Oh look! Another chapter instead of a flashback chapter! Yeah, I think you all need some more time before the next one. 

Do I have a plan here? I have ... one singular Quote, and a Vague Plot-Moving Idea. So ... do I have a plan? That's up for interpretation.

I read somewhere that you're most creative at night and least creative in the day, so I turned all the lights off to simulate darkness so I can write better. So far, it's worked. I think...?

This will get a direction. I hope...

Enjoy! :)

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Everyone is so happy that the Day of Silence went well. They're celebrating it in GSA on Monday. Everyone who participated is there.

And, since gays can't sit right, everyone is either sitting on the desks or sitting on the floor. Or there are the few who are in the chairs but are eating their lunch on their lap because their feet are propped up on the table. All are valid in their own ways.

And they're eating all the food Mr. Denton brought them.

"We're doing this next year, yeah?" David asks Mr. Denton.

"We do this every year," Tony answers his question.

"Yeah." Sean looks pointedly at Louis and Nick. "And if someone doesn't join in next year, it'll be sad without them."

"It's not MY fault we're leaving after this year!" Louis exclaims.

Nick buries his face in his hands. "Don't remind meeeee," he groans. He especially hates the idea of leaving. He likes being one of the oldest friends in their friend group, looking out for all the younger friends.

"Sean, look at what you did to them," Jack scolds him. "You know they'd participate next year if they could. And you know they don't like us talking about how they aren't going to be in school with us next year."

Sean rolls his eyes. "Sorry Jack."

"Yeah you should be," Jack continues on with his fake scolding-parent tone.

"But we also know that you don't want us talking about them leaving because it indicates that you will be the oldest grade in the school, and that your days of high school will be numbered next year, and you'll have to go out into the world yourself too," Sean counters, glint in his eye.

That was a good one.

Jack felt that one.

And he can't exactly say that it's false. Because it is true that Jack feels a little bit of panic every time he thinks about what being a senior will mean next year, how it means that this is last summer of true escapism, how even though he hates school with a passion he hates the idea of having to be an actual adult in the real world even more.

And because he has no counter argument to what Sean said, Jack just sighs.

Sean smirks, knowing he won.

Jack glares daggers at him. This isn't over, you mere sophomore.

Lunch goes on, everyone talking happily. All the pride flags are hanging around the room. 

A nice addition to the classroom, everyone declares.

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It's Saturday, and there's still so much that they want to know about their past lives.

It's affecting them all. They all feel it in different ways.

Right now, they're just trying to piece together why it would be now that it's affecting them. All contribute ideas.

Tony stops, and just starts staring off into the middle distance, eyebrows knotted, obviously thinking of something.

"What is it?" Sean asks him.

"Is this why we've been getting the déjà vu now?" Tony asks. "Starting in the summer? Because we were all the same age then that the newsies were when they were on strike?" So there is that for everyone to think about. But now here's his newest thought to share too: "And not only were we the right age, but what if it was to help us with our own 'strike' against higher powers taking rights away?"

Everyone's eyes widen as they all play with that thought.

Tony knows he's on to something.

Everyone else does too.

Surely it cannot be a coincidence that when they started getting the major déjà vu was when they were the same age as the newsies were when they went on strike all those years ago.

But throwing their own 'strike' into the mix adds another level to this entirely.

It's like ... everything aligns perfectly.

In 1899, all of them, mostly ages 14-18, got something taken away from them, and went on strike against the powerful forces of the city.

This year, all of them, ages 14-18, got something taken away from them, and protested against the powerful forces of the school.

And both won.

And they've all found each other again in this life.

They all know that they're missing a few details.

But this is just too many things coming together for it to be just one huge coincidence.

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On Sunday, Tony is walking around the outskirts of his grandparents' neighborhood. Here, it's a lot of old appartments, barren gardens, not many people. And that's why he likes it. No one's really lived here for a long time. It's kind of disconnected to the main neighborhood. It just kind of got abandoned over time.

It's nice until Tony nearly trips over a rock.

Luckily, he's able to catch himself for once and just ends up stumbling instead of face planting.

But ... it wasn't a solid rock.

Well, it was a solid. But it was ... soft?

In other words: not a rock.

"Huh...?"

He turns around and examines the *rock* closer.

It's the corner of a box.

A corner of a box is sticking out of the ground, probably buried over time of dirt moving around it and whatnot.

Tony should leave it alone. It looks old, and battered, and he has no idea where it's been or what it's been used for.

But curiosity overtakes him.

He tries digging into the ground. Finding out that that's not going to work with just his bare hands, he takes the time to walk to his grandparents' house and back, armed with a shovel this time.

Now he's back, and determined to find out what the heck the box is for, and just what exactly is inside it.

It doesn't take too long to get the box out of the ground. Seeing as now he no longer needs the shovel, he lets it clatter to the ground as he sits down and examines the box.

Tony's eyebrows knot in even further confusion now that he has it. "What the...?"

Three phrases are battling out in his head right now: the unfinished one he just uttered, along with ¿Qué es esto? and Che cos'è questo? and because his near-trilingual mind can't pick one, he just leaves his sentence trailing off.

As gently as he can, he opens the cardboard box. It's so old. He handles it as delicately as he can.

Inside, he finds...

A single jigsaw puzzle piece. 

Where's the rest of the puzzle?

There aren't any scattered puzzle pieces in the pile of dirt surrounding him from what he dug up trying to get the box; meaning that all he has is this box and its singular puzzle piece.

He looks all around the box to see if there are any words on it, or a date of some sort.

There, on the bottom: Heaven and Earth Blending. 323 Pieces. With the date of 1933.

All of it's very faded. He has to squint to make out most of that. There are more words, some with letters so faded that he doesn't even try to figure out what they mean.

The thing is ... he's so sure he's seen this somewhere.

And seeing this feels ... emotional?

Why the heck would seeing this make him emotional?

Unless...

Possibly...

What was Racetrack Higgins doing with a puzzle made in 1933?

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I'm soooooo glad I was able to find a way to write that cliffhanger. I was struggling with that for awhile. Now it's here.

Oh right. You all don't know about the puzzle.

Yeah, that's going to change very, very soon.

The amount of foreshadowing right there-

Also, the bit about the different languages competing in his head is inspired by me, who will say something random in any language or will almost say something random in another language. ¿Qué es esto? is the most common one haha. And ... most of them are exclamations // words to express confusion haha.

I did a lot of research of jigsaw puzzles in the 1930's.

Ready to find out why?

Please, no homophobia or transphobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is now questioning their current choice of writing style but knows that it's going to change again in some way/shape/form/etc anyway)