I woke to the sound of my mother's voice cutting through my dreams—sharp, irritated, impossible to ignore.
"Jack!"
I groaned, rolling onto my side. "Why are you so angry?" I muttered, my words still tangled in sleep. "Let me sleep in."
"We're late," she snapped. "Did you forget something important?"
I squinted at the clock. "The moving date isn't until April fourteenth."
"Yes," she said flatly. "Today is April fourteenth. The movers will be here in five minutes."
That got my attention.
She stood in my doorway, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the empty cardboard box on my desk. "I told you to pack this with the things you wanted to keep with you in the car. It's empty. You have four minutes to grab what you want, get dressed, and get downstairs."
Four minutes.
Twenty-three hours away from everything I knew.
"Northdale is a long drive," she added. "We're already behind."
"Alright," I said, sitting up. "I'm up. I'll be fast. I promise."
I moved on instinct—six hoodies, four pairs of jeans, ten shirts, socks, shoes. My drawing kit. My iPad. My phone. Three books. And finally, a small box I hesitated over before placing carefully on top.
I got dressed, hauled the box downstairs, and set it by the door. "See?" I said lightly. "Four minutes."
Mom only sighed. "Let's go. Time isn't slowing down for us."
We drove fifteen hours straight that first day—only stopping for gas, bathrooms, and food eaten half-awake in the car. By the time we finally crossed into Northdale the next afternoon, the road felt endless, like it had swallowed time itself.
Our new house stood at the end of a quiet street—dark blue siding, cream-white interior. Bigger than our old place. Cleaner. Better.
Still, the thought of a new school made my stomach twist.
I start tomorrow.
"Pizza tonight?" I asked after a moment.
From the other room, I heard a tired but approving, "Yes."
That alone made the day feel survivable.
I went to bed early, exhausted from the drive and unloading what little I could. Morning came too fast. Six-thirty felt criminal, but I forced myself up, dressed, and dragged myself downstairs.
Mom handed me toast. "Have a good day. The bus stop is two houses down, on the right."
"Yeah. I know."
I stepped outside, the air colder than I expected, and headed toward school.
The front office smelled like paper and disinfectant. After a few clipped instructions, they assigned someone to show me around.
Her name was Jasmine.
She had long black hair, bright blue eyes, and an easy confidence—like someone who belonged wherever she stood. When I introduced myself, she smiled.
"You can call me Jas," she said quickly. "That's what everyone does."
And just like that, I was pulled into motion—hallways, classrooms, lockers. English. Science. History. Jas was in two of my classes, and by the time lunch rolled around, she waved me over to a table already crowded with people.
"This is my friend group," she said. "Well, our group now."
There were six of them. An even number.
With me, it made seven.
I didn't miss how the balance shifted.
Introductions came fast—Kevin, Nick, Lily, Mila, and Max. I smiled, nodded, and listened. I was good at that. Better than most people realized.
I noticed things. The glances that lingered too long. The pauses were where something went unsaid.
Jasmine was the center—kind, trusting, the type who got along with everyone. Single. Carrying a crush she didn't know what to do with. She talked about her twelve-year-old brother often, like keeping him close made her feel safe.
Lily sat slightly apart. Dark blond hair, green eyes, sharp tongue. She loved horror movies and hated romance. Her sarcasm cut deep, but no one challenged her. I noticed the way the group avoided certain topics around her—careful, protective.
Mila wanted attention and hated not having it. Red hair, brown eyes, five-foot-five and loud about everything. She watched Nick constantly, even though he barely noticed.
Nick didn't have to try. Popular. Athletic. Basketball and football. He laughed easily, especially when Jasmine spoke, though he never said what he was thinking.
Kevin felt like the oldest one in the room, even though I doubted he actually was. Tall. Quiet. Observant. He said he had a girlfriend, but never elaborated. The kind of guy who knew more than he shared.
Max was chaos wrapped in charm. Pranks, jokes, nonstop energy. He talked about food like it was a religion. Claimed his journal was for comedy, though he guarded it like a secret. He mentioned—half-jokingly—that he might ask Jasmine or Lily out soon.
Seven of us.
The bell rang, sharp and final.
Before we stood, I asked for their numbers. Jas smiled, saved mine, and the others followed, and walked me to my last class of the day.
As I followed her down the hallway, I felt it—the subtle sense that something had shifted.
Like a game had just begun.
And no one knew the rules yet