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— What did you just say? — Emma turned around, her voice cold, but her eyes betrayed her tension.
— Mark, — Jessica repeated, mustering her courage. — You said it yourself... that he was you, and you were him. I know I always brushed it off as one of your weird jokes. But now... I don’t know. Sometimes I think, what if it wasn’t a joke? What if you really were him?
Emma felt something inside her snap. Her chest tightened, her breath caught, but she couldn’t let it show.
— What’s this about, Jess? — Emma forced a strained smile, her hands trembling slightly. She took a step back, her gaze warning that this topic was completely out of bounds.
— Because... — Jessica’s voice wavered, but she’d already decided to keep going. — Dan... I asked him about your jester that time, thinking I’d tease him, but… he answered so weirdly. Like he was nervous, like he was trying to avoid it. As if... the jester was real. But that’s not all. — She stepped closer, studying Emma’s face. — Then I saw you with Maddie. The way you two were laughing, like you were old friends, like... I don’t know how to explain it, but it made me think.
Emma remained silent, her gaze fixed on a patch of lawn where shards of a broken bottle sparkled. Jessica went on, her voice quieter but steadier.
— I’ve been remembering. Remembering everything. The way you used to be. Not now, not a couple of months ago, but... a year ago, two. And how you’ve changed this school year... Do you remember when we were at your house, and you said people don’t change, they just learn to hide who they are? I joked about you being a philosopher, and you... you laughed, but there was something else in your eyes. Or that time in history class when you argued with Mr. Grace? You said none of us could truly understand what it was like to live back then because we hadn’t lived through what those people had. Do you remember how he looked at you? Like you knew more than he did. And back then, I thought you were just smart, maybe a little too well-read. And so many other things. And now... — She swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. — Now I wonder: what if it’s true? What if you were someone else?
Emma clenched her hands into fists, her shoulders tense, but her gaze stayed off to the side. Jessica took another step closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.
— What if you really were Mark? The Mark you told me about? Not just a fantasy, but... real? Because sometimes, Em, you talk and act like none of us. Not like me. It’s like you know more. Like you’re... older than us. And not just in a bad way. In a good way too. You’re smart, you’re strong. But sometimes it feels like even you don’t know who you are anymore.
Emma finally turned to her, her face taut, lips pressed into a thin line, a deep flush coloring her cheeks. A storm raged in her eyes: anger, fear, confusion.
— Why now?! — the words burst from her lips before she could stop them. Her voice was louder than she intended, echoing down the empty street. Her eyes widened, and in a single second, so many emotions flickered across her face that Jessica froze, unsure of what to say.
Emma continued, her voice quieter now but trembling:
— Why are you bringing this up now, Jess? Why now, when I... when I’ve become...
She dropped her gaze to the ground. Inside, everything churned. Her eyes lingered on her own feet, clad in shiny patent leather platform loafers. She wore sheer nude tights that emphasized the slender lines of her legs. Her high-waisted skirt, fashionable and just above the knee, perfectly framed her silhouette, while her short blazer with gold buttons was impeccably pressed. Her hands, with their long nails painted in a pearly polish, clutched a cardboard cup. Her hair was styled in perfect waves she’d only ever seen in commercials before, and her lips shimmered faintly with gloss, subtle but accentuating their shape.
Emma smoothed her skirt with a habitual motion, even though it sat flawlessly. Everything about her appearance screamed that she was now the kind of girl Mark used to admire from afar with an unattainable sense of wonder. The kind who was always the center of attention, the epitome of teenage popularity.
It contradicted everything Mark had been. Rough movements, calloused hands, a messy style where jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt were the daily uniform. Mark would never have spent a second styling his hair. He would’ve just run a hand through his messy locks and called it good enough. But now, her fingers instinctively tucked a stray strand behind her ear.
— So... — Jessica smiled, watching Emma’s turmoil. At that moment, in her eyes, Emma became herself again. Not the cold, perfectly polished queen of the school, but the girl who wasn’t afraid to show her raw emotions, even if their intensity was overwhelming. — There you are. My real Emma.
Emma snapped her head up, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger, but deep down, in the farthest corner of her gaze, another spark flickered—of joy, of relief, or maybe of that feeling you get when someone truly sees you, even when you’ve almost forgotten who you really are.