#FlashFictionMagic: What Lies Beneath

The identity of Phil The Falcon is a big secret at our school. When Daphne, the head cheerleader, jogs out onto the field to dance beside the giant bird mascot at halftime, she has no idea who is under the costume. 

We have math together, so maybe she knows me, but probably only as the guy across the aisle who once handed her the protractor she dropped, and who, another time, slipped and fell on his way back from the pencil sharpener. She never says hello to me. She doesn't flirt in the hall with me like she does with the guys on the team. I bet she doesn’t know my name. 

As we shimmy back and forth under the bright lights, then link arms in a do-si-do, the crowd goes as wild as my heart does at the sight of the two of us together. We are in perfect sync,  and though it's a million degrees under here, I could dance all night. 

When we bow at the end of our performance, I imagine what it would be like if I loosened the head portion of the Phil costume just enough that it fell off when I bent down. 

I’d raise my head to face the crowd, and they’d gasp, shocked to discover Phil wasn’t any of the dozens of people the rumor mill has named, but just your average eleventh grader with nerd glasses and a bright red pimple on his chin. I’d wave triumphantly to my fans, and then I’d turn to face Daphne. She’d grin and kiss my cheek, and we’d turn and run off the field together. 

Then she'd know that every time she's held onto the wing of that ridiculous costume, she has been completely oblivious to what lies beneath.