Chapter 7

I found myself wedged right between the two of them in art class, and it couldn't have felt more awkward. On one side, Jake Lee sat with one headphone in, sketching in a worn artbook, his focus laser-sharp. On the other, Chris sprawled out, looking as bored as ever, tapping a pencil rhythmically on the table. With nowhere to look and no one to talk to, I stared down at my own empty page, feeling strangely out of place between these two polar opposites.

The desks in this classroom are different—long, rectangular tables like dinner tables at some fancy event, with enough room for ten people, five on each side. I still can't figure out how I ended up right between the school's quiet enigma and its resident troublemaker.

Chris suddenly leaned in, hovering over me with an unexpected spark of interest in his eyes. "I like your style." he murmured, his tone slightly teasing. "So, what'd they do to deserve that... little makeover?"

His question catches me off guard. I blink at him, trying to understand what he means. "Huh...? What are you talking about?" Then it clicks. He's referring to the incident yesterday with the girls, still lingering in his mind even after detention.

I hesitate, wondering if I should really go into it. But there's something oddly comforting about Chris's presence, his casual curiosity making it easier to share. I glance at him and whisper. "I just gave them a piece of my mind for being rude. They just didn't appreciate the new hairdos I gave them." I add with a small smirk, referencing how I'd yanked out a chunk of their hair.

He lets out a low whistle. "Bold move for the new girl. I can see why they wouldn't appreciate that."

"Yeah, well." I reply, crossing my arms with a satisfied smile. "They deserved it."

He leans back in his chair, grinning as he picks up a stray pen from the desk and spins it between his fingers. "Princess doesn't take crap from anyone, huh?"

I stifle a laugh, still not used to his nickname for me. He's not wrong; I'm not one to let people walk all over me, and I'm definitely not out here to make friends with people who don't deserve it.

Chris glances over at Jake, who's still deeply absorbed in his sketching. "Does he ever not have those headphones in?" he mutters to me, clearly frustrated.

Just as I think Jake's too lost in his world to notice, he speaks in a low, dry voice. "They're not on, dumbass." He doesn't look up; he just keeps sketching, unfazed.

Chris raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with a challenging grin. "Oh yeah? Then why are you wearing them?"

Jake pauses his pencil for a split second, still not meeting Chris's gaze. There's a faint trace of amusement in his voice. "To tune out your annoying voice."

Chris blinks, processing his words before chuckling softly, leaning back. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Suddenly, the teacher's voice breaks through the banter, starting the day's lesson. "I know, I know—group projects aren't everyone's favorite." She says in a chipper tone, trying to mask the collective groan that rises from the students. "But you'll thank me later!"

She announced we'll be working in groups of three, and a fresh wave of sighs and mutters ripples through the room. It's obvious no one's excited.

Chris's grin spreads as he looks at me, then over at Jake. "Perfect." He declares, draping an arm around my shoulder. "You can work with me and Jake."

My eyes widen in surprise. He didn't even ask—just decided for the both of us, including Jake, who glances up with a sour expression.

"Who said I wanted to work with you?" Jake grumbles, clearly less than thrilled.

Chris just chuckles, nudging me. "Look at him, acting all nonchalant about working with us." He whispers with a smirk. "When we all know he's got no choice."

Jake snaps his sketchbook closed, shooting Chris an annoyed glare that speaks volumes without a word. "Then you're doing most of the work. Mr. 'Barely Shows Up' but somehow manages to stay at the top of the school."

Chris raises an eyebrow, a defiant smirk playing at his lips as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, don't worry—Try not to hold me back this time."

I glance between the two of them, sensing an almost competitive tension, a silent rivalry simmering under the surface. It's intense but playful, the kind of banter that only comes with years of friendship.

I lean closer to Chris, lowering my voice. "How... how do you two know each other?"

He grins at my curiosity, glancing back and forth between Jake and me, as if weighing how much he wants to reveal. "Oh, Jakey and I go way back." He says, his voice laced with a mischievous tone. "All the way to kindergarten."

"Jakey..." I repeat under my breath, surprised by the nickname. There's something almost endearing about it, a glimpse into the softer side of their friendship.

Chris leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He was just as much of a pain back then, too."

I steal a quick glance at Jake, who doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn't care. Kindergarten, huh? It hits me that if anyone truly knows Jake, it'll most likely be Chris.

"I can hear you, you idiot." Jake mutters, his scowl directed at Chris without even looking up.

Chris just laughs, unfazed, leaning further forward as if challenging him. "You always could."

As I watch the two of them, I realize there's more here than meets the eye—a bond forged over years just as I thought, with a blend of loyalty, irritation, and understanding. And here I am, somehow caught right in the middle of it.

Jake shakes his head, putting in his other headphone with a clear signal that he's done engaging. His focus shifts back to his re-opened sketchbook, as if Chris's antics were merely background noise.

Chris leans back in his chair with an amused look, his gaze flicking between Jake and me. "Typical." He mutters with a small, fond smile.

•

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•

I didn't say much in class. The whole time, I felt a strange sense of discomfort I couldn't quite shake. Was it because I was sitting between those two—Chris with his casual charm, and Jake with his brooding silence? It was like being caught between fire and ice.

After class, Chris mentioned he was heading to the arcade, and Jake just left without a word. I wandered the halls, aimless, unsure of what to do next. I'd stayed at my mom's house last night, but I didn't want to impose again. I hated feeling like a burden.

"If the universe decided to throw me back in time, the least it could do is give me a place to crash!" I muttered to myself, trying to make light of my thoughts.

Lost in my musings, I didn't realize where my feet had taken me until I found myself on the school's rooftop. I looked around, surprised—I'd been wandering mindlessly, and somehow ended up here. But just as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I froze.

There, sitting against the railing and focused on a journal in his lap, was Jake Lee. His guitar case rested beside him, propped against the wall. He hadn't noticed me yet, his usual mask of irritation replaced by something softer, something thoughtful. His pencil moved swiftly over the page, and every now and then he'd pause, tapping the eraser like he was mulling over the perfect words. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd found the inspiration he needed for his song.

Without even realizing it, I stepped forward, drawn by curiosity. Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him, peering down at his journal.

"Oh, that looks good!" I said impulsively, glimpsing a line of lyrics that struck me as beautifully honest.

Jake jolted, his eyes snapping up to meet mine. In an instant, he slammed the journal against his chest, glaring at me in shock. "What the hell? Were you spying on me?"

I laughed, ignoring his irritation. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I shrugged. "You seem to be taking this talent show thing seriously." I teased lightly.

He scoffed, looking almost offended. "A talent show?" he muttered, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "It's meaningless. Just a stupid event with no real purpose."

I tilted my head, letting his words sink in as I studied his expression. Without a word, I slid down to sit beside him, leaning my back against the railing.

He shot me a scowl. "Hey, who said you could sit here?"

Ignoring him, I met his gaze, curiosity evident in my eyes. For a moment, I just watched him, trying to read the boy beneath the aloof facade. Finally, I broke the silence, my voice gentle. "Don't you want to be a musician in the future?"

He blinked, surprised by the question, and then looked away, his expression hardening. "Who cares about my future?" He muttered, his tone laced with bitterness.

A pang of sadness hit me. Knowing what little I do about his future—that it's cut short—his words felt like a small tragedy. There was so much potential in him, but something was holding him back, keeping him locked in this self-imposed cage.

Taking a breath, I kept my eyes on him. "But you do care." I said softly, my tone steady. "You care about music. You care about writing it, playing it..." I glanced at his guitar resting beside him.

He rolled his eyes, though I caught a flicker of something else in his expression. "Yeah? So what?"

I laughed lightly, leaning back against the railing and looking up at the vast sky above. "You should enjoy the talent show." I murmured. "Do it for yourself."

As I looked up at the clouds, my voice softened, a tinge of sadness slipping in. "Life's too short not to."

A silence fell between us, and I felt the weight of those words settling in. I glanced over at him, wondering what high school was like for him in this timeline. So much anger, so much tension bottled up. The only person I'd seen even come close to pulling him out of it was Chris...

He didn't respond right away, and I thought he'd brush me off again. But then he spoke, his voice low, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "You..." He trailed off, his tone bitter but weary. "Don't know anything..."

A spark of frustration flickered in me. For someone so full of talent, he was awfully determined to stay isolated, keeping everyone at arm's length. But instead of letting it show, I just laughed, shrugging playfully. "Oh, does Chris know everything, then?"

He turned to me with an irritated, confused expression. "What does Chris have to do with this?"

The way his brow furrowed made me giggle. He didn't even realize how different he acted around Chris, how much he actually let his guard down. It was almost... sweet.

"Never mind." I shook my head, smiling to myself as I glanced back up at the sky. "Anyway... if music means something to you." I said, my tone softening. "Maybe you should care a little more about the small things."

He seemed to bristle at that, but I noticed a shift in his posture. It was subtle, the way he crossed his arms and looked down. Maybe he hadn't considered that the talent show was more than just another event—that it could be an opportunity to put himself out there, in a way he hadn't yet dared.

I could imagine how the other students, especially the girls, would talk about his performance for weeks. Jake was already a mystery, and a performance would only deepen the fascination surrounding him.

I'd only ever heard him play guitar, so I couldn't judge how his voice might sound. But I knew, heartbreakingly, that the future held only a single trace of him—a fading newspaper article, a footnote in the vastness of time. He'd never get the chance to make a big name for himself, to share his talent with the world. He was gone before he even had the chance to become who he was meant to be.

He let out a long sigh, like he'd been holding it in for ages. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he leaned back, looking up at the sky as if searching for answers in the clouds.

After a moment, he spoke, his tone calmer than before. "I don't know if you've noticed." He began, glancing sideways at me. "But I'm not the type to... get involved."

I blinked, surprised he was finally sharing something real. A grin tugged at my lips, and I kept my gaze steady on him. "Trust me." I said with a soft laugh. "I've noticed."

Looking down at my hands, I found myself fidgeting with them. "Actually, that's the most you've talked to me... well, normally."

He seemed taken aback by my words, his gaze softening for a brief moment before a small, rare chuckle escaped him. It caught me off guard, making my heart beat faster.

He looked back at the sky, his expression thoughtful. "Some things are better left unsaid. Makes them more interesting, don't you think?"

I stared at him, mouth slightly open, absorbing the unexpected warmth in his words. There was something so compelling about him—a quiet, guarded side that made every word feel like a rare glimpse into his world.

And it was crazy, but my heart was pounding just from this. I hadn't planned on trying to get close to him, hadn't expected him to open up even a little, but here we were. And somehow, in that fleeting moment, it felt like something real had passed between us.

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