Walking into Hopptide High was like entering a nightmare where you relived high school. Except this time, it was real.

Logan stood outside the front entrance for awhile before he could go in. He hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of being back here and being in this younger body. It shouldn’t feel much different. He couldn’t have changed that much in ten years. 

But when he stepped through the front doors and stood in the commons where dozens of teenagers were passing through, he felt how different he was from them. Their lives had barely started. They were still hung up on this totem pole of who was better than the other. 

Only once he was out of here was he able to escape that sort of need to prove himself to be stronger than everyone else. Life forced him to move on, to stop thinking this way and just become another rat in the race. 

He took his time walking through the commons. He looked at the plaques on the walls, the yellow and black ribbons, and the display of trophies he had no attachment to. This whole building held no attachment for him. It could have burned down tomorrow and he wouldn’t have given a shit. 

The school’s mascot was shown off proudly on the center wall right when you walked in. Hopptide Hornets—and with a generate looking drawing to go along with it.

He snorted. “They really thought yellow looked good.”

It reminded him of puke. 

The first bell startled him. He looked around for the first time since he walked in to realize there was no one in sight. 

He went to the office and feigned a smile at the secretary. 

“Hi. I forgot my login info to GradeCheck. My name’s Dakota Locken.”

“—and remember essays are due tomorrow.”

Logan leaned against the door outside the English Lit classroom. In his hand he moved a quarter across the back of his knuckles. He did the motion without looking or thinking. His mind had slipped away as he waited for the class to get over. It hadn’t taken him long to get bored waiting in the bathrooms, but he had no intention of actually attending class.

Students started filing out, some giving Logan weird looks, but he didn’t care. He looked past them all, searching for someone in particular.

Dakota’s dark hair was hard to miss amongst the common brown and dirty blond. He stood out even more because of his height. It wasn’t just that either. Like he wanted a target on his back, he wore black acid washed jeans, and black t-shirts with psychedelic prints on them. Silver chains hung from his backpack, clinking against buttons with band logos on them. 

His head was lowered, his bangs covering his eyes. Tucked under his arm was his sketchbook—a new one because the last one Logan threw into a puddle. 

Logan waited until Dakota was walking away. He hadn’t noticed Logan watching him or standing outside the classroom door. Purely oblivious, he carried on to his next class.

It wasn’t entirely Logan’s intention of becoming a stalker. He hadn’t even thought he would be able to pull this off. High school security was not the best he found out.

The quarter had warmed from his body heat. He closed his fist tightly over it, imagining the eagles form imprinting into his palm. He pushed away from the wall and started walking in the same direction as Dakota.

Throughout the day, he followed Dakota at a safe distance. As much as he wanted to be conspicuous to everyone else, he found it too difficult to not watch Dakota. Even when he forced his eyes to wander the halls, thinking random thoughts—like how locker locks worked or if anyone had ever pissed themselves in class—his eyes would always make their way back to Dakota.

And the more he watched the other boy, the more curious he became of him. In their years of knowing each other, Logan didn’t know anything about him except that he liked to paint. Though, did he actually like doing that? 

He wanted to know the answer. It would have been so simple if he could just ask Dakota and know that he would get an answer. Instead, he imagined how a conversation like that might go during the times he had to wait for Dakota to get out of his class.

What fruit did he like? Kiwi because he had green eyes.

Did he like country music? Probably not. He probably liked death metal.

Why did he paint angels? 

Logan was hung up on that question. He was in the boys’ bathroom again. He braced his arms over the sink and looked at his reflection.

It was hard to look at himself. Partly due to the stupid mullet he’d thought was cool. But mostly because he didn’t recognize himself. This wasn’t the person he woke up as anymore—though he didn’t look in the mirror often. He didn’t seem the need for it. 

He leaned over and pressed his thumb into the glass, right where his cheek was. This was who Dakota saw. This was who he remembered.

“Did you think of me?” He wondered aloud. 

He laughed. How egotistical of himself. 

The question of whether Dakota really liked angels was still on his mind as he exited the bathroom and headed back to Dakota’s current class. He rounded the corner and walked right into someone.

“Sorr—”

A hand covered his mouth and another grabbed him by the arm. He was dragged back into the bathroom and shoved toward one of the stalls. 

Before he could even react, Dakota closed the bathroom door and blocked it with his body.

“Why are you following me?”

Logan sputtered. “I’m not following you. Why would you think that?”

He nervously ran his hand through his hair. 

Dakota’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe the bullshit excuse for a second. “Everyone’s noticed.”

“Fuck,” Logan groaned. He turned away, grumbling to himself. “How did anyone notice? I made sure to stay in the back.”

He noticed Dakota moving in the mirrors. He turned back around. “What are you doing?”

Something shifted in Dakota’s gaze that made Logan apprehensive. He took a step back, almost stumbling over his feet. Dakota filled that space, moving onto Logan without hesitance. It was this clear decision of movement that set Logan on edge. He brushed it off though. Dakota had never done anything to him. Well, except for hitting him yesterday, but that was well-deserved. 

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but leave me alone.” Dakota spoke firmly. Even so, he waited as if he expected Logan to start denying it or start revealing his true evil plan. 

Logan had no such thing in mind. 

“I can’t do that,” he said before he thought better of it. He cringed on the inside at the bad wording. 

Dakota’s brows pinched. “Why are you doing this? You save my painting and then you’re following me around.”

Logan gave a breathy laugh. “Believe me, I wish I knew too.”

The words were slipping right out of him. He found it easy to speak to Dakota. As if he didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing.

Dakota leaned down. Logan, once again, startled as the boy’s face was right in front of his. “Stop following me.”

A shiver went down his spine. He knew he was trying to see Dakota in a different light, but the way he said it so firmly made Logan think Dakota was a step away from becoming a school shooter.

He shook off the thought, chastising himself. Why would I think that? He’s only standing up for himself. 

That kind of shit was exactly what he would have said directly to Dakota’s face. Or even ask if he was going to kill himself. He hated himself even more for that.

Dakota turned away, about to leave. But Logan couldn’t let him. He couldn’t help Dakota if he wasn’t near him.

He grabbed the back of Dakota’s shirt, not enough to yank him back or anything but enough to get his attention. Logan’s heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought it would burst. His ears rang and his lips went dry. He licked them, pushing out words—anything that would make Dakota stay a little longer. 

“I want to learn how to paint.”

Both looked at each other at the same time, mirrored expressions of surprise. 

Logan sputtered. “I mean—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Huh?” Logan gaped up at Dakota. His hand was still holding the bottom of Dakota’s shirt. He had to force himself to let go. 

Dakota’s face didn’t so much as twitch. “I’ll teach you how to paint.”

Elation spread through Logan, making him almost jump at Dakota to hug him. But he didn’t. He settled for an ear-splitting smile that Dakota stared too intensely at.