We got to the roof and Jake was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "So what’s the plan? What’s Phase Two?"
I walked over to the edge and leaned against the railing, looking down at the street below. "Phase Two," I said, trying to sound like I had any idea what I was talking about, "is about creating an opportunity."
I turned to face him. "You can’t just walk up to her and say, ’Hey, I also like weird docuntaries, let’s go out.’ You’ll scare her off."
"Right, right," he said, nodding so fast his head looked like it was going to fly off. "Too aggressive. So what do I do?"
I sighed and walked over to the edge of the roof, my hands gripping the railing. The city looked flat and quiet from up here. "We need an opportunity," I said, turning back to him. "And it has to feel natural. You can’t just go in there with a plan."
Jake just stared at , his eyes wide. "Natural," he repeated, like it was a word from a different language.
"Tomorrow, at lunch, I’ll find her," I explained, the words just coming to . "I’ll ask her about studying for that chemistry test. She already said she was struggling, and I already offered to help, so it won’t seem weird. I’ll suggest we go to the library after school."
He nodded slowly, processing the information.
"When we get there, you’re going to be near the entrance," I continued. "Not waiting, just there. Look at your phone, look at a poster, I don’t care. Just look busy."
"Busy," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the empty rooftop as if practicing.
"I’ll see you and say hi. I’ll tell you we’re going to study for the chem test, and then I’ll ask if you want to join us. It takes all the pressure off you. All you have to do is say yes."
He looked like I had just explained how to solve world hunger.
"And then?" he whispered.
"Then we go inside. We find a table. We actually study. And at so point, I’ll bring up that docuntary about the weird lines in the desert. You, having done your howork, will say sothing about it. Sothing that isn’t about aliens."
"Right. No aliens."
I took a step closer to him. "Your only job is to have a normal conversation with her. That’s it. You are not asking her out. You are not asking for her number. We are just planting a seed."
’Planting a seed? Where did I even get that from? I sound like a self-help book.’
Jake’s face was completely serious now, full of a new, terrifying determination. "I won’t let you down, Commander."
He saluted . A quick, clumsy motion that he clearly thought was cool.
I just stared at him. The secret eting, the stupid mission, him saluting like I was in charge of an army... A sound ca out of my throat, sothing between a tired sigh and a laugh. My life was so ridiculous now.
"Just don’t call that," I said, turning and walking toward the door, my ribs starting to ache again. "And don’t ever salute in public."
"Right, sorry," he said, scrambling to follow . "It just felt like the right thing to do, you know?"
I didn’t answer him. I was already thinking about Ms. Lail and the detention I had to get back to. This whole wingman thing was a massive headache, and I hadn’t even done anything yet.
I left him on the roof, probably still practicing his non-alien-related conversation starters. ’Commander,’ he’d called . I swear, my life has beco the exact kind of cringe fanfiction I used to make fun of online.
The walk back to my detention felt like a million miles. My body was staging a full-scale rebellion, with my ribs leading the charge. But it was my brain that was really wiped out. It felt like a browser with way too many tabs open: Thea’s bruised face, Nina’s look of disappointnt, Jake’s stupid salute, the whole damn school staring at my new haircut.
It was all just... too much.
I slid the classroom door open as quietly as I could. Ms. Lail was at her desk, hunched over a stack of tests, her red pen flying across the paper. The room was dead silent. So quiet you could hear the clock on the wall judging you for every second you were late.
She didn’t even look up. "Sit," was all she said.
I sat.
The next hour was probably the longest of my life. I just stared at the open page of my history textbook, not reading a single word. The silence in the room gave my brain way too much space to think.
My old life was simple. It was boring, but it was simple. I’d co ho from school and the biggest problem I had was deciding which video ga to play. My thoughts were all about big, fake-deep things like the aninglessness of existence or why the ending of my favorite ani was bullshit. Easy stuff.
Now? Now my brain was a dumpster fire of real-people problems.
I had a wingman mission for a guy who thinks aliens drew lines in a desert.
I was walking a kid ho who looked like her own life was a war zone.
And Nina... I screwed up with her today. I knew, logically, that stopping her was the right call. That rushing in would have just made us both targets. But logic doesn’t do crap when you see the person you care about look at you like you’re a monster. Her text had fixed it, yeah, but the mory of that look was still stuck in my head.
I was so tired. It was a kind of tired that went straight to my bones. A tired that sleep wouldn’t fix. This was what it felt like, I guess. To be involved. To have people.
It sucked.
It was also... not the worst thing in the world. And that was the part that really ssed with my head.
A granola bar slid across my desk, stopping right next to my textbook.
I looked up. Ms. Lail was watching , her red pen resting on her papers. She wasn’t looking at like a teacher, but like... a person. It was weird.
"You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your book," she said, her voice quiet. "Eat it. You look like you’ve had a day."
I just stared at the granola bar. It was the generic oatal and honey kind.
’Is this a test?’ I thought. ’Is she going to give more detention if I don’t eat the granola bar? Is this so kind of teacher power move?’
"Thank you," I mumbled, picking it up.
She just nodded and went back to her papers.
I unwrapped the bar and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard and sugar. It was perfect.
When the clock on the wall finally, finally hit four, Ms. Lail put her pen down. "Alright. You’re free to go."
I stood up and was on my way.
"Hey," she called out. I stopped at the door and looked back at her. "Whatever was going on today... please, don’t let it happen again."
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I just nodded and walked out.
The school was a ghost town now. I caught my reflection in the dark classroom windows and paused.
’Man, you look like crap,’ I thought. ’Lighten up, idiot.’
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