Ted was stunning, as if he'd stepped from another world. By that afternoon, girls from every grade had crammed against the windows, gawking at him.

A few days later, even the prom queen slipped him notes, but he brushed them all off, preferring to doze in the back row as if nothing mattered.

He ignored books and lectures alike, and the teachers turned a blind eye. Only during tests would he nudge my back and say, "Hey, let me copy your answers."

He seemed to assume I'd comply, and I did. That irritated the other guys, who branded him a show-off and started picking fights with him every few days in the alley behind the school.

I'd catch glimpses of those brawls almost daily.

One evening, as I biked past, I spotted him slumped against the wall, smoking through a battered face. I hesitated, then braked and fished a Band-Aid from my pocket.

"You're bleeding," I said, offering it to him.

He glanced up with an icy stare. "Scram."

What a jerk! I wasn't crushing on him; it was just basic decency.

After that, I ignored his nudges for answers. A month later, his admirers dwindled, but the rumors only grew.

Some said that his jacket was from some obscure luxury brand, costing 30 grand. Others whispered he was the son of a mistress, abandoned when the wife discovered the affair. His mom couldn't handle life in Eldonfield anymore, so they'd returned to their roots.

The stares shifted, blending envy with scorn and a twisted curiosity.

One dusk, as I biked through the alley on my way home, I found him sprawled on the ground in the aftermath of a brutal fight.

His knuckles were bloody, his face marred with cuts. Blood trickled from his forehead.

I nearly kept pedaling, but the falling snow had half-buried him, and his pallor was ghostly. Worried, I approached and nudged him gently. "Are you okay?"

Getting no response, I panicked and pulled out my phone. "I'm calling 911."

Only then did he crack an eye open, frowning. "It's you again."

I was annoyed, but urgency took precedence. "You're really messed up. Let's get you to the hospital."

"Mind your own business," he spat, his lids dropping again.

I dialed anyway. He was shivering in just a black hoodie, so after a moment's hesitation, I shrugged off my red down jacket and draped it over him.

He tensed and called out as I turned away. My faded, frumpy coat looked almost comical on him. "You know my mom is a mistress, right?"

I mounted my bike. "I've heard the rumors. And?"

"Then why help me?"

"You're not her. Being the other woman sucks, but it's not a death sentence."

Silence fell as snow dusted his lashes, and he stared at me. The sirens began wailing in the distance, and I waved. "Don't forget to return the jacket."

He was absent for a week after that, and his opponents fared no better.

His mother, Mamie Hubbard, stormed into the school, resulting in their expulsion all around.

A week later, Ted returned and handed me a blue down jacket, averting his eyes. "Yours got trashed. This is a replacement."

I accepted it without question. It was only much later that I learned its value could have bought every piece of clothing I'd ever owned.

From there, things gradually eased between us. He thawed toward me, and I became his only friend in that small town.

Just before finals, he suddenly asked, "Have you thought about studying abroad?"

I blinked in surprise, and he flushed, his ears turning red. "My mom's planning to send me to Araros after graduation. Want to join?"

I gave a bitter laugh. "My family can't afford to send me overseas."

"Where are you headed, then?"

"Nyxifall, probably. The south is too muggy for me, and Nyxifall's close enough that I can hop on a train and be home in a few hours."

He yanked my hat down over my eyes and fell silent. During the dream schools exercise, I expected him to list Araros, but instead, he matched my choice of Nyxifall.

I was shocked. "What about Araros?"

He slumped over his desk. "Nah, it's overrated. Nyxifall sounds solid."

...

Three days before the exams, he ripped up his slip.

When I probed, he stayed silent. That night, I learned the truth: Pierre Wiley's wife and son had both perished in a car crash, and he was summoning Mamie and Ted back.

Pierre finally paid attention to his one remaining heir, offering legitimacy and inheritance if Ted stayed in Eldonfield.

Ted scoffed at the money, but Mamie slapped him amid tears. "All the suffering I've endured over the years for what? For you! If he marries me, I'll no longer be the mistress, and no one can call you a bastard anymore!"

Under the birches in the summer heat, with cicadas droning loudly, Ted hung his head. "I'm sorry, Nora. Nyxifall is out for me."

His voice was cracked from crying, his eyes rimmed red. After a moment's thought, I tiptoed up and tapped his head. "No sweat. I'll join you in Eldonfield instead."

...

Morning light filtered in, and I opened my eyes, my head pounding from yesterday's flurries.

Still, my friend's birthday beckoned. Gift in hand, I couldn't skip it.

My phone buzzed with a message from Ted: [Forgot these. Swing by tonight.]

Attached was a photo of the Snoopy pajamas.

They were a sneaky couple's set I'd bought—one for him, one for me. Whenever he wore his, it sparked a fleeting illusion of happiness, as if he belonged to me, even if just for a moment. In hindsight, it was pathetically laughable.

I replied: [Toss them. Don't need them anymore.]

There was no response, and I flopped over, covering my eyes with my arm.

Life in Eldonfield had changed Ted profoundly. I learned then that his mom hadn't been the mistress after all. She had been Pierre's first love, bearing Ted out of genuine passion.

But Pierre had abandoned them for a status-matched marriage.

After the marriage, Pierre continued straying, even scheming to produce more heirs.

Mamie endured endless torment and rows, spiraling into severe depression before ultimately jumping to her death. Pierre seemed to reform afterward, but the chasm between the father and son was irreparable.

Ted stopped going home, diving instead into booze, reckless driving, and heavy smoking. He became the stereotypical trust-fund kid, reveling in nightly excesses. Once aloof toward girls, he now navigated relationships with the skill of a seasoned player.

The pure, untainted boy I'd known had faded into an illusion—a ghost from my memories.

...

That night at the party, I met Ted's new girlfriend for the first time.

She was fair-skinned and fresh-faced, wrapped in a camel coat with chestnut curls tucked into a cashmere scarf. Her smiles crinkled her eyes—sweet rather than stunning, but radiating an innocent purity.

Ted had been right; she was leagues apart from his previous girlfriends.

"You're Nora, right?" Audrey Vincent bounced over, clasping my hand with a grin. "Ted talks about you all the time. What a liar, saying you're plain. You're gorgeous!"

As a woman, I could easily detect the veiled hostility in her eyes. Her intuition must have sensed that my history with Ted wasn't ordinary.

Before I could respond, Ted intercepted us, linking his hand with hers. "Meet Audrey, my girlfriend."

The crowd erupted in whoops. "This is the first real girlfriend Ted's ever introduced! She's definitely keeper material."

"Audrey's impressive, snagging him when no one else could."

"When is the wedding? I'll bring a handsome gift!"

Audrey blushed, nestling closer to Ted with a shy smile. The latter shielded her. "Ease up, guys. Don't spook her."

His friends teased back. "Already in protector mode? We're drowning in sweetness here."

We settled into our seats, and out of habit, Ted claimed the spot to my left. I was about to nudge him when Audrey approached.

She pressed her lips together, probing, "Nora, would you mind swapping spots? Since you're single, it's best to keep some distance from a guy who has a girlfriend, right?"

Her blunt request made me frown. Since I had taken that spot first, the one who should move was certainly not me.

But Ted poked me. "Come on. Just humor her a bit."

I glanced at him, then rose and relocated to the opposite side.

The night buzzed with energy, booze flowing freely. Mid-meal, Audrey nudged Ted. "I want some of that salmon."

He responded automatically, "But aren't you allergic to fish?"

My fork halted mid-air as silence stretched. Audrey's expression soured. "No, I'm not."

Ted froze. "Oh, must've mixed it up."

She pressed, "Who is allergic to fish, then?"

He shrugged. "Brain fog. I've had too much to drink."

She shot me a dark look, then deliberately dropped a piece of salmon onto my plate, staring intently. "Try it, Nora. It's good."