JAMES

Highschool A smelled like floor wax and cheap soup by Wednesday morning, and the week since Mina at the gate had already felt longer than seven days.

Val had taken every corridor and every class change on a path that did not cross hers. He still had no line that would not drown him in the old warmth they used to share in tenth and eleventh grade—before the rewind rewrote what anyone else remembered. Around Dawn and the Gu twins, the days had felt ordinary again. Around Mina, he did not trust his mouth.

---

The lunch bell tore the building loose. Lockers slammed; voices stacked; feet hammered the stairs. Val queued with everyone else, tray in hand, and let the current carry him into the cafeteria.

James's lunch crowd had already claimed their stretch of tables—James, Karen, Sel, and Emily at the center, the rest of the seats filled by faces that blurred into background noise. Victoria sat among them with a book half-open, unread, her expression flat enough that drama might as well have been happening in another building. Amanda was there with the girls, tucked into the cluster without steering it.

Val cut along the aisle with his tray still balanced.

"Val—over here." James's voice, or another one he knew from habit, hooked him from behind. "Sit with us. Like old times."

The pull was casual—the same twice-a-week lunch rhythm from those earlier grades, aimed at a table he did not belong at anymore.

"Hey." Val lifted his chin enough for the group to see it and kept walking. He did not slow. He did not stop. He did not sit.

Dawn was already saving him a seat. Mei had her elbows on the table; Xian was grinning like she had been waiting for the show. Val set his tray down with them—the table he had chosen on purpose.

Memory hit before the first bite.

In tenth and eleventh grade he had let this same crowd eat Alex, Morris, and Joshua out of his life—transfer friends he had neglected for James's laughter. He still saw Karen's outing and the silence that followed, nobody at that table willing to stand in front of him. Fair-weather, he thought, and kept his fork moving. He had been right not to stop today.

Behind him, Karen rolled her eyes. Sel caught the look and fed it right back.

"Whatever." Karen's voice was flat. Sel muttered after it, loud enough for the table to hear, not loud enough for him to pretend he had not. "He's with the Gu's now." A beat. "Too good for us."

Amanda's protest was smaller. "He said hi—"

"Whatever." Emily cut across her, and Amanda's point died in the open air.

Victoria did not glance up. Whatever had started behind Val's back was beneath her notice.

Val did not look back. He ate with Dawn and the Gu twins while the noise of the cafeteria rolled on.

Xian leaned in, eyes bright. "Hey hey, Val." She tipped her chin toward the aisle they had left. "Who were they?"

"Nobody important." The answer came out thin. He dodged before a name or a history could stick to the question.

Mei was still staring past his shoulder. "Why are they staring at you?" She dragged the word out. "Is it a crush? Hmmmmmmmmmm?"

Xian's mouth pulled into a pout at the tease.

Xian reached over and pinched her twin's arm. Val laughed it off and let the subject die.

Lunch held. Trays emptied; conversations rose and fell; the hour moved on without another turn worth naming.