The school bus rumbled to a stop at the gate of Westbrook High, and Leon stepped off, the chatter of classmates swirling around him like a familiar echo. The red-brick (classroom buildings) loomed ahead, their windows glinting in the morning sun, and the football field to the right still had faint dew on the grass—exactly as he remembered it, yet feels so different now that he's seeing it with 30-year-old eyes.
Mike fell into step beside him, slinging an arm over Leon's shoulders like he always used to. "Man, summer break flew by, huh? I thought I'd never have to sit through Mr. Carter's math lectures again. You still planning to skip his first class?" His voice was casual, even upbeat, but Leon could hear the subtle push—the same way Mike had egged him on to skip classes, ditch homework, and prioritize "fun" over grades back then.
Leon gently shrugged off Mike's arm, keeping his tone neutral. "Nah. Gotta start the year right. Mr. Carter's tests are no joke, and I need to keep my GPA up."
Mike's smile faltered for half a second—so quick Leon might have missed it if he hadn't been watching. "Since when do you care about GPA? You said last year school was 'a waste of time' compared to your 'big tech ideas'."
"People change," Leon said, walking faster toward the main building. He didn't miss the way Mike's jaw tightened as he hurried to catch up.
Inside the hallway, the air smelled like fresh notebooks and cafeteria cinnamon rolls. Students crowded the lockers, laughing and swapping summer stories, but Leon's gaze locked onto a girl standing by the bulletin board—Clara, with her chestnut hair tied in a ponytail, scribbling something in a notebook. In his past life, Clara had been his first girlfriend, the one who'd stayed by him even when his business was struggling… until Mike had bribed her to leave with a check. He'd always regretted not fighting for her, not seeing how scared she'd been of Mike's threats.
"Hey, you staring at Clara?" Mike followed his gaze, a teasing lilt in his voice. "You gonna finally ask her out this year? I told you last semester she's into you—she kept asking about you when you skipped that party."
Leon's fists clenched at his sides. Mike had known. He'd known Leon liked Clara, and he'd still manipulated her later. But he forced himself to relax, turning back to Mike with a faint, noncommittal nod. "Maybe. We'll see."
Before Mike could say more, the first bell rang, and students started rushing to class. Leon grabbed his locker key—still the same brass key with a scratch on the bow—and twisted it open. Inside, there were a few old textbooks, a crumpled poster of his favorite band, and a note from his mom: "Don't forget to eat lunch!" He tucked the note into his backpack, a warmth spreading in his chest.
As he pulled out his math notebook, a voice behind him made him freeze. "Leon? Is that really you showing up on time?"
He turned to see Mr. Carter, his math teacher—tall, with a bushy mustache and a habit of carrying a wooden ruler—standing there, raising an eyebrow. In his past life, Leon had skipped Mr. Carter's class so many times the teacher had eventually given up on him. But now, Leon smiled, genuine this time. "Yeah, Mr. Carter. Figured I'd start third year off right. Thanks for letting me slide last semester—I won't let you down this time."
Mr. Carter's eyes widened, then he grinned, tapping Leon's locker with his ruler. "Well, I'll hold you to that. Class starts in five—don't be late."
As Mr. Carter walked away, Leon felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Clara, her notebook tucked under her arm, a shy smile on her face. "Hey, Leon. I heard you're not skipping math today. That's… good. I was gonna ask if you wanted to study together sometime? I'm kinda stuck on algebra."
For a second, Leon just stared. This was the second chance he'd dreamed of—not just to fix his mistakes with his family or his business, but to fix things with her too. He nodded, his voice softer than he intended. "Yeah, that'd be great. How about after school tomorrow? We can go to the library."
Clara's smile brightened. "Perfect. I'll save you a seat." She waved, then hurried to her class.
Leon watched her go, then closed his locker. When he turned, he saw Mike leaning against the wall a few feet away, his expression unreadable. "Studying with Clara, huh? You really are acting weird today."
Leon met his gaze, no longer hiding the coldness in his eyes. "Weird is just me not being stupid anymore. C'mon—we'll be late for class."
He walked toward the classroom, leaving Mike standing there. As he stepped into Mr. Carter's class, the sound of chalk on the blackboard, the rustle of notebooks, and the quiet chatter of classmates wrapped around him. This campus, once a place of wasted potential and missed chances, was now his first battlefield.
Undercurrents were already surging—Mike's confusion, Clara's warmth, Mr. Carter's newfound hope. Leon took a seat in the front row (a spot he'd never occupied before) and pulled out his notebook.
This time, he wasn't just here to go to school. He was here to win.