As Mark walked toward the parking lot, it was clear school was over for the day. Seniors were climbing into their cars, showing off for underclassmen who watched with envy. Music thumped from open windows. Someone revved their engine unnecessarily, the sound echoing off the brick buildings.
He stood waiting for Henry when he saw Sherry Braithwaite heading straight toward him, her dark curls bouncing with each step.
His teenage body responded immediately, flooding him with hormones he hadn't felt in years. Something about her made his heart race in ways that felt completely beyond his control. Hugo's seventy-year-old mind was a passenger in a seventeen-year-old vehicle that had its own ideas about what mattered.
"Hey, Mark," she said, stopping in front of him.
"Ignore her, Mr. Lidorf," the system voice chimed in immediately. "This interaction has a ninety-three percent probability of being unproductive."
Shut the fuck up, Mark thought.
"Do not repeat that command. I can literally hear your thoughts. All of them. Even the embarrassing ones."
"Hey, you." Sherry waved her hand in front of his face. "Earth to Mark? You okay? You look kind of spaced out."
"Sorry. Hey, Sherry."
"Listen, I saw what happened in the cafeteria." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that probably broke hearts regularly. "Stop trying to impress me, Mark. I already told you freshman year. I can't date someone like you. It's not going to happen."
Wait. This girl actually thought he'd fought Daniel to get her attention? Like she was the center of his universe? The main character in everyone's story?
"Who said I was trying to impress you?" Mark replied, genuinely confused.
Her expression shifted to surprise, then something that might have been irritation. "Come on. We all know why you did it. Everyone's talking about it." She looked him up and down critically. "And why aren't you wearing your glasses? Just be yourself, Mark. The nerd thing works for you. Don't try to be something you're not."
She walked away like she'd just dropped the mic at a rap battle, leaving him standing there with stitches in his face and apparently zero self-awareness about how the world actually worked.
"Bitch," Mark muttered under his breath.
"Somebody needs to learn to listen to me," the system voice said, dripping with digital sarcasm. "I did warn you that interaction would be unproductive. Current affection rating: negative twelve." Shut up.
Henry appeared from the main building, backpack slung over one shoulder, phone in hand scrolling through what was probably footage of the cafeteria fight going viral.
"Stitches again," Henry said, studying Mark's battered face with concern. "You sure you're okay? You look like you got hit by a truck."
"I'm good, bro. What's next?"
"There's our ride." Henry pointed at the yellow school buses lined up like a fleet of shame.
Mark stared in horror. "Tell me you're kidding."
Henry just smiled, clearly enjoying his friend's discomfort. Seniors riding the bus with freshmen and sophomores. Hugo had never experienced this level of social hierarchy failure, even in his poorest days. Even when he'd been scraping by, he'd at least had a beat-up car to maintain some dignity.
"Man, where are your glasses?" Henry asked as they climbed aboard. "Did they get broken in the fight?"
"Last time I'm answering this, bro. I don't need glasses anymore." Mark's voice came out sharper than he intended, frustration bleeding through. "And this bus situation? It has to stop. Tomorrow, I'm finding another way."
He'd lived this low for exactly one day and he was already exhausted. He needed to climb at least two rungs up this social ladder. Tomorrow, no more school bus. That was non-negotiable.
They took seats by the window, middle of the bus where the seniors usually clustered. Behind them, sophomores were singing badly with some girl who clearly thought she was the next big thing. The noise was physically painful, bouncing off the metal walls.
At the front of the bus sat a blonde girl, completely absorbed in a book despite the chaos erupting around her. Something about her focus, her ability to tune everything out, caught Mark's attention. She had that rare quality of being genuinely present in her own world, unbothered by teenage social dynamics.
A notification appeared in his vision, floating over the girl's head like a quest marker in a video game.
"Open the notification, Mr. Lidorf," the system prompted. "New task available."
Mark double-tapped the air in front of him, hoping Henry wasn't watching him gesture at nothing like a crazy person.
[New Task Generated] TASK TWO: Acquire Becky Moonwell's phone number.]
[Reward: $100,000] [Optional Bonus: +$5,000 Player free to decline or accept]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours]
Mark blinked. A hundred grand for a phone number. Mark stared at the notification floating in his vision, processing the implications. Bonuses weren't deposited directly. That meant human interaction, negotiation, leverage. The old-fashioned way.
He understood that pattern. Every event connected to the next, building toward something bigger. Bonuses weren't magic or luck. It was cause and effect played at a level most people couldn't perceive. A chain of events that only made sense when you could see the whole board.
He double-tapped to close the notification and glanced back at the blonde girl reading at the front of the bus. Their eyes met for a brief moment. She smiled, probably amused at the weird senior with stitches on his face tapping the air like an idiot.
"Bro," Mark whispered to Henry, who was scrolling through his phone. "Who's that girl reading up front?"
He expected her to be Becky Moonwell. Time to start working.