Nicolas got out of the car with his backpack slung over one shoulder and carefully closed the door. His mother watched him for a few extra seconds before driving off.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her face full of concern. "You've changed since the race."
"I'm fine," Nicolas replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "Really."
She hesitated but nodded and drove away.
The campus was busier than he remembered. Groups of students moved in different directions, some laughing, others still half-asleep. Nicolas walked among them with a strange feeling in his chest, as if he were moving through a memory that no longer entirely belonged to him.
It was the start of the school year, and he didn't remember that one of his responsibilities was school. He hadn't been the most studious either.
Second class… building B, he thought, orienting himself with a list of assigned classes.
The opening assembly had already started when he entered the gym. Rows were formed, the murmurs contained in the air, and teachers walked among the students with serious expressions. He paused for a second at the entrance, observing and looking for his assigned class.
It wasn't nostalgia he felt, but something more uncomfortable—it was strange to get used to being around so many teenagers.
"Nicolas," a firm voice whispered at his side.
The physical education teacher gave him a brief gesture to join his group.
"Hurry up."
"Yes, sorry," he murmured, moving quickly to the end of the line.
The ceremony went as usual. Long speeches, repeated warnings, vague promises about "the best year of your life." Nicolas listened just enough. His attention was elsewhere, trying to remember his classmates.
When they were finally dismissed, the students began to disperse. Nicolas left the gym with the rest, climbing the stairs toward his classroom.
"Hey… Nico?"
The voice stopped him, and he turned to see a beautiful girl, a few centimeters taller than him and wearing glasses.
For a moment, neither said anything. They just looked at each other, as if checking that the other was real.
"It's been years since I last saw you," she finally said, adjusting her backpack strap. "I thought you had changed schools."
"No," Nicolas replied. "I… was just busy."
It was Maya Broks, a girl who lived three houses away from his and with whom he had shared childhood moments. She was a few years older, but as children it hadn't mattered—they played outside and went on what she used to call "disturbing adventures.
A silly TV show that had obsessed her as a child.
She smiled as she approached and placed a hand on his head. "You always were."
They walked together to the classroom, unhurried. They talked about small things: a teacher who had resigned, a park that had closed, a store that no longer existed. Neither mentioned the past or why they had stopped talking.
Before entering, she stopped.
"You're different," she said, studying him carefully. "I couldn't tell you how exactly."
Nicolas held her gaze.
"Maybe I grew up a little late."
She nodded, accepting the answer without pressing further.
"I'm glad to see you, Nico."
"Me too."
They parted there. She went in first. Nicolas stayed a second longer before heading toward his locker. He left his backpack there and walked to his classroom, trying to process what had just happened. He had a few minutes before class started, so he let his mind wander while observing the room, which felt both familiar and strange.
The desks were arranged the same as always. The murmur was the same. Even the smell of markers and old notebooks lingered. Yet, something felt different.
Finally, the homeroom teacher entered, and the noise abruptly stopped.
"Students, settle down," he said firmly. "I know it's the first day of school, but save your energy for the rest of the year. Now that you're in the final year, you'll face the extra pressure of high school entrance exams."
The class responded with a collective groan, causing a slight smile on Nicolas's face. The teacher shook his head.
"You'll see. When you grow up, these so-called 'terrible' exams will seem trivial," he continued. "I remember when I…"
He began to ramble, telling a long, irrelevant anecdote about his college years. In less than a minute, the classroom's attention had completely dissolved.
The low hum of gossip returned, this time quieter.
"Hey, did you hear?" someone whispered from the back. "A new kid's coming today."
"Transferred?"
"That's what they say."
"From where?"
"No idea. But I heard he's weird."
"Weird how?"
"Geeky. They say he knows everything about Formula 1."
"Formula 1? Really?"
"Yes. He spends all day watching old races and talking about regulations and engines."
Nicolas lifted his gaze slightly, interested without realizing it. He didn't remember ever hearing about or meeting anyone like that in the past. Although he had heard of the butterfly effect, he didn't believe that something could change so much just by acting differently—or by finishing fourth in that competition.
"He's probably one of those nerds who never talks," another voice added. "Bet he wears huge glasses."
"Or a Ferrari cap," they laughed quietly.
Nicolas looked forward again. He didn't smile, but he didn't ignore the comment either. In his previous life, he would have just passed it by. Now, however, something told him paying attention wasn't a bad idea.
The teacher cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the class.
"Alright. Before we begin, we have a new student joining us this year."
The murmurs slowly ceased.
Nicolas straightened in his seat.