Eleven Years Ago

Josh comes sprinting into the cafeteria like the building's on fire.

"Oh my God, dude," he pants, skidding to a stop at our table, hands on his knees. "We are so going to be famous."

We all stare at him.

Henry blinks first. "Good morning to you too."

Maya squints. "Josh, are you still drunk from Friday night?"

Luke doesn't look up from his tray. I'm the one who sighs. "Please tell me this isn't another one of your end-of-the-world theories."

Josh straightens, eyes shining. "No, no, listen. Everyone—everyone—is talking about Luke."

That makes Luke finally look up.

"Why," he asks flatly, "would that be a good thing?"

Josh points at him like he's unveiling a prize. "Because you punched a senior."

I groan. Henry lets out a low whistle. Maya's eyes widen.

"Not just a senior," Josh adds dramatically. "The senior. Colton."

Maya's jaw drops. "Wait. That Colton?"

Josh nods vigorously. "The quarterback. The guy everyone's scared of. The guy who thinks he owns the hallway."

Henry leans back. "Okay, you're definitely exaggerating."

"I'm not!" Josh insists. "People were literally stopping me in the hallway asking if I know Luke. Like I'm his manager or something."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Josh, being famous for punching someone is not a good thing."

Luke mutters, almost to himself, "I'd do it again."

I whip my head toward him. "Okay—no. Absolutely not. That is not the takeaway here."

He looks at me then, really looks at me, eyes sharp. "Would you have preferred staying with him?"

I stiffen. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you're implying," he fires back. "He was touching you. You didn't want that."

Josh and Henry go very, very quiet.

"I said," I reply carefully, "that violence isn't something we should celebrate."

Luke scoffs. "Right. So next time I should just watch?"

I glare. "You're twisting my words."

"Sure," he says, leaning back. "Let's go with that."

Josh claps his hands together loudly, desperate to defuse the tension. "Okay! New rule! No fighting before noon. Also—we are still famous."

Henry snorts. "You are not joining the football team."

Josh points at him. "You don't know my strength."

Maya laughs. "Josh, you cried during dodgeball."

"That was tactical," Josh says defensively.

I can't help smiling a little. The tension eases, just enough.

Henry clears his throat, suddenly sheepish. "So... um. Speaking of the party."

Maya's eyes light up instantly. "Ohhh. Sofia."

Henry nods, grinning despite himself. "Yeah. We talked. Like—actually talked."

Josh leans forward. "Did she laugh?"

"Yes."

"Did she touch your arm?"

"...Yes."

Josh slams his hand on the table. "He's in."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Relax. Laughing does not mean love."

Henry ignores her. "She said she likes old movies."

I freeze. "She does?"

He nods eagerly. "Black-and-white ones. She said they're romantic."

Maya gasps. "Oh my God. That's soulmate behavior."

Luke, who's been silent, finally speaks. "Did she say that, or did you say that?"

Henry frowns. "What's the difference?"

Josh suddenly perks up. "I talked to a girl too."

We all turn to him.

Maya squints. "A girl talked at you, or to you?"

Josh scowls. "She smiled."

Maya deadpans. "That's customer service."

"I think she likes me," Josh insists.

Maya laughs so hard she almost chokes. "Josh, no one likes you."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

I shake my head, smiling despite myself, and glance at Luke. He's quieter now, staring at his tray, jaw tight.

The cafeteria buzzes around us—laughter, rumors, whispers.

The bell rings, sharp and unforgiving, and we all groan in unison.

"Tragic," Maya says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I was emotionally invested in Henry's love life."

Henry flushes. "Please don't call it that."

We shuffle out of the cafeteria together, the hallway already loud with lockers slamming and people shouting across corridors. Our lockers are in the same stretch, a miracle of alphabetical luck and school administration laziness.

Josh is still talking. Of course he is.

"I'm telling you," he says, walking backward so he can face us, "this girl was into me. Like, eye contact. Smiling. Laughing."

Maya raises an eyebrow. "What's her name?"

Josh gasps, offended. "Wow. You don't trust me at all."

"Oh, I trust you," Maya says sweetly. "I just don't trust your interpretation of reality."

Henry taps Josh on the shoulder, nodding solemnly. "Yeah, bro. You should lie better."

"I'm not lying!" Josh protests. "I really talked to a girl, okay? It's on you if you don't believe me. That's very mean-friend behavior."

"It's not about being mean," Maya replies. "It's about being realistic."

Henry points at her like she just solved world hunger. "Exactly. Realism."

They high-five.

Josh stares at them, betrayed. "Unbelievable."

He turns dramatically away from them and looks at me instead, eyes wide and pleading. "You believe me, right? You believe in me."

Before I can answer, Luke opens his locker beside us and says, without looking up, "Sometimes, Josh."

Josh clutches his chest. "Why does everybody hate me?"

He leans his forehead against his locker door like a tragic hero.

And then Luke's locker explodes.

I'm not exaggerating. The moment Luke pulls the door open, a waterfall of paper and envelopes and small boxes spills out—fluttering down to the floor like the world's most aggressive snowfall.

Valentine cards. Folded notes. Pink envelopes. Glitter. Way too much glitter.

We all freeze.

Luke stares at the mess at his feet.

Slowly, very slowly, he looks up at us. "Which one of you did this?"

No one answers.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "You know I hate mess. This is a complete mess."

Maya squats down immediately, already grabbing a handful of letters. "Wow. Some things really never change. You're still deeply allergic to chaos."

She tilts her head, reading one. "Oh my God. This is from Sarah. Senior year. The one who dated Colton."

Josh drops to his knees. "I told you! I told you you were gonna be famous."

Henry crouches too, scanning another note. "This isn't famous, man. This is... popular."

Luke blinks. "I don't understand what's happening."

Maya gasps again. "Oh wow. They all say the same thing. 'You're brave.' 'You're hot.' 'You're different.'"

Josh snorts. "Different is code for mysterious."

Henry grins. "And mysterious is code for dangerous."

Luke looks genuinely distressed. "This is a lot of work. Someone had to write all of this."

Maya looks up at him, smiling. "Congratulations. You're every girl's fictional bad-boy fantasy now."

I watch him stand there, surrounded by letters, confused and uncomfortable and very much Luke—and something twists in my chest that I don't quite understand yet.

The bell rings again.

"Come on," I say finally. "We're going to be late."

Luke carefully gathers the letters, stacking them neatly despite the chaos, and shuts his locker with more force than necessary.

Josh slaps him on the back. "Welcome to popularity, bro."

Luke sighs. "I hate it already."

———————

By the time the last bell rings, Luke has very aggressively shoved the remaining letters into his backpack like they're evidence in a crime scene.

"This is harassment," he mutters as we spill out of the school gates and onto the sidewalk. "I didn't consent to this."

Josh snickers. "You punched one guy and became a legend. That's how myths are born."

We start walking the familiar route home, backpacks bouncing, the afternoon light turning everything a little softer. Our neighborhoods branch off later, but for now we're all heading the same way, five figures stretched across the pavement like we own it.

Maya is already elbow-deep in Luke's bag.

"Oh no you don't," Luke says, trying to tug it back.

She dodges him easily. "Too late. Public property now."

She clears her throat dramatically and unfolds a pink letter.

'Dear Luke,
I've always noticed you, even before Friday. The way you don't talk much but when you do, it matters. Also, you looked really hot when you punched Colton. I hope you're okay. Maybe we could talk sometime?'

Josh whistles. "Always noticed you. That's terrifying."

Henry laughs. "Also deeply untrue. No one noticed him before Friday."

Luke glares. "Give it back."

Maya ignores him and grabs another.

'I know this might be weird, but you're really brave. Not many guys would stand up like that. If you ever want to hang out, I'd like that.'

Josh grins. "Stand up like that. Incredible branding."

Henry snatches one too, squinting as he reads while walking. "Oof. This one has perfume on it. That's commitment."

Luke groans. "Please stop."

I hesitate, then reach into the bag and pull out one of the less glittery envelopes. I open it carefully.

'You probably don't remember me, but I sit two rows behind you in math. You always smell nice. I just thought you should know.'

I choke on a laugh. "Okay, this one's just unsettling."

Luke's ears turn red. "Why would someone notice that?"

Josh claps his hands. "Because you're the mysterious hot guy now."

"I am not hot," Luke says flatly.

Maya looks him up and down. "I mean. Objectively? You kind of are."

He stops walking. "No."

Henry pats his shoulder. "Accept your fate."

We keep moving, the street narrowing as houses start to look more familiar. Josh peels off first, waving dramatically.

"Don't forget us when you're famous," he calls.

"Please forget me," Luke replies.

A block later, Henry and Maya turn toward their neighborhood.

Maya grins at Luke. "Enjoy your fan mail, celebrity."

She looks at me too, wiggling her eyebrows. "Try not to fall in love with him."

I shove her. "Shut up."

They laugh and disappear down the street.

That leaves just Luke and me, walking side by side in the quiet that always settles when everyone else leaves.

He shifts his backpack. "I hate all of this."

"I know," I say.

We walk past the park, past the bakery that always smells like sugar, past the corner where our paths split but don't quite yet.

After a moment, I add, "For what it's worth... you did the right thing."

He glances at me, surprised. "You think so?"

I shrug. "Yeah. You didn't think. You just acted."

He looks ahead again. "I don't usually do that."

I smile, just a little. "Maybe that's why everyone noticed."

He doesn't reply, but his steps slow, matching mine.

Our houses come into view—mine on the left, his right next door, like they've always been, like they're supposed to be.

We stop.

"See you tomorrow," I say.

"Yeah," he answers. "Tomorrow."

I walk up my steps without looking back.

I don't see him go inside either.

But I know he's still standing there, holding those letters, trying to understand everything.