Chapter Ten: Two Years Earlier—Interference Patterns

Lunch hour erupted into a frenzy.

A surge of hunger and excitement engulfed the space, the scent of freshly baked pizza mingling with the chatter of eager voices.

The hallway transformed into a whirlwind of motion as students jostled for position, their backpacks swinging like pendulums and their voices echoing off the lockers.

Liam squinted, disoriented, as the corridor around him dissolved into a blur of movement.

Being squished in this sea of people felt like being crammed into a mosh pit. Laughter teetered on hysteria, feet shuffled with vibrations you could feel. Conversations drilled into his skull.

Why did everything seem different today? Was it just first-day jitters or something else?

The familiar contours of his life seemed to have shifted overnight, leaving him feeling like a stranger in his own skin.

The clock struck—1:05 PM.

A girl tripped, books spilling across the tiled floor. Liam swiftly gathered them, his fingers deftly sorting the scattered papers.

He handed the books back to the relieved student, who rewarded him with a warm smile—a fleeting moment of connection. The space tightened, murmurs drifting through the noise like background music in a dream.

Breathe, Liam. Just breathe.

His gaze darted around, bewildered. Everyone else seemed unruffled, their laughter and words flowing effortlessly. He felt like a small boat floating aimlessly in a stormy sea, tugging at his left earlobe, a nervous habit.

His mind meandered as he fidgeted with his backpack straps, darting around the cafeteria as if searching for an escape route. What-ifs swirled in his head—getting lost in maze-like hallways, sitting alone at lunch, stumbling over words in front of strangers.

The menu board flaunted its daily specials in bold letters, a tempting array designed to entice students. Who thought mac and cheese was a Tuesday staple? His mind wandered to the quirks of the school's culinary schedule. As he weighed his options, wisps of steam rose from the serving stations, twisting in the air like question marks. Each choice felt weighty, as if these small decisions would define his freshman year. The line inched forward, slower than a snail on a lazy Sunday, giving him ample time to deliberate.

A tap on his shoulder made him turn around. Standing there was a girl with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, her frizzy hair barely contained by a worn-out ponytail. Her fingers were twisting the hem of her shirt. "Hey... um... can you pass me a tray?" she asked. He handed it over, their fingers grazing momentarily.

He noticed a purple ink smudge on her thumb and a small scar above her knuckle, and wondered about their stories.

"Thanks," she said softly, her cheeks flushing pink as she broke their gaze. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, looking away. "No problem," he mumbled, feeling a little clumsy and suddenly aware of his own heartbeat. He wondered what made her blush.

He shuffled forward with the line, his feet moving with deliberate slowness as he approached the pizza section. At the counter, he caught the lunch lady's stare, her gaze warm and inviting.

"What'll it be, sweetie?" she asked warmly with maternal affection. His brain stalled—the simple question, now a culinary conundrum. Cheese or pepperoni? Neither option seemed quite right, leaving him uncertain.

"Um," he managed, the syllable buying him precious seconds as an impatient cough sounded from behind. "Actually…" His words tumbled out like a confession, a secret he'd been holding close to his heart. "Do you have a vegan option?" The lady's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and a hint of amusement danced in her voice. "Well, aren't you full of surprises, honey?" She smiled warmly. "As a matter of fact, we do."

As she handed him the vegan slice, his thoughts began to wander.

High school was already proving to be a maze of unexpected twists and turns.

It felt like navigating into uncharted territory, unsure of what lay around the next corner.

He grabbed a fruit cup and salad with vegan dressing—his hand moving with keen attention that belied his inner turmoil. He felt increasingly disconnected as he made each selection, as though watching himself from outside his body. The awareness was almost overwhelming, like a constant hum in the background. He wondered if it was normal to be this aware of everything. The question resonated, fueling his unease.

A cluster of kids gathered around the vending machines, their faces aglow as coins clinked, buttons beeped, and items thudded into place slowly.

Students devoured their meals with relished abandon. The rich aroma of fresh-cooked food wafted through the space, tempting even the most discerning palates. Some adventurous souls delighted in unconventional flavor fusions—dipping fries into chocolate pudding—while others sampled the new quinoa salad with hesitant curiosity.

As he surveyed the plates, he realized that food choices mirrored personalities—bold experimenters, cautious nibblers, and those who stuck to favorites like familiar havens. It was in this simple observation that he felt the essence of the school's delightfully quirky community, each student expressing a piece of themselves through their lunch selections.

His gaze dropped to his watch—1:21 PM stared back.

He noticed a sudden commotion erupting near the entrance, as he neared his preferred seat. Trays clattered to the ground, their contents spilling across the floor in a chaotic mess. The harsh noise sliced through the air, creating a moment of stunned silence.

Then, a flurry of movement and chatter unleashed. Muscles tensed, and fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, as Liam gripped his tray tighter. He watched, fascinated yet dreading the chaos, unsure of his role.

People swirled past him, intent on helping. Fragments of conversations mingled with worry and reassurance, while aromas of strawberry shortcake and coffee permeated the air.

Liam spotted a discreet 'Study Nook' sign on a narrow doorway at the quiet end of the cafeteria, a tranquil oasis amidst the chaos. He felt an overwhelming urge to escape the mayhem and made his way towards it, eager to find solace in the peaceful refuge.

This secret haven, accessible only with a student ID card, seemed to hide in plain sight. As he stood by the door, his vision splintered, the soft glow of the entrance inviting him in—a threshold to infinite possibilities. Each path before him branched into more, creating an ever-expanding web of potential futures.

His intuition tugged, feeling the reverberations deep inside. The unseen dimensions of reality slowly unfolded, as if silence itself was awakening. Push or pull? Enter or walk away? Questions multiplied in his mind, spawning new uncertainties. Taking a calming breath, he pushed the door open and stepped into the unknown.

The interior space revealed itself, showcasing artfully arranged surroundings. Every angle and curve had been carefully considered, from the hardwood floors to the hazy light spilling through the high window. The precise mathematical structure of the space enhanced its aesthetic, and the warm glow loosened his stiff limbs, allowing tension to seep away.

His breathing calmed as he absorbed the scent of varnished wood and crisp paper tinged with settled dust. The sacred silence pushed back shadows, flooding the place with gentle light.

In this quiet world, the lingering presence of past students created a profound sense of belonging. The four students sharing neatly arranged tables seemed like an integral part of the space, each one nestled in their own pocket of calm.

He stood still, his tray clutched in his hand, as he checked the time on his watch—1:34 PM.

His gaze drifted towards the girl who sat alone at a large table—notes, books, and markers—scattered across its surface. Her golden-brown hair fell around her face like a curtain as she focused on a seemingly vintage-looking book.

He slid into the chair opposite her, leaving space, and started on his lunch. The table lamp cast a soft glow on her face. He couldn't help but notice, though he didn't stare.

The quiet rustle of her book's pages and the distant hum of other students wrapped them in a hushed bubble. He found an unexpected comfort in this little world.

His thoughts were a never-ending match. Fear and doubt teamed up, plotting his retreat, urging him to stick to what he knew. Memories of his soccer team tryout still lingered, the sting of his classmates' laughter. Yet a spark of courage remained, small but stubborn, like the determination that drove him to learn guitar despite his fumbling fingers.

There he was, caught in a deadlock, frozen by indecision. He could almost see the paths branching out before him—one leading to her, the other to the familiar comfort of his solitude. In an alternate reality, he watched her disappear, a lingering memory that shadowed his every waking moment.

In the space between heartbeats, time hung suspended, a droplet poised on the edge of eternity. The possibilities collapsed, a fragile mosaic of what-ifs and maybes. Each path, a fleeting chance—each unmade choice, a future of regret. The clock ticked steadily towards zero hour, each beat a persistent nudge.

He cleared his throat, his voice low and casual. “Hey, hope I'm not interrupting. Just thought I'd say hi.”

A soft, warm smile appeared on her face as she looked up from her well-loved book, its pages worn from countless readings. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice reassuring. "I was lost in another world anyway." Her fingers traced the spine lightly, like it was something precious, the worn pages holding secrets only she could hear.

He tilted his head, gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the text. "What language is that?" he asked, curiosity kindled. "It's not English, right? It looks... different. Like some kind of old-fashioned writing." His tone laid-back but tinged with genuine interest.

"It's French poetry," she shared, a soft nostalgia in her voice. "Poésies by Stéphane Mallarmé." She paused, her fingers tracing the lines gently. "My grandpa used to read it to me. His voice was warm, soothing. The words... they always take me somewhere else.”

His curiosity stirred, a cautious spark. "What's the poem about?" he asked, tentative.

She tilted her head, thinking. A lock of golden-brown hair slipped across her face. He glimpsed another reality, then blinked it away.

"It's... hard to explain," she began, pausing. "It touches that hidden part of us, you know? The one that's tough to express." Her gaze sharpened, captivating in its intensity. "Ever feel like you don't have all the answers?”

His eyes drifted, drawn by an unseen force. "Yeah, I guess so. Whenever I look at the stars, I feel so... insignificant. Like there must be something out there, in space, bigger than us." He looked up, reflecting the vastness of his thoughts.

"That's cool," her face brightening with genuine interest. "You're into astronomy?”

"Yeah, I'm really into science, especially physics," he admitted, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Astronomy fascinates me too—the world and the universe are so vast and complicated." He paused, a flicker of vulnerability showing. "Sometimes I think it must have been created by something bigger, you know? By a Higher Power... by God Himself," his voice softened. "The more I learn about the universe, the more I realize how little I know."

She nodded, reflecting a shared sense of wonder. "I know exactly what you mean. The more we uncover, the more we realize how much remains hidden."

Her expression shifted subtly, curiosity giving way to a thoughtful look. "Have you ever wondered how we perceive reality?"

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?" He paused, with a hint of skepticism. “Like what's real and what's just in our heads?”

She leaned back, her fingers tracing patterns on the cover of her book. "Yeah, exactly. Our perception of what we see might just be that—a perception, not the whole truth."

He pondered her words, his brow furrowing slightly. "So, you're saying what we experience might not be the complete picture?"

She smiled enigmatically. "I'm saying… it's like reality has layers, and we're only scratching the surface. There might be a hidden world waiting to be uncovered." She paused, reflecting a moment of deep thought. "Have you ever noticed the tiny details around you, how certain places or people can make you feel really strong emotions?"

He leaned in, his voice hushed with a mix of relief and wonder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. On my way here, I felt this strange sensation, like everything was just too overwhelming. It felt like the world was too big, like too much to take in all at once."

Her eyes widened with recognition. "Oh, I know that feeling. Like the world's suddenly super vivid. But isn't it fascinating that we can feel that? Like we're tapping into something deeper, even if it's overwhelming?"

"Yeah, exactly. Like we're seeing beyond the everyday stuff. It's intense, but also... kind of amazing."

She laughed softly, her eyes lighting up. "Yeah, it's like seeing stuff differently shows how things are connected. You know how patterns show up everywhere? Like, the swirls in a seashell kinda look like the spiral of our galaxy. Or how tree branches spread out like rivers on a map." She tilted her head, thinking. "It's weird, right? Like there's a hidden order, a kind of symmetry in everything."

His eyes lit up with sudden understanding. "It's like we're uncovering a secret language," he whispered with a sense of awe. "All these patterns and connections... maybe that's why everything felt so intense earlier." He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. "We're not just seeing the world, we're..." he paused, searching for the right words, "...we're starting to read it."

She looked back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper. "Maybe that's our purpose," she said softly, filled with wonder. "To uncover how everything fits together. To discover the secrets of the universe, one pattern at a time."

He felt a sudden tingle, a glimmer of connection and purpose. "That would be... incredible," feeling the weight of her words. "A little scary, too, but definitely exciting."

As they sat in the cozy nook, surrounded by books and bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp, he felt a sense of wonder and possibility. Yet the atmosphere was changing, as she peered at the clock. With a soft sigh, she moved with reluctant grace, her actions tinged with poised elegance. "I hate to say it, but I've got to go. Class awaits." She began to gather her things.

"I enjoyed our talk." he said warmly, tinged with subtle yearning. “Take care.”

“You too,” her words fading in the distance.

Liam stood and noticed a small note left on her chair. Enthralled by curiosity, he picked it up as his gaze slowly glided over her words.

“Our pretend is pure magic. Don't stop, Liam. Same time, same place.

- Luna.”