Something deep inside me stirred the moment I walked into Deepvale High this morning. That same feeling, uncomfortable, like something was off, had been bugging me every day for the past two weeks. Ever since Jack Wilson started being nice to me.

I know, I have trust issues. But it's not my fault. The school counsellor says it's because of all the bullying I've had to endure in my life.

In all honesty, the school counsellor exaggerating a little. It's not as if I've been targeted on a daily basis, or as if I've been beaten up a lot. It's not as if everyone avoids me in fear of being targeted as well. I think the school counsellor was bullied himself when he was a kid, and now he's projecting it on me. All it is, in truth, is a handful of boys in my year being rude to me, making fun of me.

It used to bother me, back in first year. But they do it to everyone. I tend to just ignore them.

Coincidentally, those boys I mentioned are Jack and his friends. Most of them are bastards in general, making jokes at everyone's expense, but Jack has always singled me out, for some reason. Hence the uncomfortable feeling ever since his behaviour towards me changed so drastically.

"Morning, Emma!"

My eyes automatically flash back and forth at the sound of his voice, searching for the signs. People staring, pointing at the unlikely duo that Jack makes of us.

But I see none of that. After two weeks, the others seem to have gotten used to it, continuing their conversations like nothing happened. I don't think I ever will.

I turn around to face him, my breath automatically held. In all honesty, I understand why he's so popular. In history class, I once saw I picture of the statue of Adonis, some kind of Greek demi-god or something, and he totally reminded me of Jack. Exactly the same. Everything from the curly hair to the chiselled jaw. From the muscles to the perfect symmetry of the face. They could've been twins, if Jack had been born a few thousand years earlier.

I understand people find him attractive. But when I lay eyes on him, my brain fires off so many warning signs that it obscures his hotness.

Watching him wave and walk towards me, I take a deep breath. If he notices anything of my discomfort, he doesn't show it.

"How was your weekend?" He smiles as he leads me toward my locker. A real smile. Or at least, it's good enough to fool me.

"It was alright," I say warily, still waiting for the punchline, even though he hadn't done that in more than two weeks. "Quiet."

Jack chuckles. "That's what you said last week."

Is it? I can't remember. He makes me nervous. Could this be some sort of test? To see if I'm good enough to join their little clique? Did I just ruin it by being too weird?

No. No, that's ridiculous. Jack made his mind up about me the minute I set foot in Deepvale High in our first year.

So why is he being so nice all of a sudden?

"My weekends are usually quiet," I explain, as I take my books out of my locker. Then, realising how lonely this makes me sound, I add, "I like them that way." Ugh that didn't help, did it?

Jack leans against the locker next to mine, and I can't help but glance around. Nobody is watching us, but they've seen us. I wonder what they're thinking. I don't even know what to think, myself.

He folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes curiously. I am reminded of that time he folded his arms like that a few years ago, one of the few times I fired some kind of come-back back at him. It didn't end well for me. Ignoring works so much better. "So what do you do on the weekends? You don't seem like the type to go out to parties much. Or do sports, or shit like that."

No, those are your things.

He grins. "Don't tell me you spend all weekend in your room, like, reading or something."

I enjoy reading! The objection is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it and shrug. "Music, mostly. I play guitar. Music calms me."

Jack's eyes light up. "That's brilliant. I'd love to hear you play sometime."

I nod in a non-committal way. Even the thought of playing for Jack makes me shiver. He'll play some kind of prank, film it and put it on the internet for everyone to bask in my embarrassment, no doubt. He's done something like that before.

All of a sudden I wonder why I even entertain him. Why am I talking to him, when all he's ever done is be rude to me? Why do I not just turn my back to him and ignore whatever he has to say?

For a moment I let the idea run around in my brain. My ponytail sweeping as I turn my back to him. Jack's disappointed face as I completely ignore his questions. I wish I could be like that. I wish I could be braver. More bitchy. Sassy even, perhaps. But it's just not who I am. When someone speaks to me kindly, no matter how dodgy it may be, I respond kindly. It's an automatic reaction.

We round a corner and Jack stops walking, gesturing towards one of the lockers. "I'll just get my stuff quickly as well. See you in class, yeah?"

"Sure."

He flashes one last smile at me as I continue down the hall towards the English classroom. I'm barely halfway down the hall when I trip and let out a startled yelp before falling flat on my face.

Laughter explodes around me. I've never understood why my embarrassment gives others so much pleasure. It's been a while since they've done something physical like this. A year, at least. Usually they just shout some kind of dumb joke at my expense through the classroom. I guess the silence of the past few weeks needed some compensation.

My face heats up as I scramble to my feet. I'm ready to scurry off without even acknowledging the boys who did this, when a voice freezes me in place.

"Hey! Stop that, you twats!"

The laughter has faded before the voice has even registered in my brain.

Jack.

"Stop what? I didn't do anything." The other boy, Vince, one of Jack's best friends, takes a bored tone, but his eyes shoot daggers at Jack.

"I've told you to stay away from her," Jack hisses. He takes a step closer so that Vince has to look up at him.

For a few moments, they just glare at each other. Then Vince shrugs. "Fine. Whatever. We'll wait until you're done with her." His eyes flick to me and he adds darkly, "Won't be long anyway."

All I can do as the crowd dissipates, is stare. My brain works hard to comprehend what just happened, but it struggles. This has never happened before.

"Are you okay?" Jack comes closer, a concerned look on his face. "You're bleeding."

I am? I wipe a trickle of blood from under my nose without breaking eye contact. "It's fine. Why did you do that?"

A blush creeps up his neck. "What are you talking about? If you think I'd let them –"

"No, Jack..." I sigh. How do I say this without it sounding accusing? "We both know you're usually the one doing the tripping. Now you're standing up for me. What changed?"

"You're right," Jack mutters. I've never seen him look so dejected before. It's a sharp contrast with his usually confident self. "I've been kind of an arsehole. In fact, that's why I did this. I want to be better. You don't deserve this. I'm doing my best to..."

"Change?" I finish for him, smiling.

His face lights up as he nods. "I'm doing my best. I promise."

"Okay," I say, turning to continue our way to the classroom. I wonder what the school counsellor would say about this development. Perhaps he'd be disappointed, at being proven wrong. "I hope to see you succeed."

We have assigned seats in class, so we each take our own place, but not before Jack tells me he'll save me a seat at lunchtime.

My brain mulls over this newfound friendship as I wait for the teacher to arrive. With a start I realise that that's what it is: a friendship. A strange one, but still. If someone had told me a month ago that I'd become friends with Jack Wilson soon, I'd have thought them insane. Yet here we are.

And he's even talking about change. Honestly, has he hit his head or something?

"Emma."

The whisper of the girl next to me breaks me from my thoughts. It's Lynn, a girl who I sometimes sit with during lunch. She's generally quiet, but not this quiet. Without the teacher here, the class is rowdy. Why would she be whispering?

I glance at her, but she doesn't make eye-contact.

"You know he's playing games, right?" Lynn mutters to the paper she's doodling on.

I frown. What on earth is she talking about? "Who's playing games?"

She shoots me an annoyed look, as if I've offended her by not understanding her immediately. "Your new friend," she mutters so quietly I can barely hear it. "He made a bet with his friends about getting you into bed with him. That's why he's being so nice to you all of a sudden."

My heart drops. A bet? That's what this has all been about?

My fingers curl into fists as I stare at my desk. Tears prick against the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them reach my eyes. Of course that's what this was about. Why am I even surprised? Jack is a bully. He didn't get better, he got worse. I should never have let him fool me into thinking he could be anything more than that. Into thinking he could change.

"You didn't hear this from me!"

There is fear in Lynn's eyes. She doesn't want to be next.

My nose still throbs. I can't blame her.

My cheeks flush as I remember the way he smiled at me. The way he laughed at my jokes. The way he reached out to touch my cheek when my nose bled. His concern had seemed so genuine.

But with what I know now, something else resurfaces along with the memory. There was something cold in his eyes. Wasn't there? I don't know. Maybe I'm making it up. I can't tell what's real anymore. The disappointment is clouding my judgment.

All I know is that I want an explanation.

So when lunchbreak arrives, I purposely catch his eye over the heads of the teenagers packing up their things, and then walk away. Out of the classroom, through the halls, out of the school building.

It is cold out today, so there aren't many students outside. Which means not many eavesdroppers. Not many to witness my latest embarrassment.

"Hey, Em."

Em. I almost gag at the nickname. How dare he call me that, after lying to me the way he has?

"Why are you doing this, Jack?" I ask, clenching my teeth to keep in the anger. "Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

Jack chuckles nervously. "I told you. I'm trying to change."

"Right," I spit. "So it has nothing to do with that bet, then?"

The blood drains from his face. "B-Bet?"

"Yeah, you know, the one where you said you get me into your bed? Does that ring any bells?"

"You... I..." Jack sighs. "Who told you about that?"

The fear in Lynn's face resurfaces in my mind's eye. No way I'm telling him that. "It doesn't matter. It's true, isn't it?"

"Well... Yes, but... It's not what you think!" he sputters.

I scoff. "How could it possibly not be what I think? The only reason you tried to be my friend, was because of a stupid bet. I should've known, really, shouldn't I? Well, tough luck. Consider your bet lost."

"Wait. Let me explain. Please, Emma." He holds up his hands in defeat, but it only angers me more.

"There's nothing to explain. You played me. But that's really nothing new, is it?"

"I didn't. Not this time. I've changed, Emma, I promise. You have to believe me."

"Oh, please!" I throw up my hands in frustration. If there's one thing I've learned since I started high school, it's that change it a myth. "People don't change. They just get better at hiding who they really are."

I came for an explanation, but I'm too angry to listen. In a haze of rage, I push past him to stomp back towards the school. But I've barely taken two steps before he grabs my arm to stop me.

"You're right," he says, his voice thick with... Sadness? Regret? Or am I imagining things again? "I haven't changed. I've always felt this way. But I never knew what to do with it. How to deal with it. But ever since you returned my essay to me, I knew I had to figure it out."

My jaw drops. "Your essay? What are you talking about?"

His eyes light up, despite the sadness pulling at the corners of his lips. "You don't remember? I'll never forget. That essay we had to write on the second world war, that would count for like half of our history grade this year? I would've failed the class if I'd gotten a low grade on it, which would've cost me my spot on the team. And then my stupid arse left the finished essay in the library like a fucking idiot. I couldn't find it anywhere. I'd almost resigned to rewriting as much of it as possible, with two hours to go until the class started. But you found it. Do you remember?"

I hesitate, but nod. Of course I remember. When I'd seen the name on the first page, I'd almost left it where it was. Or thrown it in the bin. Almost.

"You brought it back to me. You saved my grade, even though I've only ever been a huge twat to you. That's when I knew."

Jack steps forward and I look up hesitantly. I'm still angry with him, but I'm even more confused. Is he speaking the truth, or is this another trick?

"The only reason I made that bet was so my mates wouldn't stop me from being your friend. I just wanted to get close to you. I wanted a chance, because... Because I like you, Emma. I like you a lot. Always have. But I had no intention of ever fulfilling that bet."

I study his face carefully, searching for any sign of insincerity. This has to be a trick, right? There's no way this is true.

So why does it feel so genuine?

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

Jack winces at my words. "You're not. Just give me a chance. Give me time, and I'll prove it to you. I promise I will win back your trust."

"You can't win back what you've never had," I snap.

As he hangs his head, I overthink his words. His bullying, if you can call it that, stopped months ago. Though I can't remember if it was right after I gave him back his essay. It could have been.

Has he really liked me this whole time? I find that difficult to believe. I've not had many boyfriends before. Never anything serious. Never anyone who was so crazy about me that he didn't know what to do with himself. Especially someone like Jack. That's not me. I'm just Emma. Normal, quiet Emma.

On the other hand, I can't deny it's been fun the past two weeks, despite the awkwardness. Having a friend. Having a laugh with him.

The question isn't whether I trust him. The question is: Am I willing to give this possible, weird friendship another chance?

"Fine," I say eventually, watching his face light up with hope. "One chance," I warn him. "Mess it up and I'll never speak to you again."

He nods vehemently. "You won't regret this, Emma."

"Yeah," I mutter, as he throws one arm around me. "I hope I won't."

Round 3.1

Prompt: Write a teen fiction story based on a quote from a list. Quote chosen: People don't change. They just get better at hiding who they really are. - Courtney Summers, Sadie.

Wordcount: 2763