MARCUS
"I still don't get how that's possible," Lily said, shaking her head as we stood in the lunch line. "None of us take Italian. None of your parents or grandparents are Italian either."
She wasn't wrong.
I had no Italian relatives. No reason to know the language at all.
The only reason any of us even recognized it was because of Noah.
Noah Reyes.
Tall, confident, annoying when he wanted to be. Black hair, green eyes, and the kind of calm attitude that made everything feel less serious than it probably should be. He had Italian relatives, which meant he sometimes threw random phrases into conversations just to be irritating.
"I'm telling you," I said, "maybe I just heard it from Noah or something. You're overthinking it."
Lily narrowed her eyes at me. "You're the one writing secret languages in notebooks."
"That was once."
"It was weird once."
I sighed as I picked up my food—burrito for me, fries and burger for her.
We walked toward the usual table where the soccer team had already taken over like they owned the school. Noah was there too, talking loudly like always.
I slid into my seat beside him. Lily sat across from me.
Noah didn't even pause his story.
"…and I'm telling you, the match would've been better if—"
I stopped listening.
The noise of the cafeteria faded into background static as I started eating.
Normal. Simple. Safe.
Then—
A whisper slid into my mind.
"il tempo è vicino, Rocco…"
I froze.
My fingers tightened slightly around my fork.
No one else reacted.
I kept eating.
Another whisper followed, sharper this time.
"Lasciami in pace."
I didn't think. I just said it under my breath.
"Lasciami in pace."
The table went silent.
The shift was instant.
Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Someone dropped a fry. Even Noah paused.
I looked up slowly.
"…What?" I asked. "Is there something on my face?"
Lily blinked. "Did you just speak Italian?"
Noah was the first to recover, leaning back with a grin. "Dude. Since when did Marcus start flirting with spaghetti language?"
A few laughs followed.
Just like that, the moment dissolved.
But my chest didn't relax.
Something still felt… off.
After lunch, I headed to my locker alone.
The hallway was quieter here. Less noise. More space to think.
That's when I saw her again.
Callista.
Golden-brown hair tied into a ponytail. Calm posture. Like she didn't belong to the chaos of the school around her.
And again—that feeling hit me.
Familiar.
Not memory. Not recognition.
Something deeper.
Like my body remembered before my mind did.
She turned.
Our eyes met.
She didn't look away.
Neither did I.
For a second, everything else blurred.
Then she smiled.
A small wave.
And walked off like nothing happened.
I stood there longer than I should have.
Math class.
I chose my usual seat out of habit.
But when I walked in—
She was already there.
Sitting in my seat.
Like she'd always been there.
I don't know what made me move.
I just did.
I sat down beside her.
She glanced at me immediately.
"Why does it feel like you're following me?" she asked.
I chuckled lightly, leaning back. "Maybe you're following me."
That earned a quiet laugh from her.
Not loud.
Not exaggerated.
Just… real.
And for a moment—
I felt something shift inside my head.
A flicker.
A break in something I couldn't see.
A memory tried to surface.
A child's laughter.
Blurred surroundings.
A name I couldn't catch—
Then it was gone.
I blinked hard.
She was still beside me, watching me slightly differently now.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"…Yeah," I said too quickly.
Silence stretched between us.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
"You're Marcus," she said.
Not a question.
A test.
"Yeah," I replied. "Marcus Cole."
She repeated my name softly.
"Marcus…"
Like she was trying to see how it felt in her mouth.
Then she smiled again.
"I'm Callista," she said. "But you can call me Callie."
Something in my chest tightened.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Recognition.
And I didn't know why.