Chapter 2

I don't know how I got here, and I'm still not certain if this is reality or just some strange fantasy. All I know is that the man walking ahead of me is the Jake Lee—the one who was murdered in 2002. I'm sure of it. I've stared at his picture enough times not to miss him.

But here he is... alive and well.

As he walks by, I feel this urge to say something—anything. But the words tangle in my throat, refusing to come out. I step forward, almost ready to speak, but he brushes past me without a single glance, his gaze fixed somewhere else. I turn, watching him drift away, his guitar strapped to his back, taking up most of my view. A part of me wants to think he's just full of himself, but I know he doesn't know me. I take a steadying breath and let it go, just watching as he disappears down the hallway.

When I turn back, I notice the girls around my sight, huddled together, whispering and giggling. It's clearly about Jake. Mom was right when she said he had a way with the ladies, and seeing him firsthand, I believe her without question.

Then it hits me: if this is just a dream, I don't want to wake up with regrets. I glance back down the hall where he vanished and start running—not as fast as I want to, but fast enough. After all, this is still a school, and I'm pretty sure the same rules apply here in 2002.

As soon as I reach the corner, I spot him in the distance, just a few strides away. I'm about to take a step forward when the bell rings, slicing through the air with a jarring screech. I wince, covering my ears, but when I look up again, he's slipping into a classroom. No... no. I have to follow him. I have to hear his voice, just once.

"No regrets." Is what keeps repeating in my mind over & over again.

Up until now, Jake Lee has only been a mystery to me—someone from old newspaper clippings, a face captured in grainy photos. And since technology wasn't what it is today back in 2002, there's barely any information about him in the future. If he'd existed in the age of iPhones and social media, he surely would've been everywhere given his popularity. But now, I only have this fleeting chance to really see him.

I rush into the classroom after him, barely hesitating as I step inside. The atmosphere is instantly different here, crowded and buzzing with voices. Students are everywhere, talking, laughing, standing around—not a single one in their seat. I glance toward Jake, who's off to one side, keeping to himself as he slings his guitar off his back and settles on a desk. I slip through the crowd, weaving my way between groups until I'm right behind him, sliding into the desk just out of his line of sight. From here, I can see him clearly—his posture, the way he holds his guitar to the side. I'm so close it feels surreal. But I can't ignore the heavy thought creeping into my mind: he's going to die.

I frown at the thought.

It feels like i'm reading a novel, right on the page before the tragedy. The irony is bitter, almost unbearable.

Suddenly, the classroom falls silent, and the students quickly scramble back to their seats as the teacher strides in. "Good morning, everyone. I hope you all read chapters 67 through 93 last night."

The class groans as they pull out their textbooks. I glance around, my confusion growing. Reaching into the desk, I pull out an old, worn, spare book, feeling its unexpected weight. Our textbooks have never been this heavy over in 2030.

"Now, if I could have a volunteer to explain chap—oh... hello?"

The teacher's voice falters as footsteps approach my desk. I look up and realize everyone is staring at me. She stops, crossing her arms. "I don't remember you... and I remember all my students."

A slight cough escapes me as I fumble for words, glancing around at the sea of eyes pinned on me. The silence is unnerving. I need to say something—anything—to break this tension. In a flash, I jump up from my desk, the chair scraping back with a loud, awkward screech as I straighten up like a sergeant on duty.

"My name is Juno Maye, ma'am! I'm a new student, ma'am!"

A ripple of chuckles spreads through the room as the teacher raises an eyebrow, momentarily stunned. She takes a breath, then sighs, shaking her head. "A new student, huh? Funny, the office didn't bother to tell me." She waves her hand dismissively, turning back toward the front of the class. "Fine. Just... follow along with the rest of the class."

I glance around the room, forcing a quick, awkward smile at the curious faces still turned my way before I bow slightly and settle into my seat. Then I notice Jake staring, his gaze fixed on me, almost as if he's sizing me up. I'm close enough to see the details of his face, the intensity in his eyes. My heart skips. He seems to catch himself and looks away, but the moment hangs in the air, strange and electric. Maybe my little show was too much, though I almost topped it off with a salute and another "Yes, ma'am!"

Taking a breath, I focus on the heavy textbook in front of me. If this really is a dream, I could wake up now. I came face-to-face with Jake Lee—that's more than enough for one lifetime. I have nothing else to remain in this period for.

"You're late." the teacher suddenly speaks sharply, and my gaze shifts to the door.

A girl stands there, her blonde curls wild and unkempt. She's wearing a really large sweater atop of her uniform, its sleeves long enough to cover her hands completely, though I can see her fingers nervously fidgeting beneath the fabric. She avoids eye contact with the teacher—and the entire class, really—her eyes darting down as she edges forward.

I squint, studying her hair. The roots specifically and, before I can even stop myself, I mutter under my breath. "She's not a natural blonde."

Every head in the room turns toward me, and I instantly feel the heat rise in my cheeks. My eyes dart to all the faces around me, and I force a neutral expression, lifting up the textbook in view as I pretend to be deeply engrossed in it. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I still don't know if this is reality or some bizarre dream, so the last thing I should be doing is drawing any attention to myself.

Still, I sneak another glance at the girl. I know she's not a natural blonde; the darker roots give it away, and I've picked up a lot of hair knowledge from my mom, who's a hairstylist. I've learned a thing or two from her.

A small, involuntary smirk crosses my face as I lean back, a bit too pleased with my observation.

"S-sorry... t-the b-bus was de-delayed..." she says really softly, her voice barely audible but strained with nerves. Watching her struggle is almost painful. The teacher sighs, clearly annoyed, and turns towards the board as she picks up a piece of chalk. "Whatever, Miss Romy Lynn. Just take a seat."

The name jolts me upright. I blink slowly, my eyes fixed on her face. I feel time stopping as the details suddenly sharpen. Could it be...?

Mom?

Without thinking, I spring up, my chair scraping against the floor just like before, loud enough to make everyone turn and stare—again, including the teacher, my mother...and Jake Lee. I freeze, the weight of their stares pressing in on me. I probably look so stupid right now.

I put on a forceful smile as I take in the scene. "Uh... sorry, leg cramp."

The teacher narrows her eyes, but everyone eventually turns back to their books, and I slump back into my seat, keeping my gaze firmly down. Romy—my mom?—heads to her seat, glancing briefly in my direction before looking away.

For a moment, I just sit there, stunned, my heart pounding. This isn't just some chance meeting with a long-dead rock star. This is Mom, and she has no idea who I am.

"I have a feeling... a lot of distractions will be taking place this semester." The teacher's voice is firm, and although she's facing the board, it's clear those words were meant for me. I shift in my seat, shielding myself with my hand, hoping the last of the stares have finally died down.

Romy settles into the seat beside me. It's the corner right by the window. I risk a quick, subtle glance her way, but she catches me instantly. I snap my gaze forward, heart pounding.

It definately has to be her—my mom. "Lynn" is her maiden name before she married my dad, giving me the name "Maye" But she looks so different. I'd never imagined her as a blonde; no wonder I didn't recognize her at first. I had no idea she was blonde at one point. And yet, I think with a pout, she wouldn't let me bleach my own hair when I desperately begged. Hypocrite.

But then again, she's never said a word about her high school days—not even a single story, even though she has endless tales from her early adult life to tell. And as far as I know, she doesn't even have any high school pictures. This whole scene feels like stepping into a hidden chapter of her life.

If this is real, I need to keep my distance. Talking to her could mess things up in ways I can't even imagine. Still... why would she keep her high school years such a secret?

And then there's Jake. I don't think Mom ever mentioned being in the same class as him. I'd assumed they were just schoolmates, part of the same small-town world but not close. But now, seeing them together here in the same class, a mystery starts to unfold. Could she have been closer to him than I thought? than she led on?

•

•

•

The moment the bell rings, I bolt for the door, feeling like I'm moving faster than the speed of light. Normally, I'd sneak out my phone to pass the time, but all I have is this old flip phone I found in the pocket of my skirt. How do you even use these things? I think back to my quiet Saturday I spent lounging on the couch, surrounded by textbook and pending assignments. Now, I've woken up in a school, in a different era. I couldn't even enjoy my weekend properly. It's feeling less and less like a dream as the seconds pass.

Leaning against the window sitting on a wall in the hall, I scan my surroundings and spot Jake. He's filling up a water bottle at the school fountain, that same oversized guitar still slung over his back like a second skin. At this rate, it's practically a backpack.

I realize my wish is actually still unfulfilled. I need to hear him speak at least once before this "dream" slips away. What do I have to lose? Gathering my courage, I stroll over to him, leaning against the fountain wall.

He looks up, confusion etched across his face. I can't waste this moment—I have to say something, anything, to draw him in. I want to make a great first impression, but what comes out of my mouth is utterly ridiculous. "Hey. Come here often?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I stop smiling and stare blankly at him. What the hell was I thinking? Why would I say something so stupid and random? I must have sounded like an idiot.

Jake just blinks at me, then glances behind him, as if searching for an escape route. He shakes his head, looking bewildered, before closing the cap of his water bottle. Without another word, he picks up his bag from the floor and walks away.

I stand there, mortified, heat flooding my cheeks. I had a chance to make a memorable first impression, and instead, I blew it. Now he probably thinks I'm just some weirdo, especially after my "distractions" in class. What a disaster.

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the wall as I look up at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Hey. You Juno?" A random boy approaches, breaking my moment of solitude. I lift my head off the wall and meet his gaze. "Um... yeah?"

He giggles, a sound reminiscent of a child, and even lets out a snort before dramatically putting his arm into a salute. "Okay, ma'am!"

I'm completely taken aback. I didn't even perform that salute in class, and yet my awkward introduction has somehow made its way around the school? He must have heard about it from one of the other classmates.

I narrow my eyes, annoyance creeping in. "Are you a sergeant? a soldier? in the army? This is pretty weird if you're not."

His expression shifts to one of embarrassment, and I can't help but suppress a laugh at his flustered reaction. I've always been good at throwing serious humor back at those who try to embarrass me, and it seems that skill translates just fine in 2002 as well.

"I... well, uh..." he stammers, but before he can finish, a melody drifts through the air, pulling my attention away. I glance over and see a group of female students gathered around a glass enclosure, their faces lit with excitement.

My heart quickens as I follow the sound, curiosity leading me closer. The music is captivating—beautiful. I stop just short of the glass and peer inside.

What I see takes my breath away. It's a built-in garden, square-shaped and surrounded by glass, filled with greenery that almost seems to glow. In the center, there's a bench, and sitting on it is none other than Jake Lee. He plays the guitar effortlessly, his fingers dancing over the strings in perfect rhythm. The moment feels surreal; It feels like i'm staring at a celebrity, and my heart races as the music washes over me.

"Did you sign him up for the talent show like we planned?" one of the girls beside me asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Yeah, first thing in the morning." the other girl replies with a smirk. The first girl adds, "Good. He always refuses to sign up, but now he has to do it."

My eyes widen at their words. They're... forcing him? Jake must have his reasons for avoiding talent shows. But without his knowledge, they've already signed him up? The girls continue giggling, and I mutter under my breath from slight irritation, "Smells like biach in here."

Their laughter halts abruptly, and one of them turns to me, brows raised. "Excuse me?"

I avoid eye contact, focusing instead on Jake in the garden. "Oh, nothing. I just had a cough."

But they're not buying it. The girl on the left steps directly in front of me. "No, I could have sworn you called us bitches."

"Yeah, lady, we don't even know you." the girl on the right adds, clearly offended by my half-hearted jab.

I feel the need to defend myself. I won't let them twist my words. I will not take credit for an insult I didn't put out. I raise a finger in protest. "Oh no, no, no. I didn't say 'bitch,' I said 'biach!'"

They both gasp, exchanging incredulous glances, as if they're realizing that arguing with me is going to be a fruitless endeavor.

"Whatever. Let's go." The girl huffs, shooting me a glare as they walk past. I hear the other girl mutter "What the hell is a biach?" as they turn a corner.

That was... odd. If it were 2030, both sides would be engaged in a full-blown argument until one claimed victory but ended up in the principals office. At least, that's what I'm used to.

I let out a deep sigh and turn back to the glass window. My heart races as I scan the interior. "Huh... where did he...?" I notice his bag on the bench and his guitar leaning against it, but Jake is nowhere in sight. "That's... weird." I mumble to myself.

Determined to spot him, I step closer, still gazing through the glass. Suddenly, I bump into someone. It's a slight collision, but I nearly lose my balance. A hand catches me at my waist just in time, steadying me before I can fall. My eyes fall open in surprise & my lips part as I get pulled back up, realizing who I've come face to face with, time slowing to a crawl.

"Are you okay?"

I blink slowly, my mouth slightly agape. I can't believe this is happening. His hand grips me firmly, and my heart races, my face mere inches from his. I'm entranced by the depth of his gaze, unable to look away.

And his voice... it lingers in the air, resonating with a warmth that sends a thrill through me.

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