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— …and so, we see that the angle of the trajectory depends not only on the initial velocity but also on air resistance, — the voice of the physics teacher, Miss O’Brien, sounded slightly monotonous, as if she herself was bored.
Mark sat at his desk, pretending to take notes, though his thoughts were far removed from the discussion of mechanics. He absentmindedly twirled his pen between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the board, but eventually, his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, soft snow was falling, swirling into spirals in the wind. Almost half a year had passed since he found himself in this body. Back in the fall, he could never have imagined that this life would feel even remotely normal. Back then, he had desperately tried to break free, to prove to everyone who he truly was. Now... now he just lived.
That didn’t mean he’d accepted it. Rather, he simply moved forward, remaining himself in every gesture, every word, despite how others saw him and despite the new sensations of this body—those moments when involuntary embarrassment overwhelmed him, like at the museum, or when emotions flared too intensely to control.
— Emma? — Miss O’Brien’s voice was soft but firm as she tilted her head slightly to catch his attention. — Perhaps you’d like to share your solution to the task, since the window seems more interesting to you than the board?
Mark froze at the sound of the name. He had gotten too lost in his thoughts and now acutely felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him. A soft ripple of laughter passed through the class. Swallowing hard, he forced away his thoughts of snow and of how long he had been in this body. He glanced at the equation on the board and quickly lifted his head.
— Of course, Miss O’Brien, — Mark responded briskly, straightening his posture. — Air resistance reduces the speed of an object, which makes the trajectory less steep.
The teacher nodded with satisfaction, clearly expecting no less from Emma, though she added:
— Your answer is correct, but you get distracted too often. Step up to the board and show us how this connects to the task we’re solving.
Mark took a deep breath, straightened his back, and walked to the board. The room fell silent, broken only by the scrape of a chair as someone shifted to sit more comfortably. "Great, now they’ll all be staring at me," he thought irritably, approaching the board.
He picked up the chalk and quickly sketched a diagram, explaining:
— Here, the launch angle is smaller, so the trajectory is flatter. And air resistance affects the maximum height…
His voice sounded confident, and Miss O’Brien nodded in approval, but Mark could feel the stares intensify. What annoyed him most was Ben’s expression—he sat with his cheek resting on his hand, watching so intently it was as if he were absorbing every word. Steve, sitting closer, tried not to look too directly, but his eyes betrayed him. And the other boys glanced at him in a way that made Mark feel like he wasn’t at the board discussing physics, but on stage performing something far more entertaining. The attention was grating on his nerves.
Someone snickered from the back row. Mark turned to see Lauren smirking. She whispered something to her desk mate, and the two stifled giggles. The girls in the class had started resenting him after the museum trip, especially because Emma was now receiving more attention from the boys. It was a different kind of hostility, one Mark wasn’t used to dealing with.
— Very good, Emma, — Miss O’Brien said coolly, folding her arms. — But you need to focus more during class and less on the view outside. Perhaps you’d like to share what was so important that it distracted you?
Mark felt the tension in the room rise. Everyone was watching him even more intently. For a moment, he debated whether to joke or remain silent, but he knew immediately: staying quiet would mean losing. He looked at the teacher and replied with a touch of audacity:
— I was thinking about the snowfall, Miss O’Brien, — he said with a faint smile, glancing briefly out the window. — About how it relates to air resistance. I was trying to tie it to the task.
He deliberately added a hint of cheekiness to his tone. The girls giggled, and a few of the boys, including Ben and Steve, stared at him with newfound admiration for his confidence.
Miss O’Brien squinted slightly, as if weighing whether to press further. In the end, she just waved her hand dismissively.
— Fine, Emma, take your seat. Let’s focus on the tasks instead of the scenery, all right?
— Of course, Miss O’Brien, — Mark replied, his tone carrying a faint trace of sarcasm.
As he walked back to his desk, he avoided making eye contact with anyone. His shoulders tensed slightly when he heard Lauren’s muffled laugh.
— Snowfall and air resistance, — she muttered to her friend in a nasal voice, mockingly imitating Emma, just loud enough for Mark to hear. — So smart.
— I can explain it again if you’d like, Lauren, — he said, raising an eyebrow.
Lauren’s face flushed red, but she chose to remain silent. Everyone knew better than to mess with Emma. Her sharp tongue and even sharper wit made her a formidable opponent. Mark sat down at his desk and let out an exaggerated sigh, making it clear to everyone that he couldn’t care less.
"From the moment I graduated high school, I never once dreamed of coming back. And here I am again, solving these problems. Physics, math... all this routine. I used to think they mattered, that they could lead to something important in life," ran through his mind as he glanced around the room.
Steve met his gaze and quickly smiled nervously, as if apologizing for staring. Ben, on the other hand, buried his face in his textbook, his ears turning red with embarrassment. In the back, Jack pretended to look out the window but occasionally sneaked glances, thinking he wouldn’t be noticed. The girls reacted differently: Lauren continued whispering to her friend, her expression tinged with irritation, while Sophie leaned back, hands behind her head, acting as though she didn’t care at all.
"Well, everything seems fine. Nothing unusual... Oh… Am I really getting used to this? Not long ago, all of this drove me crazy. Damn, it’s weird," he thought, letting out a deep sigh. Then, with an unexpected ease, he tilted his head and flicked his hair back in one smooth motion. The strands fell gracefully over his shoulders, accentuating every curve of his face.
The movement almost made Ben drop his pen, while Steve stared at him, seemingly spellbound, before quickly turning away, burying his face in his textbook. Mark couldn’t help but smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"Really? You think I don’t notice? Ridiculous… Was I like this too? Probably not. Although… maybe… Samantha. Everyone in our class was crazy about her. Funny. I was convinced Sam didn’t even know I existed, while I thought she was a goddess. I looked at her the same way Steve and Ben are looking at me now, and… Wait, what?!"
Mark blinked several times, trying to shake off the heat creeping up his cheeks.
"No, no, no, that’s ridiculous. It can’t be. This must be some kind of misunderstanding! Yeah, they’re just a little… uh… weird, that’s all. Me and Sam?! Pfft, ridiculous! She was perfect. And me… I’m just Emma. But…"
His eyes slowly rose, catching Ben stealing another glance at him, unable to resist. Steve kept his head down, his lips curling into a nervous, guilty smile. In the back, Jack quickly averted his gaze.
"Shit, is this really happening? Jessica wasn’t joking?! I can’t even wrap my head around the idea that I might actually be… No, I am that Samantha here. The one you can’t forget, even if you try."
The realization made his head spin. Mark took a deep breath, trying not to betray his shock. Just then, the bell rang, jolting him slightly. He flinched, almost like a blow had landed, and instinctively reached for his backpack as his thoughts continued to swirl.