I don't know exactly when I began to notice the new boy.Maybe it was because of the silence he carried—so different from mine.Or maybe because the way he existed wasn't an attempt to fit in, but simply… to be.Still, ever since he walked into our classroom that morning and introduced himself as Carlos Galván, I haven't stopped watching him from the corner of my eye.
"Good morning…" he said.No hesitation, but no enthusiasm either."Carlos Galván."
His voice was neutral, almost like he was stating a meaningless fact. A few classmates approached him, curious. They asked what school he came from, if he liked soccer, if he already knew the city. He answered, yes… but never asked anything back.No smile, no awkwardness. Nothing. Just that calm gaze—like someone who has already been here many times, and nothing surprises him anymore.
One girl even joked with him:"Well, welcome to the funnest class in Hispano, okay?"
And he simply replied:"Thank you."
Nothing more. No laugh, no grin. Just thank you.
In his place, I would've smiled.I would've said, "I hope so," or "You'll make me feel welcome, right?"Something. Anything. Something to maintain the image. Something to keep the balance.
But not him.He does nothing to soften other people's discomfort.And yet… he doesn't create it either.I don't know how he does it.
During chemistry class, I saw him working silently with Diego, who kept trying to start a conversation.
"Do you like this subject?" Diego asked."It's fine," Carlos replied, writing numbers in his notebook."I hate it… well, I don't hate it, but it tires me sometimes," Diego laughed—awkwardly."Mm."
Silence again.
He isn't rude. He isn't cold. He just… doesn't get involved.And that indifference, instead of feeling hostile, feels… real.
I caught myself looking at him several times.Not because I liked him. It wasn't that.It was… curiosity? Intrigue?
A thought crossed my mind, uninvited:What if he's like me?What if speaking naturally is hard for him too?
Maybe… maybe he just doesn't know how.Maybe he's shy, reserved, insecure.Maybe he's afraid of saying something and regretting it later—like I do every single second.
Maybe… he needs someone.
When the lunch bell rang, I gathered the courage I never lack—because I always have it ready, like a neatly folded disguise—and walked up to him.
"Hi," I said, with my best kind smile. "I'm Mafer. Mafer Solar.""I'd already heard," he replied—not warm, not cold."Oh… right. Well… I just wanted to say that some of the guys go to the North field to play soccer. If you'd like… I can introduce you. They're really nice, you'd like them."
He looked at me.But not the way others do.He didn't search for sympathy. He didn't search for approval.And yet, his eyes didn't judge… they simply observed.
"Thank you," he said. "But I'm not interested."
I didn't know how to respond.
"Oh… well, then… if you want, we could go to the cafeteria. I go with some friends…"
"I brought my lunch," he said gently. "And I prefer to eat alone."
There was no hostility. No cruel rejection.Just… a simple statement. Like someone saying, "I prefer water over soda."So natural. So firm.
"Sure… as you like," I replied.And I smiled. Of course, I smiled.
The rest of the day, I followed my routine.Jokes here, answers there, quiet laughter, nod, nod, nod.
Inside, my thoughts crashed against each other.
Was I too intrusive?Did he think I was pressuring him?Why would someone reject company just like that?What if he dislikes me?
I laughed in History.I made a funny comment in Literature.They asked me to walk home with them after school… and like so many times, I lied.
"I have to go to the library.""The teacher asked me to help her tomorrow.""I have math tutoring."
All half-truths. All threads holding my character together.
When I finally walked out of the building, my face felt exhausted.No one was watching anymore.I no longer had to keep everything in order.
Pretending… I thought, stopping under the trees near the main gate.
Pretending is tiring. Tiring… but necessary.If I don't pretend… I'll be alone.If I am me… the real me… no one would know what to do with me.This works. I can endure it. It's the best way.It's the only thing I know how to do.
I took a deep breath. I was about to walk toward the gate when I saw him.
Carlos, beside a bicycle, adjusting his backpack.He didn't see me. I hesitated. Should I say goodbye… or not?
I walked, as if my legs chose for me.
"See you tomorrow," I said, with a smile… tired… but a smile nonetheless.
"See you tomorrow," he replied, without raising his voice.
I walked away.And then, I heard him behind me:
"You don't have to pretend. I'm tired too. Just say it as it is."
I stopped. My throat closed. I turned around—
He was gone.
I didn't feel shame.I didn't feel anger.I felt… something else.Something I never wanted to feel.
Fear.
Fear that someone… had seen me.
If he noticed…how many others might?And what if one day… everyone does?
I kept walking. In silence.For the first time, not knowing which face to wear.