I looked over the other players while we waited for the signal to start.
Most of them barely reached my shoulder. One boy in a Spider-Man shirt was already crouched beside a chair as if he planned to dive for it before the music even stopped. Another girl clutched the backrest of one seat with both hands until the game master told her to let go.
...this wasn't going to be easy.
Little kids didn't care about dignity. They only cared about winning.
I leaned slightly toward Jane so the others wouldn't hear. "Hey… we have to win this, right?"
She didn't even turn fully to me. Just shifted her eyes sideways, her expression flat in that way she used when she thought something was obvious.
"What do you think?" she said. "I didn't sign up to lose to a bunch of seven-year-olds."
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it, and I pressed my lips together, trying to look serious again. "Well, maybe this is the year you update your expectations—"
The microphone screeched as the game master adjusted it, cutting me off. She announced the rules again even though everyone already knew them, her voice echoing across the yard while parents and relatives gathered around the edges to watch.
Then she clapped once.
"Ready… begin!"
Music burst from the speakers, loud enough to make the ground hum faintly beneath our feet.
♪~ If only one day, you'd see through my eyes,
The weight of the world, the truth in the lies.
If only you'd hear what silence won't say,
The echoes of dreams that faded away. ~♪
[ ..♪..~..♪.. ]
We started walking in a loose circle around the chairs. Shoes scraped against concrete. Someone laughed nervously behind me. A younger kid tried to keep both hands hovering near a seat as he walked, earning a warning from the game master.
I kept my pace steady, eyes moving constantly—there were six chairs, I watched the distance it takes to sit on them, and watched others edge closer to the chairs.
The music cut off without warning.
The shift from noise to silence was so sudden that everyone reacted at once—chairs screeching against the floor, bodies bumping, someone letting out a startled yelp.
I managed to sit on a chair, but just as I sat, I saw one of my cousins stumble backward, standing out of everyone who sat. She looked shocked for a second before letting out an embarrassed laugh and stepping aside.
The game started again.
Each round moved faster. The circle tightened. People stopped pretending to be polite and began edging closer to chairs, shoulders brushing, elbows occasionally knocking.
One boy actually ran when a chair still unoccupied was opposite on his side, sliding into the chair so hard it scraped loudly across the ground.
Eventually, only five of us were left.
I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as the music played again. This time, no one bothered to act casual. We all walked closer to the chairs than the rules probably allowed, each of us watching the others instead of the path ahead.
I kept my steps small and controlled, ready to pivot at any moment.
The music stopped.
I moved immediately, turning toward the nearest chair, but someone lunged from my blind side and dropped into it a fraction of a second before I reached it.
I froze with my with body about to reach it, then slowly pulled back.
Out.
A long breath left my chest as I stepped away from the circle. Heat crept up my face, and I kept my head down so no one would see how much it bothered me.
"That was embarrassing," I muttered under my breath.
Almost automatically, I glanced back toward the game.
Jane was still there, standing beside the remaining chairs. Her posture was steady, her eyes fixed on the center of the circle, already tracking her next move.
She didn't look nervous.
She looked like she intended to stay until the very end.
——————————————————
She stood a small distance away from the chair. Her shoulders straight, her arms relaxed at her sides, and her eyes remained fixed ahead as though the noise around her existed somewhere far outside her focus. She glanced toward me that looked like she'd win this for us. And hope crept up to me that she would.
The music started again.
The continuation of the song played. It's steady and melancholic rhythm contrasted the heavy beats of my heart.
♪~ Shall light be forever swallowed by the dark,
Must I wander alone with a shattered heart?
If fire turns cold and fades from sight,
I'll cling to your promise through endless night. ~♪
The final line lingered a moment longer than expected before the sound cut off completely.
Silence dropped over the room.
Three chairs remained.
Children rushed to sit to them immediately. Shoes squealed against the polished concrete. Bodies collided shoulder-to-shoulder as each tried to turn and sit before anyone else could react. The scrape of chair legs against the floor was sharp enough to make several people flinch.
One chair jerked sideways out of formation.
Jane dropped into it in a single, controlled motion. The impact made the legs rattle against the uneven floor.
At the same moment, a boy around nine slammed into the back of the chair. His hands locked onto the top rail, fingers curled tight enough that the skin across his knuckles blanched.
For a brief second, his foot remained planted directly in front of the seat, toes angled inward as if he had already begun turning to sit before the collision forced him off balance.
The chair slid several inches before catching against a rough patch in the concrete.
He did not let go.
He tried to wedge himself sideways into the remaining space, shoulder pressing hard against the chair's back. His breathing came fast and uneven, chest rising sharply as he struggled to hold his position.
Jane did not look at him.
She kept her gaze forward, jaw tight, both hands gripping the edges of the seat. Her posture stayed firm and unmoving, as if shifting even slightly might give him an opening.
Around them, the noise surged. Children shouted protests. Adults murmured, some laughing, others trying to see clearly what had happened.
The chair rocked between them until a sharp tapping sound cut through the commotion.
The game master had struck her microphone.
A burst of feedback squealed through the speakers, forcing the room into sudden quiet.
She cleared her throat, smiling too widely. "Ehem… that was intense. They're really not holding back tonight—"
Her voice trailed off mid-sentence.
Her gaze dropped to the chair.
It moved from Jane's rigid posture to the boy still clutching the backrest.
Up close, the resemblance was unmistakable. The same rounded cheeks. The same stubborn crease forming between their brows as they refused to yield.
Her fingers tightened around the microphone.
For a moment, she did not speak.
She looked at Jane sitting firmly in the chair.
Then at her son, still gripping the rail, breathing hard, waiting.
The microphone buzzed softly in her hand as the room settled into an uneasy, expectant silence.