I waited a little while, staring at the screen, hoping she'd accept my friend request. But minutes passed, and there was nothing. No notification. No message. Just silence. The longer I stared, the more irritated I felt. Maybe she didn't know… or maybe she just didn't care to. And who would even accept a stranger's request. Either way, I couldn't force anything.
I sighed and kept scrolling through my old tablet, searching for something—anything—that might give me a clue. A memory. A trace. Then, suddenly, there it was. A soft ping. Reese had accepted my request.
My heart leapt. I was overwhelmed with joy. I wanted to scream, laugh, cry—all at once. My finger hovered over her name, ready to click and message her. But before I could even touch the screen, something strange happened.
The air shifted.
The room dimmed, and I felt a pull—like my whole body was being swallowed into something warm and nostalgic. The next moment, I wasn't in my bedroom anymore. I was in the middle of an 8th-grade classroom.
My 8th-grade English class.
I blinked rapidly. The cheap plastic desks. The whiteboard. The posters on the wall. And sitting right next to me, like nothing had changed, was Rachel.
My breath caught in my throat. I looked at her with wide eyes, like I'd just discovered something I'd lost for years. "Rachel?" I whispered, then louder, "RACHEL!"
Without thinking, I grabbed her face with both hands. "Is it really you? ARE YOU REALLY RACHEL?" I flung my arms around her in a hug, overwhelmed with emotion.
Then came the voice I had completely forgotten about.
"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing? Is this a joke to you?"
It was my old English teacher. Her sharp voice snapped me out of the daze. I stood up slowly, everyone staring, and I could feel Rachel's confusion radiating off her like heat. Reese and Amelia sat behind us, wide-eyed.
My heart was pounding. Adrenaline rushed through me like wildfire, but all I could do was look down.
What just happened?
How did I get here?
Was time playing tricks on me? Was this a dream?
And then came the terrifying realization that somehow… this was only the beginning.
I couldn't understand what was really happening. My mind couldn't grasp the situation—none of it made sense.
That was until I heard my teacher's voice cut through the chaos in my head: "Keep standing."
I looked around, the entire classroom staring at me with strange, confused expressions.
I gave an awkward, goofy smile, then quickly froze in place. It was so painfully embarrassing. But honestly… it didn't even matter anymore.
Right now, the only thing on my mind was: how did this happen? How did I came here now?
Was it because I clicked on Reese's profile? Did that trigger this madness?
I felt like tearing my hair out.
As I stood there getting punished, Rachel leaned in and whispered, "Why the hell did you do that? Are you insane?"
Behind me, I could hear her again, louder this time: "Did something break in your head?"
Ameli muttered just low enough that the teacher wouldn't hear, "Maybe. That's probably why she screamed out of nowhere."
I turned to them and gave a goofy smile, trying to brush it off.
Rachel narrowed her eyes and said, "I knew it. She's lost it." Then, with a mocking look, she added, "Autistic. Serves you right."
Ameli snorted. "Bro gave full psycho."
Their words started to grate on me. Here I was, trying to make sense of how I even ended up here, and they were acting like I'd punched the teacher. I had to stand the entire English class.
When I finally got to sit down, my friends were still staring at me like I'd grown another head.
"Guys, cut it out," I said. "I had a reason for that."
Ameli raised an eyebrow. "What kind of reason makes someone scream in the middle of Mrs. Johnson's class?"
Reese chimed in, "Thank God she didn't kick you out."
Then Rachel leaned in again. "What level of autistic are you now?"
I let out a frustrated sigh. "I told you—I had a reason. I just got really surprised and didn't know how else to react."
Rachel scoffed. "You grabbed my face and screamed like I'd just come back from the dead. Only an idiot would do that."
If only you knew, Rachel. If only you knew that to me… you had come back from the dead.
But sadly, I couldn't say a word.
In my head, the question buzzed relentlessly—how did I get here? Was it the tablet? Every thought pressed against my skull like a storm, making my head pound. It felt like time itself was toying with me.
First, I was hit by a car. Then I woke up in the year I was in sixth grade. Just as I was beginning to accept that reality—accept the strange request that appeared on my tablet—I was suddenly yanked through time again.
Now I was in eighth grade.
Why was I teleporting? Where was I, really?
I glanced at Rachel as she laughed, already distracted by some meaningless conversation. But if I had landed here, there had to be a reason. There was always a reason.
Without thinking, I asked, "Do you know Raven?"
Rachel blinked, staring at me like I'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. "Who? And since when do you talk to random guys?"
I fumbled for an answer. "I mean, no. It's just… you know a lot of people, so I figured you might know him."
She raised an eyebrow, suspicious. I could tell she didn't believe me.
But what could I even say? That Raven is your so-called future husband, Rachel?
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Who's this guy named Raven? Tell me clearly. Or… is he someone you like?"
"Rachel," I said flatly. "Do you honestly think I would ever like a guy? Me?"
She tilted her head, smirking. "Umm… no, not really."
Then she added with mock suspicion, "Which is exactly why it's weird you're bringing up some random guy's name."
Before I could respond, Reese chimed in, "Everyone's unpredictable. What if you do have a boyfriend?" She laughed. "Just kidding."
I rolled my eyes. "If I did, it wouldn't be half as surprising as you getting one."
Reese scoffed. "I am never—and I mean never—getting a boyfriend."
I nearly burst out laughing. If only she knew.
The day she got her first boyfriend in high school, I literally fell off the sofa when I heard about it. That's how shocking it was.
"We'll see," I said with a smirk.
"Oh, you'll see," she shot back dramatically. "My so-called boyfriend."
If only I could show her the future—the way she'd fall into that unstable relationship with an even more unstable guy.
But for now, I just kept it to myself.
After class ended, I stayed behind for extra sessions. Rachel didn't usually attend the extra classes back then, so it was just me and a few others.
I overheard Reese and Ameli chatting nearby, clearly heading to class too. I walked up to them.
"Hey, y'all. Which teacher do we have today?" I asked.
Ameli glanced at me. "Sherrill Sir's class. Did you forget or something?"
Then it hit me.
Mr. Sherrill.
A cold wave ran down my spine. That man… he'd been kicked out of school in the future—for inappropriate behavior toward someone who would later become my friend.
Before I could get lost in that disturbing memory, Reese snapped me back to the present.
"Hey, dummy. What are you zoning out for? Aren't you coming to Sherrill Sir's class?"
I nodded slowly, trying to mask the sudden fear twisting in my stomach.
"Yeah… coming," I muttered.
But every step I took toward that classroom felt heavier than the last.
Even though, in the past, I'd chosen not to believe my friend—I know that probably makes me look like a bad person. But the truth wasn't black and white. There were parts of her story that didn't quite sit right. Still, when I first heard it, I was fully on her side. I tried to be a good friend. I really did.
But later… some of the things she said cut deeper than I expected. Words that made me question everything. So, in the end, I stopped believing anyone. I chose silence. Neutrality.
Even so, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as I headed toward Mr. Sherrill's class.
Reese's voice broke through my thoughts. "Hey, Oakley, how about you sit in the back today? It gets kinda hot if we all squeeze together."
I nodded, saying nothing. It would've been immature to argue. Besides, I remembered how they used to treat me—like the extra piece in a puzzle that didn't quite fit.
I slipped into a seat at the back, quiet and unnoticed. A few moments later, Mr. Sherrill walked in.
Reese and Ameli were whispering something to each other, giggling. When I asked what they were talking about, Ameli waved me off. "You wouldn't get it."
Like I was some toddler incapable of understanding basic conversation. I let it go. I already knew what they were talking about anyway—typical teenage gossip, most likely about their latest crushes. I even knew who they'd end up crushing on. Not that I remembered half their names anymore.
Mr. Sherrill handed out study material for the lesson. I sighed. Another day of memorizing things that feel pointless.
That's what always bothered me about the education system—how little of it actually seemed useful.
Still, I pulled myself together. I had to play the role. Ameli always recited her lesson first, so I mirrored her—watching how she spoke, when she paused. Sir never really looked at our faces when we spoke anyway, so it was easy to sneak a peek at the paper if needed.
And so the class dragged on.
Reese and Ameli kept whispering their secrets, same as always. I sat there, the odd one out.
But honestly? It didn't even matter anymore.
Because later on, Ameli would switch schools.
And then, it would just be the three of us—Rachel, Reese, and me—left behind. But even that wouldn't last. Our class sections would be reshuffled, and somehow, Reese would end up in a different one. That left only Rachel and me, stuck in the same classroom, day after day.
Yeah. Life goes on like that—quietly shifting, rearranging people and places like puzzle pieces you didn't even realize were missing.
But none of that mattered right now.
What mattered was understanding why I was here. Why was I sent back to this moment, this specific point in time? Why now?
And most of all—what really happened to Rachel?
Why did she die?
The question echoed through me like a cold wind in an empty hallway. Something wasn't adding up, and the deeper I went, the more it felt like someone—or something—wanted me to find out the truth.
I had to keep watching. Listening. Remembering.
Because somewhere in all of this… the answers were waiting.