Perturbed

Jeremy slouched in his seat near the back of the classroom, arms crossed and gaze locked on the board, though he wasn't actually reading the words. Mr. Jack was in full chaos-mode up front, rambling about turtles and life philosophies like he was hosting a TED Talk nobody asked for. The class was eating it up. Typical.

But Jeremy's mind was somewhere else.

He could feel her. Not in a creepy way—just... he knew Jenny was in the room. He'd caught the top of her head when he walked in, that messy bun, the familiar blue hoodie she always wore when she didn't want to be noticed.

Too bad he noticed her anyway.

He dragged a hand through his hair and leaned back, pretending to stretch, just so he could angle his body slightly, casually, enough to get a glimpse in her direction.

She didn't look back.

Good.

No—bad.

He wasn't sure.

Jenny was scribbling something in her notebook, probably taking actual notes. Or maybe just doodling stick figures stabbing hearts, who knew. He wouldn't blame her.

He'd been a jerk.

The memory of her face in the hallway flashed in his head again—uncertain, a little hopeful. And then the moment he ruined it by treating her like nothing. Less than nothing.

He'd replayed it too many times already. The stupid candy toss. The stupid walk-off. He wasn't even mad at her. He was mad at himself—for hoping, for wondering, for being disappointed when the letter turned out to be exactly what it was supposed to be: Ashley's.

But it didn't matter how many times he read that thing. All it did was make him think of Jenny.

He shifted in his seat and tapped his pen against his desk. Mr. Jack was now dramatically reenacting what he claimed was "a turtle's journey across a sidewalk of doubt." Jeremy didn't laugh. He barely heard it.

All he could think about was the way Jenny wouldn't meet his eyes.

He wanted to say something. Or maybe just… not feel like such a di*k. But it wasn't like he could get up in the middle of class and announce, Hey, sorry I acted like a toolbox. Also, you've been in my head all day and it's driving me insane.

Yeah. That would go over real smooth.

Instead, he just sat there, chewing on the end of his pen, trying not to look back at her. Failing.

She didn't even glance his way once.

And somehow, that felt worse than her being mad.

It felt like being forgotten.

Jenny kept her eyes on her notebook, even though the page was already full and her pen had long since stopped moving.

She could feel it—him. That familiar prickle at the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. Jeremy was behind her. A few seats over, but still close enough to make her stomach twist.

She refused to turn around.

Not after what happened earlier. Not after the way he looked right through her like she was just another face in the crowd. It shouldn't have hurt—he wasn't hers to expect anything from—but it did. It really, really did.

Mr. Jack was doing his usual thing up front, turning the class into a one-man improv show. Normally, Jenny would've loved it. His energy was infectious, his stories ridiculous. But today, even the turtle metaphor couldn't shake her out of the pit in her chest.

She added a small drawing in the margin of her notes—just a tiny turtle, flailing dramatically on its back.

Maya leaned in slightly and whispered, "You okay?"

Jenny nodded without looking up. "Fine."

Maya didn't believe her. Of course she didn't. Jenny wasn't even trying to sound convincing anymore.

From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Jeremy shift—maybe turning toward her. Maybe not. But she kept her focus forward, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing she noticed.

Let him look.

Let him wonder.

Because today? Jenny wasn't going to be the awkward girl who waited around for someone else's attention. Not again.

She straightened up in her seat, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and forced herself to actually listen to Mr. Jack, who was now dramatically declaring war against "the tyranny of standardized testing."

The classroom filled with laughter, and this time, Jenny joined in. Just a little.

She didn't notice Jeremy watching her again.

But Maya did.

Jeremy slouched deeper into his seat as the final bell rang, the hum of voices and shuffling footsteps swelling around him. Mr. Jack's voice trailed off into the noise, tossing out one last turtle-themed quip that made the class laugh.

Jeremy didn't laugh.

That uncomfortable feeling hadn't left his gut since lunch. It sat there like a rock—tight, cold, twisting.

He didn't even know why. Or maybe he did, but couldn't bring himself to name it.

What is wrong with me? he kept asking himself.

The candy wrapper flick. The way he looked right past her. The silence that followed. All of it looped in his mind like a scene he hated watching but couldn't turn off.

And the worst part?

The second Mr. Jack said "dismissed," Jeremy had stood up too fast, like maybe—just maybe—he could catch her before she slipped away again. He had even rehearsed it in his head during class, between pretending to take notes and actually trying to listen.

Something like: "Hey. I was a jerk. I didn't mean to... I don't know. Are you okay?"

But the hallway was already thinning out when he stepped outside the classroom. Jenny was nowhere.

He checked near the lockers. Outside the bathrooms. Even scanned the front lawn through the windows.

Nothing.

She was gone. She'd left the moment the bell rang, and somehow that stung more than he expected.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and leaned against the wall, jaw tight, eyes unfocused.

He didn't care, right? He wasn't the type to overthink or overfeel. He had a vibe. He had a reputation.

And yet…

That pit in his stomach twisted again.

You're not supposed to miss someone you barely talk to, he thought bitterly.

But he did.

And maybe that was the problem.

Jeremy walked home with his hands buried in his pockets, every step feeling heavier than it should. The usual noise from his group of friends had faded behind him, replaced by a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"What is wrong with me…?" he muttered under his breath. He couldn't stop replaying the image of Jenny's face from earlier—how she avoided his eyes, the way her expression was a mix of hurt and disappointment.

After the stupid candy stunt, he thought he'd feel triumphant. Instead, guilt clung to him like smoke.

He spent the entire afternoon running over a dozen ways to apologize. Each scenario ended in disaster—Jenny yelling, Jenny walking away, or worse, Jenny crying.

But when he finally decided to just talk to her after Mr. Jack's class… she was gone.

Just vanished.

His steps slowed as he reached his house. He barely made it through the front door before his mom's voice called out from the kitchen, "Jeremy, wash up! Dinner's almost ready!"

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly.

Then he froze.

Leaning casually against the living room wall, arms crossed and a lazy grin plastered on his face, was none other than Maximus.

"Yo, cousin," Max said, pushing off the wall. "Long time, huh?"

Maximus was back.

Jeremy blinked. "Max? What the hell—you didn't tell anyone you were coming back."

"Surprise," Maximus smirked, dropping his duffel bag on the floor.

He was as hard to miss as ever. Towering at 6'2", Max had jet-black hair that curled just slightly at the edges, emerald green eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief, and a jawline sharp enough to model for cologne ads. Jeremy, standing at an even 6 feet, was no slouch himself, but next to Max… he always felt like background noise.

Max had the whole effortless bad-boy charm thing down to a science. Girls used to follow him around like moths to a flame before he moved to California.

And now, he was back.

Living with them.

Great.

Jenny's POV

The front door creaked open and Jenny stepped inside, dropping her bag by the shoe rack like it weighed a thousand pounds. The comforting smell of garlic and tomato sauce drifted from the kitchen, and her mom's voice floated in from the living room, humming along to a playlist of 80s ballads.

"Jenny, that you?" her mom called.

"Yeah," Jenny replied, her voice flat as she kicked off her shoes.

She made it halfway down the hall before—

"Jen-nay!" came a voice from upstairs, stretched out in the most annoying singsong.

Her brother, Caleb.

Before she could even roll her eyes, he was thundering down the stairs two at a time, wearing mismatched socks and a headset around his neck.

"You looked like a raccoon on the school bus," he said, grinning like he'd just delivered a punchline worthy of a late-night show. "You okay? Or did your anime boyfriend dump you?"

Jenny gave him a glare. "You're the reason I believe in karma."

"Aw, come on," Caleb said, draping an arm over her shoulder like a cheesy sitcom brother. "Don't be mad. Want me to beat someone up for you? I've been working on my dramatic slap technique."

"Go away," she muttered, shrugging him off.

"I live here too, drama queen," he called as he headed into the kitchen, probably to steal food before dinner. "Besides, you love me. Deep, deep down."

Jenny groaned and made her way to her room, ignoring her sister's door slightly ajar across the hall. Her older sister, Rachel, was probably already curled up with a book or responding to work messages. Rachel worked at one of the biggest media companies in the city, a rising journalist known for her sharp headlines and fearless attitude.

Rachel was the golden child—quiet, driven, effortlessly graceful. Jenny admired her, even if she sometimes felt like she lived in her shadow.

She shut the door to her room and flopped onto her bed, face-first into the pillow. Her backpack lay forgotten on the floor, textbooks poking out like they were judging her for slacking off. But for once, homework wasn't the biggest weight on her mind.

The house buzzed with warmth—pots clanging, the distant murmur of her dad's voice as he got home from work—but Jenny just felt… off. Dull. Like the day had drained every bit of color from her.

And worst of all, she couldn't stop seeing Jeremy's face. Not the smirk he always wore. The way he looked when she handed over the letter—confused, distant, unreadable.

She sighed, pulling a blanket over her head. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Or at least less humiliating.

A knock came a few minutes later. "Dinner's ready, sweetheart."

"Okay," she mumbled.

Downstairs, Caleb shouted, "I call dibs on the biggest slice of lasagna!"

---

At Dinner

The dining table was already set when Jenny dragged herself downstairs. The smell of garlic bread and cheesy lasagna filled the room, but even that wasn't enough to lift her mood. She slid into her seat, across from Caleb, who was already halfway through his first slice and chewing like it was a sport.

"So," her dad began cheerfully, pouring himself a glass of water, "how was school today?"

Jenny stabbed her lasagna. "Fine."

Caleb snorted. "More like tragic. She was moping on the bus like her favorite anime character died."

Jenny shot him a look. "Can you shut up for once in your life?"

"Technically, I can, but will I?" Caleb grinned. "Nope."

Rachel, sitting beside Jenny with a salad she'd half-picked at, looked up from her phone. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, and she wore the kind of blouse that screamed "young professional." Her tone was calm, thoughtful—classic Rachel.

"Don't let him get to you," she said, nudging Jenny's elbow lightly. "He's fourteen. His brain's still under construction."

"Hey!" Caleb protested, mouth still full.

Rachel ignored him and turned back to Jenny. "Rough day?"

Jenny shrugged, pushing food around her plate. "Something like that."

Rachel gave her a knowing look. "You don't have to talk about it, but if you ever want to, I'm around. And whatever it is—it won't matter as much a week from now. Trust me."

Jenny gave a weak smile. It was nice, having someone like Rachel around. She made everything seem like it would be okay, even when it wasn't.

Caleb dramatically gagged. "Can we not have a Hallmark moment while I'm eating?"

"You're the emotional equivalent of a brick," Rachel said dryly. "No one's asking for your commentary."

"Still here though," Caleb said, stuffing another bite into his mouth. "Still thriving."

Their mom chuckled. "Can we all just eat without turning this into a sitcom?"

Jenny managed a small laugh, even if her insides still felt like a tangled mess. But at least here, around this table, things didn't feel quite as heavy.

For now.