LOUIS
“Hey, do I know you?” The guy standing at his locker side-eyes me. He’s also, like, trying real hard to avoid eye contact. ‘Fucking rude.’ But he moves his backpack to the other side of him, so he doesn’t have to look at me. “Hey.” I put my hand on his shoulder. He sighs and stands up. “Do I know you?”

“No.” He turns back and gets on his knees to take out some books.

I shift my weight to my other foot. “Are…you okay?”

He pulls a book from his locker. No answer.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel weird or something. I just…”

He stands and looks at me with his brown eyes. He looks bored of this already. “I don’t know you. Sorry.” He slams his locker door and zips up his backpack. And he heads towards the P Stairwell.

I follow him. “I can walk with you. I got nowhere to be.”

“I do.”

“What class?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Humor me.”

“Consumer Ed.”

I laugh. “You hate consumer ed, though.”

He hesitates. He doesn’t stop, but he slows down. His eyes are big. But he breathlessly laughs and asks, “Doesn’t everyone?”

I swing my feet as I walk to him. “I believe your words were, ‘With a vicious passion’.” I smile and adjust my glasses.

He gets flustered. Visibly flustered. And it’s actually really cute. He plants his feet and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Look, did Erica put you up to this?”

I feel my stomach drop. “Erica?”

“Erica McCormick. I know you guys are ‘buddies’ – ” He actually does the fucking airquotes. “ – in your weird ‘Student Morale’ club.” He sighs, and looks ready to strangle something. “God, why can’t she just – ” The bell rings, and he quickly pushes past me. “Look. I gotta go. And you can tell Erica that this wasn’t funny.” He mumbles something as he turns, and sprints away to the staircase.

I sigh. ‘Did I get the wrong guy?’ I spiral at the thought. But I shake my head at it. Because I know I’ve seen those brown eyes before. ‘He was really nervous, though.’ I turn back around and head towards the A Stairwell. “Maybe I’m just crazy,” I chuckle, but there’s something really unnerving about the thought. 

So I totally don’t remember how I got to the cafeteria, but I find myself walking towards the black box theater rather than trying to eat something. I’m starving, but I’m not hungry. I just go sit on the stage of the theater. And because it’s cool and dark during the lunch periods.

I’m also not sure how long I was there for, because the door to the hallway opened and Jessie came in. She’s this fiery red, curly-haired girl who I just so happen to be running scenes with me for her theater class. I was supposed to meet her here anyways, but I guess I lost track of time.

“There you are!” she announces, and I sit up from lying on the edge of the stage. “You texted me that we were doing this in the hallway.”

I shrug. “Sorry. Wasn’t in the mood to be in daylight.”

She laughs because she likes me. Also because she has a crush on me. I feel bad for her because we’ve been friends for three years, and she knows I don’t like her back. “No, but seriously. Why are you in here?”

“…huh?”

“Where are you today, Randolph?” She smiles and sits next to me. She takes out her theater folder.

“I told you. I’m not in the mood to be in light.”

Jessie blinks moves her shit away. “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s on your mind?”

I sigh. “Do you ever…have these…moments, of, just…”

“You have such a way with words,” she teases.

I take off my glasses and put my palm over her face. “Shut up. I’m trying to put them together.” Jessie relaxes and waits for me. I groan and just lie back down on the stage, glasses hitting the floor with a clink. “Maybe it’s just déjà vu.” I sit up again and add, “But I don’t think it is, though.” He talked to me. I know he did. “It’s all…” I rub my eye. “…its just fuzzy.” And it fucking sucks not being able to remember.

It’s that moment when Theater 4 class begins filing in with bell. Jessie and I stand up and move into the hallway, because my free period corresponds with her lunch period really well.

Chris Lindholm joined us soon after. He’s this gangly sophomore who towers over everyone else by at least a couple inches. And he’s kinda scary from a distance. He’s actually really cool. I mean, we only really met when he and Jessie worked on Beauty and the Beast last year. I helped build the sets because they needed help. He’s a cool guy. 

He comes with some chicken nuggets and a cherry slushie from the Basement Lounge. “Louis, did you have Mrs. Sandovsky for English?”

“Yeah, why?”

He praises me. “We’re doing our essays on famous people, and this dipshit took the one I wanted.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Aaron fucking Madison-Samuels.”

“No, who’s the famous person?”

“I wanted to do Homer. The Greek guy.” His eyebrows wiggle. “‘cuz of all the sex.”

“Homer didn’t write stuff about that,” Jessie points out.

He pshaws. “Well, I’m not telling Aaron. He’s gonna be disappointed.”

Jessie looks at him. “Wasn’t there anyone more interesting?”

Chris makes this sound. I don’t know if it a neigh or a cough. But it’s a weird sound. And I don’t hear his response because my head goes back to believing I’m actually crazy.

‘I mean, he didn’t know you. Doesn’t that count for something?’ I ruffle my hair and lean back on the hallway floor. Chris and Jessie are probably still talking about Homer. I don’t think it really matters to me. Besides, I wrote about Alfred Hitchcock. So Chris is shit outta luck.

“Louis.”

I turn my head and look at him. “What?”

“Dude, I called your name, like, five times. What’s going on, space cadet?”

I look back to the ceiling. “I guess I…” I sit up. “Okay, I had this dream a while back.”

“The déjà vu one?” asks Jessie.

“Yeah that one.” I probably have this angry, like, thoughtful expression on my face. I spin my glasses between my fingers. “Like, have you ever had a dream that felt so real that you thought it was a memory?”

“Oh yeah,” is Chris’ immediate response. “One time I was convinced my cousin had a lizard when I was, like, six, but she didn’t.” He pauses. “Then she got me a fucking lizard for my birthday.”

“I know when I’m dreaming,” Jessie throws in.

“How?” I ask.

Jessie purses her lips. “Because the stuff that happens in it a lot of the time, isn’t real. Ya just kinda…know.”

I look back to the ceiling. ‘Maybe it is just déjà vu.’