This was just the beginning. The sooner he completed tasks, the faster he could climb out of this hole. Build something real. Mark didn't hesitate.
Accept.
"Bro, you good?" Henry adjusted his glasses, studying Mark's face with concern. "You've been spacing out a lot today."
"Yeah, I'm good." Mark blinked back to reality, forcing his attention away from the floating notification.
"Let's go before we miss the bus."
"Yesterday was the last time I'm ever sitting on that bus."
Henry froze mid-step. He looked at his friend like he was seeing a stranger. When had Mark ever cared about social hierarchy? The old Mark preferred being invisible, accepted his place at the bottom without complaint.
And when did he stop wearing glasses? When did he get the confidence to approach Becky Moonwell, or any girl for that matter? This wasn't the same person.
"I mean, we're seniors now," Mark added quickly, catching Henry's confusion and trying to smooth it over. "Right? We should have some dignity. Today's the last time. The very last time."
They headed toward the bus stop where the yellow vehicle sat waiting like a patient punishment. Alex was still there too, sitting in his Honda Accord with the engine running, scrolling through his phone.
This is my chance, Mark thought. Time to meet Alexa. Time to start working toward that five hundred thousand.
"Let me talk to the new kid real quick." Mark walked over to Alex's window.
Alex rolled it down immediately, that genuine smile spreading across his face. "Didn't think you'd make me wait this long."
"Didn't think you'd actually wait."
"I gave you my word." Alex's voice carried that earnest quality that had always set him apart from the rest of his family.
Those were Hugo's words, literally. This kid had learned integrity by watching him all those years.
"We still have people who keep their word," Mark said, pulling out his phone. "I'll come by your place this evening. Put your number in here."
"That'd be great, man." Alex took the phone, typed quickly with the ease of someone who'd grown up with technology as a third hand, handed it back. "My sister's really excited to meet my new friend. She doesn't get out much."
And I need to meet her, Mark thought, but for very different reasons.
"Don't answer, I'm calling. Now you have mine." Mark dialed, heard Alex's phone buzz with the incoming call.
"Got it." Alex chuckled, saving the contact. "You sure you don't want a ride?"
"Thanks, but not today."
The school bus sat there like a monument to failure. A bus that had to wait for seniors. Freshmen and sophomores already filled most of the seats. Mark's jaw clenched as he and Henry climbed aboard.
"Thanks, Mr. Smith," Henry said to the driver, who gave them that proud-dad face like waiting for them was some kind of achievement worth celebrating.
As Mark passed down the aisle, his eyes found the blonde girl again, May. She was reading a paperback, the cover showing an African village rendered in stark colors. Things Fall Apart by Chenua Achebe. Their eyes met and something passed between them.
Not now, Mark told his hormones. I've got enough complications. But this new body made demands, and he was starting to feel every single one of them.
"You nerds getting off or what?" The voice came from the back, dripping with teenage cruelty.
The freshmen erupted in laughter like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. This was their entertainment, apparently. Worth waiting an extra fifteen minutes just to mock the seniors who were forced to ride the bus.
Mark couldn't take it anymore. The laughter, the disrespect, the daily humiliation. On impulse, he stopped next to May's seat.
"Hey," The word came out calmer than he felt, steadier than it had any right to be.
She looked up from her book, those intelligent eyes studying him with unexpected depth. Not judging, just observing.
"Hey?" she said, a little surprised someone had actually come up to her.
"What are you reading?"
She glanced down at the page, then back at him. "An old novel. African."
Before he could respond—
"You nerd getting off or what?" The voice came again, followed by more laughter.
"I'm Mark. Mark Lidorf."
"May Slevann." Her voice was soft but clear, cutting through the noise like a blade through silk.
Mark opened his mouth to say more, but the bus lurched forward and he had to grab a seat to keep from falling. By the time he steadied himself, the moment was gone. May had already returned to her book.
Damn it. Should've said nice meeting you. Should've asked why she's reading. Should've said something better, something memorable. His teenage body was betraying him, making him awkward in ways seventy years of experience couldn't overcome.
"Thanks, Mr. Smith," Henry called as they got off at their stop, stepping onto the cracked sidewalk.
Before they could take three steps toward home, a black Lexus LS pulled up smoothly, blocking their path with professional precision. Expensive car, tinted windows, the kind of vehicle that screamed money, power and consequences. The driver's window rolled down to reveal a man in his forties, built like he'd spent time in the military and never quite left it behind.
"Mr. Lidorf." The man's voice was calm, neutral, the kind that gave orders for a living. "Get in."
It wasn't a request. It wasn't even really a suggestion. It was a statement of what was about to happen.
Henry's face went pale. He knew what cars like this meant, knew what people like this did, even if he'd never experienced it directly.
"Bro, I'll see you tomorrow," he said quickly, backing away like distance would keep him safe from whatever was about to happen.
Mark didn't flinch. It was definitely about Becky Moonwell.
He opened the rear door and slid into leather seats. The door closed with that expensive thunk that only German engineering could produce, sealing him in.
The man in the driver's seat didn't turn around. Professional. Controlled. "My name is Zack. I work for Richard Moonwell."
Called it.