September 4, 2014 part 1 - June

I caught myself staring at the back of Jackie’s head again - guilty, like my eyes were actual lasers boring a hole straight through her skull. Her hair hung perfectly straight, a dark waterfall that looked soft enough to touch but dangerous enough to get you expelled for trying. Every time she moved, it rippled - smooth, alive, perfect.

Honestly, all I wanted was to reach out and tuck it behind her ear once. Just once. Then I could die right there, a satisfied man.

Cause of ****: fulfilled life's purpose.

The classroom hummed the way it always did before the first bell. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices rose and fell, the smell of chalk and cheap cologne mixed with the faint scent of someone’s banana bread from the canteen. Somebody’s off-brand Bluetooth speaker kept **** out distorted pop music like it was dying mid-song.

Chalk dust floated lazily through the air, catching the sunlight that sliced in through the window. For a second, it looked like snow in slow motion - a sad, tropical version of winter.

Meanwhile, I sat perfectly still - the creep statue glued to his seat, eyes stapled to the back of Jackie’s head, silently praying she never turned around and caught me in 4K.

“Hey! You listening?”

Kyle’s voice sliced through my trance like a chainsaw through Styrofoam.

I blinked and turned. He was sitting in Kevin’s chair, eyebrows up, wearing the exact face of someone who’d just realize he's been talking to a wall for five straight minutes.

“What?” I muttered, dragging my gaze away from Jackie like I’d just been caught stealing something sacred.

“We’ve got Dota practice later,” he said, squinting like he was checking if my brain was still installed.

“Yeah, I know, dumbass.” It came out sharper than I meant. Mostly because he’d just interrupted my very important Jackie-focused meditation - a sacred ritual.

“I’ve been yapping about the strat we'd be using for like five minutes, dum-dum.”

“Did you just say dum-dum?” I blinked. "Did you get that from the ten year olds you liked playing with?”

Kyle shrugged. “Minnie doesn’t like cursing.”

I stared at him for a long, silent second, trying to process that. Then I leaned in, speaking slowly and clearly, as if giving a TED Talk to a man who’d just confessed to losing his spine. “Fucking. Pussy. Mother-”

Kyle flicked my forehead. Hard.

“OW- dude!” I yelped, clutching my head. His fingers were like a concrete paddle.

I lunged to flick him back, but he was faster. And just like that, our daily idiocy began. Chairs screeched, pens clattered, a nearby classmate muttered, “Jesus Christ, again?”

It wasn’t a fight so much as two dumb dogs wrestling for dominance. Elbows flew, laughter followed, and one of my notebooks hit the floor with a thud.

We’d done this enough times that it was basically our love language. If teachers gave grades for pointless chaos, we’d both have honors.

Then Jackie’s pen froze mid-scribble.

She perked up like a cat hearing a can opener, eyes bright with curiosity. “You guys play Dota?”

Kyle and I froze mid-fight, hands still in the air.

Kyle recovered instantly, switching to salesman mode. “Yep,” he said, casual as ever, one arm still ready to block if I attacked again.

Me? I opened my mouth and made… a noise. Not a word. Just a weird, dying-frog throat sound. “Yguh.”

Perfect. Just what I needed. Allen: inventor of a new language.

Jackie tilted her head, smiling. “I play too. Can I join?”

When she smiled like that, it wasn’t polite - it was warm. Honest. Like she actually liked the idea. My stomach did a full backflip and crash-landed somewhere near my knees.

Kyle opened his mouth. “We don’t have a slot-” He paused, glanced at me, and grinned. “Actually, we do.”

Wingman of the year. Give that man a medal and a theme song.

Our team had five regulars - me, Kyle, Mike, and two randoms from the nearby Internet café. The café was holding a small tournament soon, and we figured we’d join just for fun. We had no illusions about winning - we just wanted the bragging rights.

We had no idea how good Jackie was, if she could even help us get better. Honestly, I didn’t care. Kyle and Mike knew exactly how pathetically I liked her, so this was basically Kyle tossing me a lifeline while pretending not to notice I was already drowning.

And Jackie… she just made it easy to drown.

She’d hand back a dropped pen before anyone even noticed it was gone. Compliment a stranger’s doodle. Smile at everyone like they deserved it. She had this quiet warmth that made people straighten up around her.

And now she was a gamer? In 2014? That was like spotting a unicorn at a 7-Eleven buying slushies with exact change.

Kyle stood up, scanning the room. “Hold that thought,” he said, walking off toward the back row.

He stopped at June’s desk - the scrawny drummer kid who always smelled faintly of sweat, ramen, and ambition.

“June! You wanna play Dota later?”

June’s head shot up like someone had just said “free pizza.” His eyes went wide. “With you guys? Hell yeah! Just message me anytime! Or like, if you wanna hang out too, I can-”

“Cool. You’ll need three more,” Kyle interrupted smoothly. “Jackie can be on your team.”

June blinked, stunned. “Jackie plays?” His grin grew until it looked painful. “That’s awesome!”

Kyle clapped him on the shoulder, said something I didn’t catch, and turned back toward us - smug, victorious, clearly proud of whatever he’d just set up.

But when his eyes landed on me, his grin twisted into disgust.

Yeah, I’d heard the whole thing. Not because I was eavesdropping - okay, fine, I was - but because right as Kyle walked away, Jackie had turned around with that same grin aimed directly at me.

“What hero do you play?” she asked.

My brain crashed. My mouth opened, words failed, life flashed before my eyes. “A lot,” I said.

A lot. That was it. Not even a which or a because. An amazingly vague response. Shakespeare himself could not have thought of a better conversation killer.

Jackie blinked, waiting for more. When I didn’t deliver, she smirked. “Wow. Mysterious.”

My brain short-circuited harder. I panicked, coughed, and pointed lamely toward Kyle and June. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” I said, like a man who’d just discovered small talk existed. “Probably… important.”

Jackie tilted her head slightly, probably wondering if I hated human interaction or just her. She didn’t say anything, just turned back to her sketchbook, pencil scratching against paper again - quick, clean, alive.

And that’s exactly when Kyle turned around.

From where he stood, he probably saw me staring blankly at him, Jackie turned halfway in her seat, and a thick, invisible cloud of awkward hovering over us.

When he came back, his grin was gone, replaced with pure disappointment.

He flicked the back of my head. “Hopeless,” he muttered.

I groaned. “I’m a dum-dum,” I said flatly. “The king of dum-dums. All hail.”