"I'll probably upgrade eventually," I admit once the laughter dies down. "I just never saw the reason to. I'm not exactly the social type. Who was I going to text? My plants?"
"You have plants?" Sage perks up.
"I have one plant. His name is Gerald. He's a succulent, and he's very judgmental about my life choices."
"I already love Gerald."
"Everyone loves Gerald. He's very charismatic for a plant."
Jace is watching us with an expression I can't quite read. Something soft. Something almost wistful.
"Well," he says, "you're going to be social now, MaeMae. Because you've got friends again. Whether you like it or not."
Friends.
The word settles in my chest like a warm ember.
Friends. Real friends. People who remember me from before and still want to know me now.
I smile, trying to ignore the whisper at the back of my mind.
What if they leave again?
What if Sage disappears like last time? Or if Jace gets bored? All of this could be temporary, like everything good in your life always is?
I shove the thoughts down, burying them under the warmth of this moment.
Stop it. You're allowed to have nice things. At least…allowed to hope.
Even if hope is terrifying and burned you in the ass before.
We finish our meal with lighter conversation. Sage tells me about her hockey team, the Omega league she's been fighting to legitimize since she arrived. Jace shares stories about his classes, the professors he likes, and the ones he's convinced are secretly supervillains. I tell them about my three years of spreadsheet hell, the way my soul slowly died under fluorescent office lighting.
It feels normal. Easy. Like thirteen years didn't pass between us.
Maybe that's the magic of real friendship. It picks up where it left off, no matter how long the pause.
Eventually, Sage glances at her phone and winces.
"Crap. I've got a thing in twenty minutes. Omega league meeting." She looks at me apologetically. "I'd skip it, but our coach is terrifying, and I value my kneecaps."
"Go," I tell her. "I need to grab my timetable anyway. Miss Phillip said the administrative office would have it ready."
"We'll walk you," Jace offers, already standing.
They do. The three of us navigate the halls of Valenridge together, and I try to memorize the route. Left at the fountain. Right at the painting of some stern-looking founder. Straight past the trophy case full of hockey championships and figure skating medals.
Trophy case. Medals. Achievements displayed for everyone to see.
Maybe someday there'll be one with my name on it.
Or I'm getting ahead of myself. Again.
We stop outside the administrative office, the same golden door I vaguely remember from earlier.
My luggage is still there, tucked against the wall where I left it. One sad suitcase and a duffel bag, containing everything I deemed essential for my six-week escape plan.
"This is me," I say, gesturing at the door. "Paperwork round two. Timetable acquisition. Thrilling stuff."
