Chapter 3

It's strange, really. Why was I so drawn to this boy in the first place? I didn't know him. I still don't, but now, here we are, face-to-face...and I feel like I want to.

People die all the time, but his death was different, somehow. I'd been more curious about him ever since I found that old newspaper among Mom's things in the attic. It's like...I wish I'd known him.

"Can I let go now?"

His voice snaps me back to reality. I'm still clinging to his hand as his free hand remains around my waist, completely forgetting to steady myself. Embarrassed, I shift my weight back to my feet. "Oh, uh...yeah...s-sorry."

I feel ridiculous. He's staring at me, head tilted slightly, as if he's trying to make sense of why I'm not looking away. I bet I look so foolish.

"Didn't expect to play catch today." he says, voice calm and low.

Heat floods my cheeks. Does he think I'm obsessed or something? My gaze is fixed on him, and for some reason, I can't break away. I was only curious, just curious about him, but now...

There's a flicker of a smirk on his lips, so subtle I almost miss it. He looks down at me through half-lidded eyes, considering our height difference. "You know," he murmurs. "Most people stare from a distance."

I cringe internally, feeling like I've somehow crossed an invisible line. Am I...being creepy? My mouth opens, scrambling for an explanation. "Well...y-you see—"

Before I can finish, he leans in, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath just brushing against my ear. "And usually," he whispers, his tone lazy, taunting. "They don't get this close."

My breath hitches, and I take a step back, face burning. Is he mocking me? His words carry that cool indifference that borders on arrogance, and it's starting to grate on me. Just who does he think he is?

"There was probably a reason he had enemies back then." I mutter under my breath while pouting, low enough that he won't catch it.

He glares down, his eyes narrowing. "What was that?" His tone is sharp, but his expression is just as unreadable as ever. I shake my head quickly. "Nothing."

With a slight lift of one eyebrow, he holds my gaze for a moment longer, then looks past me, adjusting his jacket. "That all, then?" His voice is flat, dismissive, like he's already lost interest. Before I can respond, he brushes past me, leaving me standing there, speechless.

I watch him walk away, feeling both mortified and...intrigued. Just what kind of person is he?

I glance through the glass wall into the room beside me, the one with the little garden built into the floor. His things are still there, scattered around—a notebook, his guitar propped against the bench. I sigh, the frustration twisting uncomfortably inside me, and turn away, walking down the empty hall.

I step outside, the school grounds are full of life—groups of people chatting, laughing, chasing each other. It's a scene I've never quite experienced like this. I tilt my head up toward the sky, murmuring to myself. "My dreams have never felt this detailed before."

The air is so real, the breeze on my skin, even the scent of damp earth beneath the grass. I can feel it all. Usually, dreams are a blur, images and moments slipping past in fragments. But here? I have solid thoughts, grounded senses. It's almost...real. This may actually be...

"Confidence is cute and all, but maybe stay in your lane."

The voice, harsh and dripping with disdain, cuts through my thoughts. It sounds like something straight out of a high school movie—sharp, biting, and full of that haughty, mean-girl tone. I turn slightly, just enough to hear without being seen.

"You should really try harder if you want people to notice a nobody like you." Another voice joins, shriller and equally cruel.

The words sting, even if they weren't aimed at me. The way they say it, how carelessly they toss out insults—it feels all too real, too brutal, like how bullying used to be back then, when people's reputations were destroyed with a single rumor.

I can't really intervine though. I'm not really here. I'm not a part of this place, not truly. This moment isn't mine to change.

I'm stepping off the front school steps when I hear another voice, faint but trembling.

"P-pl-please...j-j-just...leave m-me al-lone..."

I freeze. That voice—I'd know it anywhere. My heart starts pounding as I dart around the corner, barely able to breathe. I come to a halt, and there she is, just as I feared—my mom, younger and vulnerable, surrounded by a pack of girls with sneers on their faces.

"God, listening to you speak is making me want to rip out my ears!" snaps the ringleader, her voice dripping with contempt. She claps her hands over her ears dramatically, while another girl adds with a sneer, "Yeah, can't you just talk normally for once?"

There are five of them, towering over her, scowling, closing in over my mom.

My fists clench. Nobody gets to treat my mom like this. Normally, I'd let things go—I'm not supposed to cross paths with her here like I intended, after all—but seeing this? There's no way I can stand by and watch.

"HEY! BIACHES!" I shout, my voice ringing out loud enough to make them all turn. Without hesitating, I slip off my shoe and hurl it right at them, hitting one of the girls squarely.

They're stunned, gasping as their friend stumbles forward, rubbing the back of her head where my shoe struck her. One of them fixes me with a cold glare, hand on her hip. "Who do you think you are? This has nothing to do with you."

I roll my eyes, shaking off her glare. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." I step forward, my other shoe in hand, ready for whatever happens next.

I drop my bag, stretching out my arms and cracking my neck, my eyes locking onto theirs. They glance at my bag as it thuds onto the floor, then back at me, confusion flickering across their faces. Before they can even process what's happening, I launch forward at full speed.

I tackle the first girl, taking her to the ground and grabbing a fistful of her hair. Another one thinks she's got an opening from behind, but I swing my leg back, kicking her hard. The whole scene dissolves into pure chaos-a brawl where, despite their numbers, i'm winning. I spot one of the others trying to take a swing at me and lob my spare shoe at her, catching her square in the chest and knocking her back. All those karate classes I begged my mom to let me join only to spent half-asleep in? Turns out I actually learnt a few things.

"You vile little maniac creature demon monster thingy!" One of them screeches as I yank on her hair again, her insult so ridiculous I almost burst out laughing. Bullies from the early 2000s really are just like the movies-all bark & no bite.

The girls manage to land a few weak hits, enough to leave dirt smudges on my cheek & clothes, but it's nothing serious.

I keep swinging, kicking, and grabbing hair, my voice low but loud enough to hear. "Yeah? Well, this vile little maniac creature is cute too."

•

•

•

I find myself in the principal's office, my hair a wild mess and dirt smudged across my cheek and clothes. It appears so, my rough handling of the situation had earned me all the blame, as I'm the only one getting in trouble.

"Miss Maye, it's your first day here, and you've already stirred up some trouble?" The principal's voice carries a mix of disbelief and irritation as he settles behind his desk, preparing to lecture me. I roll my eyes & sit down on the chair in front of his desk.

"Throwing shoes and pulling hair?" He stares at me, dumbfounded, as if the mere idea of it is foreign.

"This isn't good for college applications, you know. " He continues, his tone shifting to one of disappointment. "I'm sorry, Miss Maye, but I have to impose some kind of punishment for this."

I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms and bracing myself for whatever lecture he's about to dish out. I've learned that arguing with authority figures gets you nowhere, but I couldn't just let those girls talk to my mom like that.

"I'm thinking three days of detention and...and..." He trails off, rifling through papers on his desk. His expression brightens as he finds what he's looking for. He holds up a sheet of paper, bringing it close to my face. "You have to sign up for the school talent show."

I glance at the paper, recognizing the talent show sign-up sheet. This is ridiculous. How can this possibly be considered a punishment? Normal consequences are a full week detention or community service, not this.

I look up at him, annoyance bubbling over. "Sir, this can hardly be considered a punishment."

The principal just gives me a creepy smile, sliding the paper down in front of me. "Too bad. Sign here." He taps the empty name slot eagerly.

When I look back up at him, it's clear he expects me to comply. His grin is wide, almost predatory, as he nods, waiting impatiently for me to sign. There's no way out of this, but why? Is joining the talent show really mandatory as a punishment?

I glance down at the sign-up sheet and see only three names listed. My gaze lands on the third one: "Jake Lee." I look up at the ceiling, lost in thought, muttering to myself, "Huh. Those girls earlier did say they signed him up..."

"What was that?" The principal leans in, curiosity piqued.

I snap out of my reverie and shake my head. "Nothing." Grabbing the pen, I scrawl my name beneath Jake's. It's just a talent show; I'll throw together something simple and call it "Talent."

Once I finish writing, I hand the sheet back to him, then bend down to retrieve my bag from the floor. "Am I done now?" I slip it over my shoulder just as the principal is distracted, still staring at the paper with that same creepy smile.

"Y-yeah, yeah, you can go." He says, waving me off with a hand, not fully focused on me. "And stay out of trouble." His eyes remain glued to the sign-up sheet.

What's the big deal about the talent show? Is it so unpopular that he has to find ways to force students to join?

I step out of the office, my irritation from the day only intensifying.

"T-t-thank you!"

I jump, startled, and stumble back. "Jesus! You scared me." My mom stands in front of me, fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes darting around. Was she just waiting out here for me?

I can't help but feel curious. Why is she like this? So shy and unable to make eye contact? This isn't the mom I know.

"It's no problem mo—" I start, almost slipping and calling her "Mom" but I clear my throat and begin again, forcing a soft, awkward smile. "It's no problem, Romy."

Calling a classmate the same age as me "Mom" is a terrifying and awkward thought, even if she is my actual mother.

I turn to walk away, my mind swirling with the strangeness of the day. I still don't know what to make of it all.

"I... I'm in your debt!" My mom suddenly shouts from behind me. I freeze, feeling the weight of her words. She was so different back in high school. Is this why she refuses to remember those days?

I pivot to face her. "N-no, it's fine, rea—"

"I want to owe you." She cuts me off, determination shining in her eyes. "You beat up those girls for me..." Her gaze drops, then rises back to meet mine.

She's not stuttering with me. I can't help but wonder why she stutters, but part of me thinks it has to do with not fitting in. Mom was just shy in high school; that's all.

I lean back slightly, offering a small smirk. "Well, beating them up is an overstatement—"

"No!" She interrupts me again, stepping closer. "You helped me when you didn't have to..." She trails off for a moment, then looks at me with renewed willpower and a hint of confidence. "Therefore... I am in your debt."

I really just acted on instinct to help her, a reflex born from knowing she's my mom in the future. If she were just a random girl, I probably would have tried to stay out of it. Now I'm facing three days of detention and a talent show punishment because of it.

"Okay then." I reply softly, a genuine smile breaking through. "You are in my debt." I glance back over my shoulder and then back at her, adjusting my bag. "I'll hold you to it."

With that, I turn and start walking away, disappearing around a corner. A pang of sadness washes over me. My mom's high school life must have been so hard. This is clearly not a dream. I didn't want to believe this outcome at first. I've always been into science fiction and resisted knowing what actually happened when I first arrived here this afternoon, but I'm back in the year 2006, all because of that damned clock. But why? What's my purpose here? Is it to help my mom have an easier high school life?

As I step into a completely empty & gloomy hallway, different from ghe rest, I suddenly hear the sound of paper crumpling repeatedly, echoing in a continuous loop. I can hear the papers hitting the floor every few seconds, accompanied by the scratch of a pen writing on paper before each throw. My curiosity piqued, I move forward, drawn closer to the noise.

Peeking around the corner while holding the wall for support, my eyes widen at the sight before me.

"It's Jake Lee..." I whisper under my breath.

He looks completely distraught, scratching his head as he scribbles words on a piece of paper, crumpling it, and tossing it aside before starting again. He doesn't look well, sitting against the wall, his legs pulled in, burying his face in his papers. My stomach churns at the sight.

The weight of his stress hangs in the air, and I can't shake the feeling that I've stumbled onto something significant.

"Fucking talent show." he mutters under his breath, his voice low but clear.

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