Chapter 1: The Day Everything Changed

Before the SATs, my neighbor’s older sister fell for a guy with bleached blond hair—the kind of bleach that left his roots showing and made him look like he belonged on a late-night MTV rerun.

It was the kind of drama everyone in our small Ohio suburb would whisper about over burgers and backyard cornhole games—her skipping class every day, sneaking off with him to indie movie theaters, dingy roadside motels, and winding, overgrown parks at the edge of town. If you watched closely from your kitchen window, you might catch her slipping out at dusk, jacket over her shoulders, eyes shining like she was walking into 'Thunder Road.'

When I couldn’t talk her out of it, I told her mom. I remember standing awkwardly on their front porch, shifting my weight, my breath puffing in the cold, my hands jammed in my hoodie pocket, wishing I could disappear into the porch railings, the words coming out in a jumble that I couldn't take back.

She was forced to break up with the blond guy and repeat her senior year. Her mom’s tears sounded through the thin apartment walls, and the whole street seemed to hold its breath that week.

Years later, we fell in love and got married. Friends joked at our wedding, raising their Solo cups in the church basement—someone balancing a sheet cake on the folding table, the smell of coffee and cheap cologne everywhere—that we were high school sweethearts who took the long way around.

On the day she gave birth, she held a newborn Black baby in her arms, laughing hysterically.

She threw her head back, laughing so hard the nurses glanced over. “I married you just to get revenge, so you’ll never be able to show your face again.”

It felt like I’d been struck by lightning—and then, out of nowhere, I got into a car accident. The world spun out, headlights streaking like shooting stars on the interstate.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my junior year of high school. The familiar ache of a cheap wooden desk under my forearm, fluorescent lights humming, the PA system crackling with a morning announcement, sneakers squeaking down the hallway, the scent of pencil shavings and someone’s half-eaten peanut butter sandwich wafting through the air.