The slam of Tiffany's expensive front door still echoed in Jake's ears as he walked home, the humiliation a hot, stinging flush across his cheeks. Katy had been right. Every single word. He had blundered, spectacularly, into the viper's nest, not only failing to get any information but also potentially unleashing Tiffany's full social wrath upon his sister. Guilt gnawed at him, a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth.
When he finally reached his own front door, the house was quiet, a silence that spoke of absence. Their parents were on a business trip, a week-long conference that had left Jake and Katy to their own devices, a rare and usually welcomed freedom that now felt heavy with responsibility. No comforting scent of his mom's cooking, no casual greetings. Just the empty house, amplifying his recent defeat. His heart sank further. How could he tell Katy? How could he admit he'd ignored her warnings, charged headlong into a Tiffany-shaped trap, and likely made her life infinitely worse, all without any parental buffer? He couldn't. Not yet. The shame was too profound, the fear of her disappointment too heavy.
He slipped inside quietly, dropping his backpack by the coat rack with a soft thud. He heard Katy's voice from the living room, talking on the phone, probably to Sarah or another friend, her animated chatter a familiar backdrop. He didn't wait for a response, practically sprinting up the stairs. He closed his bedroom door behind him, leaning against it, breathing heavily. The air in his room, usually a sanctuary, felt thick with his own failure. He looked at the shimmering portal, a silent, beckoning promise of a world where he was a god, where such petty human failures simply didn't exist. He yearned to step through, to shed the skin of Jake and embrace the boundless power of Aethelred, to forget the sting of Tiffany's sneer.
But he couldn't. Not yet. Not when the problem was so stubbornly, infuriatingly human.
He sank onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. He had failed. Miserably. But even through the crushing weight of his guilt, a tiny, stubborn ember of determination glowed. He couldn't give up. Not now. Old Man Henderson. The Cubix Power. It was too important. Tiffany was the only link, however infuriatingly uncooperative. He had to find a way. He had to break her. He had to get the information.
He knew he couldn't just walk up to her door again. That was a dead end. He needed a different strategy. A more… persistent one. One that would wear her down, chip away at her defenses, until she was so utterly fed up, so desperate for him to leave her alone, that she would tell him anything just to make him disappear. He would shake off the embarrassment, ignore the threats. This was for Aethelred. This was for understanding.
The next morning, the summer sun was already bright, promising another hot day. Jake began his campaign of calculated annoyance. School was out, which meant his strategy had to adapt. He couldn't rely on the structured environment of Northwood Middle. He needed to find Tiffany in her natural summer habitat.
His first step was more reconnaissance. He spent the early part of the week observing, riding his bike discreetly through her neighborhood, noting the times she left her house, the places her car seemed to frequent. He saw her driving to the community pool, to the upscale mall on the edge of town, to a popular frozen yogurt shop. These were her summer haunts.
His campaign began with the community pool. He knew Tiffany often went there with Brittany and Chelsea, lounging by the side, oblivious to anyone outside their clique. Jake, who usually avoided the pool like the plague, now found himself buying a day pass. He wouldn't swim; he'd just… exist. He'd find a lounge chair a few rows behind them, open a book, and every now and then, when he knew she might glance his way, he'd look up, offer a small, earnest smile, and a quiet, almost imperceptible nod.
The first time he did it, Tiffany, mid-gossip, choked on her iced tea. Brittany and Chelsea exchanged bewildered glances. "What do you want, Miller?" Tiffany hissed, her voice low and dangerous, audible even over the splashing of other kids.
"Just enjoying the sun," Jake replied, his smile unwavering, though his heart hammered against his ribs. He knew this was going to be hard.
"Don't," she snarled, adjusting her sunglasses. "Just… don't. Stay away from me."
Jake nodded, still smiling. He then went back to his book, leaving Tiffany fuming, her friends whispering behind their hands.
He repeated the tactic at the frozen yogurt shop. He'd wait until he saw her car pull into the parking lot, then he'd casually stroll in, order a small cup, and find a table within her line of sight. Every few minutes, he would glance over, catch her eye, and offer that same small, almost imperceptible nod. She would glare, her spoon clattering against her cup, but he would simply look away, as if his gaze had been entirely innocent. It was maddeningly subtle, yet infuriatingly present.
By the end of the first week, Tiffany was visibly agitated. He saw her at the mall, whispering furiously to Brittany, gesturing wildly in his direction after he'd "accidentally" walked past their table at the food court three times. Jake felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. Phase one: annoyance, was working.
The next few days followed a similar pattern, escalating slightly with each passing hour. Jake never confronted her directly, never raised his voice, never made a scene. He simply… existed in her periphery. If she was at the mall, he was nearby, browsing a store across the aisle. If she was at the library, he was at a table within her line of sight, seemingly absorbed in a book, but occasionally glancing up. If she was walking down a street, he might just happen to be walking a few paces behind her, or turn a corner just as she did. He never said anything, never did anything overtly threatening. He was just there. A persistent, quiet shadow.
Tiffany's reactions grew more theatrical. She would slam her car door shut, stomp her feet, or let out exasperated sighs loud enough for half the park to hear. She tried ignoring him, but his unwavering, almost innocent presence was impossible to shake. She tried glaring, but he would meet her gaze with a placid, slightly curious expression that only fueled her rage. She tried complaining to her friends, but Jake was always doing something innocuous – reading, walking, eating ice cream. "He's just… always there!" she'd shriek to a bewildered Brittany, who could only offer a sympathetic shrug.
The other kids in Northwood, of course, noticed. Teenagers were sharks, sensing weakness and drama from a mile away, especially during the long, lazy days of summer when gossip was the primary form of entertainment. At first, it was just whispers on group chats and phone calls. "Why is Jake Miller always around Tiffany Hayes?" "Did you see Tiffany freak out at Jake at the pool today?"
Then, the interpretations began. Jake, the quiet, dorky new kid, was suddenly showing a strange, unwavering interest in Tiffany, the most popular (and meanest) girl in town. And Tiffany, who usually dismissed dorks with a flick of her perfectly manicured hand, was reacting to him with an intensity that seemed… disproportionate.
"Dude, what's going on with you and Tiffany?" Michael asked Jake one afternoon when they were playing video games at Michael's house, his voice low with a mix of curiosity and concern. "She looked like she was going to spontaneously combust when you walked past her at the ice cream shop yesterday."
Jake shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "No idea. I just… keep running into her."
Jane, who was also there, ever observant, narrowed her eyes. "Jake, you're not 'just running into her.' You're like, a professional stalker. And she's acting like you two are in some kind of secret, super-dramatic relationship."
Jake's eyes widened. "What?! That's ridiculous! I don't have a crush on Tiffany! And we're definitely not in a relationship!" The thought alone was enough to make him shudder.
"Tell that to the entire eighth grade," Jane said dryly. "Brittany and Chelsea are already spreading rumors that you're 'obsessed' with her, and Tiffany's 'secretly into it' because she keeps 'reacting so much.' It's like a soap opera, Jake. A really weird, dorky soap opera, playing out all over Northwood this summer."
The words hit Jake like a physical blow. A false rumor. Exactly what Katy had feared. And it was all his fault. But even as the shame washed over him, the stubborn ember of his mission refused to be extinguished. This was frustrating Tiffany, wasn't it? If she was reacting this strongly, it meant his persistence was working. She was getting desperate. He just needed to push harder.
He escalated. He started leaving small, innocuous notes in places she would find them: tucked under her windshield wiper when her car was parked at the mall, slid under her front door when he knew she was out, even once slipped into her pool bag when she wasn't looking (a risky maneuver that made his heart pound). The notes were simple: "Still waiting for those answers about Old Man Henderson," or "The truth will set you free," or "Just a few questions, Tiffany." No threats, no demands, just a relentless, quiet insistence.
Tiffany's fury reached new heights. She would crumple the notes with a snarl, stomp on them, or tear them into tiny pieces. She tried to catch him in the act, but Jake, with his residual heightened awareness and a touch of strategic thinking (a subtle, non-supernatural benefit of his time as Aethelred), was always one step ahead. He was a dork, yes, but a dork on a mission.
The rumors, fueled by Tiffany's increasingly public outbursts and Jake's unwavering presence, spiraled out of control. "Did you hear? Jake Miller and Tiffany Hayes are totally a thing!" "No way! Tiffany? With him?" "Yeah, but she's playing hard to get, and he's totally obsessed." The story mutated, twisted, and grew with each retelling, becoming a ridiculous, yet strangely compelling, narrative that captivated the middle school. Jake, the invisible dork, was suddenly the center of a bizarre, unwanted romantic drama, playing out across Northwood's summer hotspots.
Tiffany, for her part, was absolutely livid. The rumors were humiliating. Her carefully constructed image as the untouchable queen of mean, the girl who had boys tripping over themselves, was being tarnished by association with Jake Miller. It was an insult to her very existence. She tried to shut down the rumors, to deny them with furious indignation, but her very denials only seemed to confirm them in the eyes of the gossip-hungry student body. She looked desperate, which was a look Tiffany Hayes never wore. She couldn't understand why Jake was doing this. Why him? Why her? It was maddening.
Jake, while aware of the rumors, tried to compartmentalize them. They were an unfortunate side effect, a necessary cost. He was focused on the prize: information. The more frustrated Tiffany became, the closer he was to breaking her. He convinced himself that her anger was a sign of progress, not just social chaos. He was a scientist, running an experiment, and Tiffany was the unwilling subject.
But the constant tension, the need to be ever-present and ever-elusive, began to wear on him. He found himself checking his surroundings constantly, anticipating Tiffany's movements, planning his next subtle disturbance. He was spending less time in the realm, less time with Aethelred, his focus entirely consumed by this real-world, human-sized problem. The quest for Old Man Henderson, which had felt so grand and cosmic, had devolved into a petty, exhausting war of attrition with a popular girl.
Katy, meanwhile, watched her brother with growing alarm. She heard the whispers on group chats, saw the knowing glances and stifled giggles when Jake and Tiffany were spotted in the same vicinity. She saw Tiffany's face, contorted with a rage that went beyond her usual meanness, and she saw Jake, pale but determined, moving through Northwood like a ghost, always near Tiffany, always just out of reach.
"Jake," she confronted him one evening, cornering him as he tried to sneak into his room. The house was quiet, their parents still away, making the confrontation feel more isolated, more urgent. "What is going on between you and Tiffany? Everyone's talking. They're saying… they're saying you two are… a thing." She couldn't even bring herself to say the words without a shudder of disbelief.
Jake flinched, turning away. "It's nothing, Katy. Just stupid rumors. Kids are bored. It's summer."
"Bored?" Katy scoffed. "Jake, Tiffany looks like she wants to murder you! And you're following her around like a lost puppy! What did you do after I told you not to go to her house?" Her eyes narrowed, a cold, knowing glint in them. "You went, didn't you? You went and asked her about her grandpa, and she freaked out, and now you're trying to… what? Annoy her into submission?"
Jake remained silent, his shoulders hunched.
Katy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Jake, this is insane. You're jeopardizing everything. My social life, your… whatever this is you're doing. This isn't how you get information. You're just making her hate you more. And you're making yourself look like a complete idiot."
"I have to, Katy!" Jake burst out, finally turning to face her, his eyes blazing with a desperate intensity. "She's the only one! She has to know something! It's about Old Man Henderson, it's about the Cubix Power! It's about understanding me!"
Katy stared at him, a mixture of exasperation and profound worry on her face. He was so consumed, so utterly oblivious to the real-world consequences of his actions. He was Jake, the dork, but he was driven by a god's insatiable hunger for knowledge, a hunger that was now manifesting in the most painfully human, socially disastrous way imaginable.
"Jake," she said, her voice softer, laced with a genuine plea. "You're going to get yourself, and me, in serious trouble. This isn't worth it. There has to be another way."
But Jake just shook his head, his jaw set. "There isn't. Not yet. I have to keep trying." He pushed past her, heading into his room, leaving Katy standing in the hallway, the weight of his impossible secret, and his increasingly impossible actions, pressing down on her. This summer was indeed becoming very, very complicated. And the rumors were just the beginning.