, grinning slyly. “Yeah! Why keep all the fun to yourself? At least treat your buddies to dinner, right?”

He elbowed Julian, both of them laughing like they’d just won some inside joke. The tone was light, but the message was clear—they were siding with Carter, no matter what.

His words made my heart sink. We used to be close, but things changed after I reported him to our professor. He’d skipped class on a Friday to visit his long-distance girlfriend, and begged me not to say anything. But as our student rep, I couldn’t play favorites. He ended up having to write an apology email, and I heard his girlfriend broke up with him because she thought he was losing interest. Ever since then, we’d grown distant.

The memory still stung. Marcus never forgave me, and now, it was payback time. I could see it in the way he grinned—there was no warmth left between us.

Now, the look in his eyes was almost venomous. Watching these two egg each other on, they looked like a pair of hyenas circling for scraps.

It was almost funny, in a twisted way. I realized how fragile friendships could be when jealousy and resentment took root.

I looked at their faces, all twisted up with old grudges, and found it almost laughable—how a little money could shatter years of friendship.

I felt a pang for the old days, when things were simple. But those days were gone, replaced by suspicion and bitterness.

Seeing the three of them gang up, I suddenly felt a weird surge of pity. Julian had always been bitter about being second-best, and Marcus was still nursing his breakup. Plus, those two always played video games with Carter—birds of a feather. They’d held back before because I was our student rep, but now, with graduation looming, their real colors were out in the open.

It was like the last act of a bad play, everyone dropping their masks at once. I realized I didn’t care anymore. Let them have their drama—I was done playing along.

With his friends backing him up, Carter puffed out his chest and raised his voice. “Mason, the people have spoken! Majority rules. If you don’t share the money, you’re heartless—a real traitor!”

He said it like he was rallying troops for a revolution, but it just sounded desperate. I almost laughed at the idea of a dorm room democracy.

I didn’t even bother to look at Julian or Marcus. They weren’t worth it. I just shrugged and glanced at Carter, making it clear I couldn’t care less.

I let my indifference show, my face flat and bored. Their opinions? Didn’t matter. The silence was my answer.

“Give it up. I’m not splitting a single cent with you. Like I said—if I give you something, it’s a favor. If I don’t, it’s my right.”

I met Carter’s eyes, holding his gaze until he looked away. No way was I backing down now.

Julian’s face turned bright red, like a cartoon villain about to pop. He snapped, “Mason, what’s the big deal about winning $1,500? You and Carter have been roommates for over three years. Shouldn’t you at least split it with him? Where’s your conscience?”

He practically shrieked the last word, his voice bouncing off the cinderblock walls. The desperation was almost comical.

His shrill voice echoed in the cramped dorm, his face twisted up like he’d just lost the last round of Mario Kart. The drama would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so tense.

He slammed his textbook shut, glaring at me like I’d just kicked his puppy. The theatrics were almost impressive, in a sad way.

I glanced at Julian, and my cold stare made his eyes widen. “Drama king, maybe you should spend less time gossiping and more time studying. Who are you to run your mouth?”

I let the words linger, knowing they’d sting. Julian always hated being called out, especially in front of an audience.

“But I doubt you’ll get another chance. There’s only one semester left, and after next term, everyone’s off to intern. You won’t even see me around anymore.”

I shrugged, making it clear I was already halfway out the door in my mind. This chapter was closing, and I was more than ready.

My words hit him so hard he looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. His face got even redder, his finger shaking as he pointed at me. “You… you…”

He sputtered, unable to finish. The room went so quiet you could hear the clock ticking above the door.

His voice shook like he was about to cry. Finally, he slumped into his chair, hiding behind a textbook, flipping the pages so hard they nearly tore.

I watched him retreat, feeling nothing but relief. One less voice to worry about.

Seeing Julian shrink back, Carter jumped in. “Mason, Julian’s right. We’ve been friends for years, and you’re throwing it all away just to keep the prize for yourself.”

He tried to sound hurt, but there was nothing behind it. Just another tactic, another guilt trip.

“And you only won because of me. If your win had nothing to do with me, I wouldn’t say a word. We’ve always been close—are you really willing to end our friendship over this?”

He looked at me like he expected me to cave, to apologize and hand over the ticket. But I was done playing by his rules.

Listening to Carter ramble, trying every angle, I couldn’t help but laugh. Not just a little chuckle, but a real, sharp laugh that cut through the tension.

The sound was sharp, almost bitter. I realized I’d been holding it in for too long.

“Stop with the tag-team routine already. If our friendship is measured in money, then it’s not worth having.”

I let the words land, watching the last bit of hope drain from Carter’s face. The truth was out, and there was no taking it back.

That made Carter furious. He yelled, “Mason, you’re heartless! Fine, from now on, you go your way and I’ll go mine. Our friendship is over.”

He practically stomped his foot, like a little kid in the middle of a tantrum. For a second, I thought he’d actually storm out, but he just stood there, waiting for me to react.

I raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, my tone cool but every word solid. “You sure you want to pick money over me? Don’t come crawling back later.”

I turned away, feeling lighter than I had in months. The drama was finally over, and for once, I was glad to walk away.

In the end, this whole mess just made one thing clear: some people are colder than the scratch-off ticket in your hand—icy right down to the bone.

I glanced at the winning ticket, feeling its weight—not just a piece of paper, but a final lesson. Some friendships, I realized, are only worth the price of a scratch-off. And that’s all they’ll ever be.