Chapter 5

But I knew he was one of the few teachers here who actually cared about his students.

Back in my last life, after I dropped out, he came to my house three times, each time trying to talk me into going back to school. He even said he could help me cover my tuition.

But I turned him down every time. I thought Emily needed me, and I felt like there was no way out for me anymore.

The last time he came, he stood at the door for a long time before finally sighing and saying, "Jessica, you deserve better than this."

I still remember the look on his face back then, disappointed, but not in me. It was disappointment in the world itself.

"Jessica?" Christopher's voice snapped me back to reality. He looked at me, clearly surprised to see me in my seat. He pushed up his glasses. "You're back?"

"Mr. Johnson, I'm back in class," I said, standing up. My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.

Christopher opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded. "Good. It's good to have you back. Sit down."

He flipped open his notes and got the lesson underway.

I took out my notebook, flipped to a fresh page, and wrote the date at the top: [September 3, 2012.]

Then I paused for a moment and wrote something underneath the date.

[Jessica, this time around, you don't let anyone down, and least of all yourself.]

The pen scratched softly on the paper, while outside, the sycamore leaves rustled in the wind. Sunlight slanted through the window, spilling over my desk like a sheet of golden silk.

I took a deep breath, then lowered my head and focused on the lesson.

This time, I'd make sure to remember everything I learned.

For every exam, I'd give it everything I had.

And I wouldn't let a single opportunity slip by.

Because this time, I wasn't just working hard for myself.

I was doing it for the girl who was forced to drop out at sixteen, for the woman who passed away in that hospital room, and for all the lives that deserved better.

For the next month, I was like a dried-up sponge thrown into water, desperately soaking up every scrap of knowledge I could find.

Every morning, I woke up at five. I spent the first hour studying for the SAT before heading to school.

While everyone else was taking a break during lunch, I stayed in the library working through AP Calculus problems.

After school, I stayed for another hour to study, and I didn't leave until the security guard came by and told me the building was closing.

By the time I got back to that cramped little room in the slum, it was almost eleven.

Emily was usually already asleep. Honestly, leaving a little kid home alone made me a bit uneasy, but I knew she was way tougher than she acted.

In my last life, she always had me wrapped around her finger. Now, even without me hovering over her 24/7, she was thriving on her own.

I'd leave meals I'd made ahead of time in the fridge, and she'd pop them in the microwave herself.

She even managed to wash her own clothes, though they never came out spotless. And she could actually finish her homework on her own, which honestly surprised me.

One night, when I got home, I saw Emily hunched over her desk, scribbling away at her homework. The desk lamp stretched her shadow long across the floor.

She heard me come in, glanced up, her lips moved like she was about to say something, but she just dropped her gaze and went back to her homework.

I noticed her eyes looked a bit puffy, like she'd been crying.

I paused for a moment, but in the end, I just walked past her and went to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water.

It wasn't that my heart didn't ache for her.

It was that I couldn't let myself go soft again.

All that softness in my last life had ended with me dying in a hospital bed at twenty-eight.

This time, I had to make myself hard.

By mid-October, when the first monthly exam rolled around, I came in second overall.

When the results came out, the whole sophomore grade blew up.

"Jessica? Isn't she that girl whose parents are both gone?"

"Didn't she drop out before? How did she just come back and snag second place in the whole grade?"

"Maybe she cheated or something?"

"Come on, how do you even cheat your way to second place? Who would she copy from? The top student? He only beat her by a couple points."

I heard all the whispers, but I couldn't care less.

Christopher called me over in the office.

"Jessica," he said, handing me my report card, his voice a little hesitant. "You did really well. But I just wanted to ask, have you sorted things out at home?"

I knew exactly what he meant. With my parents gone and a thirteen-year-old sister to take care of, how was I supposed to keep going to school?

I smiled, "Mr. Johnson, I can handle it."