"First day nerves," Reuben said, extending his hand. "Reuben Rand."
"Luke Dunphy." Luke shook his hand with enthusiasm. "Dude, you're a freshman too? Awesome. I literally just walked into the wrong classroom twice and school hasn't even started. This place is huge."
"It's confusing at first. You get used to it."
"You sound like you've done this before." Luke laughed. "Come on, I'll show you where I think the freshman lockers are. I'm like sixty percent sure I found them earlier."
As they walked into the building, Luke chattering about how he'd already gotten lost looking for the bathroom, Reuben felt the familiar ease of their dynamic clicking into place. Luke was genuinely nice—the kind of person who made friends effortlessly because he actually cared about people.
"So what classes are you in?" Luke asked. "Please tell me you're in bio second period because I desperately need a lab partner who won't accidentally set things on fire."
Reuben smiled, remembering. "I am, actually."
"Yes! Okay, we're lab partners. Done. That's settled." Luke stopped at a bank of lockers. "These are the freshman ones. I think. The numbers seem right."
They spent the next few minutes figuring out their locker combinations while other students filtered past. Reuben kept half his attention on the crowd, cataloging faces, remembering timelines.
"You seem pretty chill for a freshman," Luke observed. "Most people are freaking out way more."
"Just taking it as it comes."
"Smart. Hey, there's this Academic Decathlon thing meeting after school. My sister Alex runs it. You seem smart—you should check it out."
There it was. The opening he had been waiting for.
"Academic Decathlon?" Reuben asked, as if he didn't already know everything about it.
"Yeah, it's like competitive trivia but way more intense. They do competitions and stuff. My sister's super into it." Luke paused. "Fair warning: she's kind of scary. Like, in a smart way. She's a sophomore but she could probably teach most of the classes better than the actual teachers."
"Sounds interesting. I'll check it out."
"Cool. If you do, tell her Luke sent you. Maybe she'll be less terrifying if she knows you're my friend." Luke grinned. "Or more terrifying. It's fifty-fifty with her."
The first bell rang, and they headed to their respective homerooms. Reuben navigated the familiar hallways with practiced ease, finding his classroom without the confusion that had plagued him the first time through.
Third period was AP World History—a class he'd taken before and done well in, despite being the only freshman. The class was one of the few that mixed grade levels, open to any student who tested in regardless of age. Most were seniors, a handful of juniors, two sophomores, and him—the lone freshman.
This time he'd do better than before. Not show-off better, but strategically excellent. Enough to be noticed, not enough to raise suspicions about how a fourteen-year-old knew college-level material.
He took a seat near the back and waited.
Five minutes later, Alex walked in.
She scanned the room with that same careful assessment, chose a seat three rows ahead on the opposite side, and immediately pulled out a notebook to start organizing it before class even began.
Reuben watched her for a moment—the efficient movements, the focused expression, the way she created order out of chaos. He'd seen it a thousand times in his previous life. Sitting at the Dunphy dinner table doing homework while he and Luke played video games. At Academic Decathlon practices. At that coffee shop near campus where she'd studied during college.
He knew her habits, her patterns, her tells.
But she didn't know him. Not yet.
Patience. Strategy. Do it right this time.
Mrs. Henderson—same terrible haircut, same no-nonsense attitude—called the class to order and started taking attendance. When she got to his name, she looked up with interest.
"Reuben Rand? The freshman?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Impressive placement. Let's see if you can keep up."
He could. He had before. This time would just be smoother.
The class proceeded with syllabus review and expectations. Reuben took notes he didn't really need, already knowing the curriculum, but playing the part of attentive student.
When the bell rang, Alex was out the door before he even stood up. Fast, efficient, already moving to her next destination.
No rush. He had time.
Lunch found him back with Luke, who claimed a table near the windows and was already halfway through an enormous sandwich.
"Dude!" Luke waved him over. "How's your day been?"
"Good. You?"
"Confusing but fun. I think I'm gonna like it here." Luke took another massive bite. "Oh, there's this other guy I want you to meet. Manny. He's my step-uncle—it's complicated—but he's cool. Kind of dramatic but in a good way."
Right on cue, a shorter kid with an old-soul demeanor approached their table, dressed more formally than any fourteen-year-old had a right to be.
"Lucas! There you are. I've been searching everywhere. This school is a labyrinth designed by madmen."
"Manny, this is Reuben. Reuben, Manny."
"Manuel Alberto Delgado." Manny offered a formal little bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Reuben Rand. Good to meet you."
As Manny launched into a passionate explanation of why the cafeteria's lunch options were "an insult to cuisine," Reuben felt another piece of his previous life clicking into place. Luke and Manny had been his main friend group. Good guys, genuine friendships.
This time he would invest more in those relationships. Be more present, more engaged. Actually show up instead of just coasting along.
"So Reuben's gonna check out Academic Decathlon," Luke said. "You're doing that, right?"
"Of course. Intellectual competition is the purest form of achievement." Manny turned to Reuben. "You should absolutely join. My sister—step-sister—Alex is the captain. She's brilliant but demanding. Are you prepared for rigorous academic challenge?"
"I think so."
"Excellent. We need more people who take it seriously. Last year we didn't even make it to regionals."
They spent lunch talking about classes, teachers, the general chaos of freshman year. Reuben contributed enough to seem engaged but mostly listened, cataloging information, planning ahead.
Across the cafeteria, he caught a glimpse of Alex sitting alone at a table, reading a physics textbook while eating. The same thing she'd done every day for years. Studying through lunch because she was driven, brilliant, and perpetually worried she wasn't good enough despite being better than everyone else.
He understood her better now than he had at fourteen. Understood the pressure she put on herself, the walls she built, the fear of vulnerability that made her push people away even when she wanted them close.
Understanding was step one.
Earning her trust was step two.
Actually building something real was step three.
But he had time. And this time, he knew what he was doing.
Academic Decathlon tryouts were at 3:30 in room 304. Reuben arrived at 3:25—early enough to seem eager, not so early it was weird.
The room was already half-full with students ranging from freshmen to seniors. And there, at the front, organizing papers with crisp efficiency, was Alex.
She wore jeans and a green cardigan, hair still in that practical ponytail, expression focused and serious as she reviewed what looked like score sheets.
This was her element. Academic competition. The one place where being the smartest person in the room was an asset instead of a liability.
Coach Harmon entered—same stern expression, same no-nonsense energy—and called the meeting to order.
END CHAPTER 1 (2)
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