I wake up after a good night rest. I would have slept more if that pesky woodpecker is not pecking my window.
Guess that's my new alarm. I've slept over the problems of yesterday Nad now, I feel alive, no more scared. I get up and shoo that woodpecker away from my window.
I look at myself in the mirror and smile. I'm such a wonderful creature. I walk to my closet and take out my robe so I can have a shower.
I change into it and head into the shower. After 15 minutes, I step out and brush my teeth. Ah, so refreshing. It feels good being clean.
I take out the clothes I want to wear today. A crimson cropped top with leather jorts. Perfect combo. I wear it and run to Oliver's room. He's awake, cause he's not on the bed, maybe he's in the bathroom.
"Oliver? Are you there?"
"Yes." He says in his regular excited tone. How sweet.
I run downstairs to see mom and dad with their suitcases. What's happening?
"Mom, dad? What's this?"
"Molly, we're going for a meeting in Perú." Mom says.
"That's sudden."
"We know, so while we are gone, don't cause any issues and take care of Oliver and try to be alert around Jason." Mom says and I just look at them. What sort of company or organization would call people from far away to attend a meeting?
"Okay, bye mom, bye dad."
"Bye Molly and oh, tell Oliver that we're going back. He'll understand."
"Sure." I say, waving them goodbye and continue preparing myself for school.
I go to Oliver's room and also prepare him for school. We eat and hit the streets.
I have a feeling that this morning is going to feel aggressively normal. Which means Jason is definitely going to ruin it. Stella and I are halfway down the hallway when I see him leaning against my locker like he pays rent for it.
Of course. He spots me and straightens immediately, a slow grin spreading across his face like he's been waiting all morning for this exact moment.
"There she is," he says.
"I was gone?" I ask.
"Yup, after the incident. You looked horrible."
"You were imagining that."
"I don't imagine. I observe."
I stop walking. "That's my line."
He shrugs. "I upgraded it."
Stella snorts beside me. "I'm going to class before you two start a documentary."
She leaves us there, and Jason immediately steps closer than necessary.
"You look like you argued with someone," he says casually.
"You look like you enjoy making assumptions."
"I do."
I open my locker and start pulling out my books. He leans against the metal door so I have to angle my arm awkwardly.
"Move," I say calmly.
"No."
I stare at him. He stares back, completely unbothered.
"Why are you like this?" I ask.
"Like what?"
"Persistent."
"Annoying?" he suggests.
"That too."
He grins wider. "You don't actually mind."
I close my locker with more force than needed. "You have an impressive ability to misread situations."
"I don't misread. I test."
"Test what?"
"How much you'll tolerate."
I blink at him once. Inside my head, a white room appears again. Clean walls. Quiet air. Jason standing in the center — except this version of him is pacing in circles, knocking over invisible furniture just to see if I'll react.
He's not mysterious. He's disruptive. In the real hallway, he snaps his fingers lightly in front of my face. What the fuck? Since when did I start visualising Jason?
"You drift off like that a lot," he says.
"I was thinking."
"About me?"
"About how peaceful this hallway would be if you transferred schools."
He laughs. We start walking toward class, and he deliberately bumps my shoulder. I don't look at him.
"You talked to your parents," he says.
"They are gone. You talk too much."
"What? When? That's not a denial."
I sigh softly. "Today and yes."
"And?"
"And they went to Peru."
"That sounds vague."
"It's meant to be."
He walks slightly ahead of me, then turns so he's walking backward just to keep eye contact. He laughs. In my mental room, I study him more carefully now. What's happening?
He makes noise on purpose. He pushes boundaries just enough to see where they are. But there's something else there — something controlled beneath the chaos.
"Are you trying to distract me?" I ask.
"From what?"
"Whatever you don't want me thinking about."
He pauses mid-step. That's it. Just half a second. Then he recovers.
"You think I have secrets?" he asks lightly but I told you everything."
"No."
"See? Hypocrite."
"I'm not the one with a notorious ex-convict for a father."
The words leave my mouth calmly. He stops walking. The hallway noise continues around us. For once, he doesn't have a clever reply ready.
"I'm not him," he says.
"You've said that before."
"And you don't believe me?"
"I didn't say that either." He studies me carefully now. Inside my head, the white room shifts. The version of Jason standing there isn't knocking things over anymore. He's standing still. Watching me back.
"You analyze everything," he says quietly.
"Yes."
"It's exhausting."
"For you?"
"For anyone you look at like that."
"That sounds like guilt."
"It sounds like self-defense."
We start walking again, slower this time.
"You know what's funny?" he says after a moment.
"What?"
"You think you're calm."
"I am."
"You're not."
"I am."
"No," he says, smirking slightly as his usual energy creeps back in. "It's dangerous."
I raise an eyebrow. "Should I be offended?"
"Maybe."
"Try harder."
He laughs again. There it is. The annoying version of him resurfaces, nudging my shoulder again.
"You like me," he says confidently.
"I tolerate you."
"That is step one."
"In your delusional guidebook?"
"Exactly." he says.
We reach the classroom door. He grabs it before I can and holds it open dramatically.
"After you," he says with exaggerated politeness. Tsk, how painful.