The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 5

Nova
It's been three weeks since Amir and I started talking. He's taken me out a few times, and we've been sneaking around school, kissing between classes like something out of a bad teen drama. I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend soon.

I still have a crush on Daisuke... but I know nothing's ever going to happen. He's like the sky—way too far out of reach—and I'm just stuck on the ground. The only time we ever talk is in agriculture, and even then, it's just about assignments.

So maybe it's time to let go. Move on. Settle.

I get out of bed, grab my dirty laundry basket, and head to the washer. Cleaning helps clear my mind, and I've got nothing better to do today.

As I toss clothes in, something catches my eye—something that definitely isn't mine.

A jacket.

Wait.

This is his jacket. Daisuke's. From Amir's party. He gave it to me when he dropped me off that night and I never gave it back.

Should I return it? Or just... keep it? I mean, he probably has like ten jackets just like this. He wouldn't miss it.

Am I weird for wanting to keep it?

I throw it in the washer and pour in too much detergent. Whatever. I like when my clothes smell strong. Clean and soft, like I've been hugged by a cloud.

Back upstairs, I text Amir. He's been begging me to go to this haunted house tomorrow. Halloween's around the corner—it's my favorite holiday. I already planned me and my friends' costumes back in August. We're going as the Powerpuff Girls. Giovanni's gonna be Professor Utonium. It's going to be so cute.

Amir: Come on, Nova, it'll be fun. Don't be lame.
Me: Fine, I guess I'll go. But only if you buy me food after.
Amir: Deal. I'll pick you up at 8.
Me: Kk.

"Nova!" my dad calls from downstairs.

If I yell "what," he'll just call me again until I come to him. He's like that. So I head down to the living room.

He's sitting on the couch, beer in hand, half-watching a football game.

"You wanna go out to eat with me and your mom? There's a new place in town," he says.

I try to play it cool, but honestly, I love these moments. They're rare.

"Yeah, I'm down."

"Cool. We leave in twenty."

I go back upstairs to get ready. I don't want to dress too nice—this is dinner with my parents, not a date—so I throw on a gray cropped jacket with matching pants and my white Air Forces. I slick my hair into a curly ponytail with a swoop, add a little gloss, and boom—done.

"Let's go, Nova," my dad calls.

"Coming!" I grab my purse and head down.

"You look nice," my mom says as I walk in.

"Thanks. You do too," I smile. She's in her usual "trying to be trendy" look—tight white jeans and a basic black top. She always says she has style, but she kinda dresses like a fashionable white grandma. Still, she's a baddie. I mean, she looks like me.

"Thank you, sweetie. Your dad's already in the car," she says.

"He's always so impatient," I mutter.

"Tell me about it," she laughs.

The drive is short. Radio on low, peaceful vibes. We pull up to a new Italian place—La Mia Gente. My dad opens the doors for both of us, like he always does. He says, "If I don't treat you right, how will you know what to expect from your future boyfriend?"

We walk in. It's packed, loud, warm. A hostess greets us, and my mom asks for a table for three. As we're led through the dining area, my heart stutters.

Daisuke.

He's here. Sitting with Antonio and Andre. Laughing.

He spots me. Smiles. Waves.

God, his smile. His eyes sparkle when he smiles, like he means it every time. Like kindness lives there.

I smile back, then look away before my face betrays me and shows how fast my heart's beating.

We're seated three tables away. I can see everything from here.

The waitress brings menus. My parents order lemon waters—classic—and I ask for a Sprite.

They always sneak flavor packets into their water, like they're making bootleg lemonade. It's their little "life hack," even though drinks only cost three bucks. I swear they're so cheap sometimes.

I glance back at Daisuke's table. They're laughing at something Andre said. I want to be there. I want to be part of that moment.

"Nova, did you hear me?" my dad says.

I blink, turning back to him. "Huh?"

"I asked what you want to order."

"Oh. Chicken pasta, probably."

He nods and turns to talk to my mom. I look down at the menu, pretending to read, but I've already made up my mind.

The waitress returns, takes our orders, then walks off.

I peek back over at Daisuke's table again. He's holding a napkin, laughing with Antonio and Andre. I wish I was there. I wish I could make him laugh like that.

"Nova," my mom says, serious this time.

"Yeah?"

"We didn't just bring you here for dinner," she starts.

My stomach flips.

"We've been talking," she continues, "and we think it's time for a change. We want you to attend a boarding school in Pennsylvania. It's called Hera's School for Girls."

She slides the pamphlet toward me.

I blink.

"What?"

"It's a great opportunity," my dad says. "You're struggling, Nova. Your grades are average at best. You're barely passing agriculture—and that's an elective. Plus, you've been skipping class."

"You don't understand! I can't just go to boarding school—in Pennsylvania! I'll do anything. I'll get a tutor—whatever it takes."

"We tried that already," my mom says gently. "Remember? You didn't take it seriously. It was a waste of time and money."

"There has to be another option!" I protest, my voice rising. "Please."

"I'm sorry," she says. "There isn't."

I feel the tears coming fast. I can't cry in front of everyone. I won't.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I mumble, shoving my chair back and walking away before the first tear falls.

I push through the restroom door and head straight to a stall, slamming it shut behind me. I lean against the wall and let it out—sobbing, broken, helpless.

Why do I always care too much? Why am I so damn sensitive?

One loud cry slips past my lips, echoing off the tile.

Then—knock knock.

I freeze.

"Nova?" a voice says softly.

That voice.

It's him, Daisuke.