The noise of the school hallway seemed to dim the moment ;Ethan Fox stepped inside, but he didn't seem to notice .
Ethan wore a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark fitted jeans and clean white sneakers. A simple black watch rested on his wrist, a functional piece that suited him perfectly. His backpack was worn but well-kept, like something he valued enough to take care of.
As he moved through the crowded hallway, the whispers around him grew louder. Some students stared outright, while a few others tried to look busy when his gaze passed over them.
Suddenly, a voice boomed from down the hallway, shouting his name. It was Ryan, his best friend, who was also over six feet tall with an athletic build just like Ethan although Ethan is about an inch or two taller than the captain of the school's football team
"How have you been, man? I came to the hospital, but a pretty nurse said you'd already been discharged, I'm telling you that nurse was more focused on getting my digit than taking your vitals. Ethan expression suddenly had a grim face then ha had to get back at the issue at hand; I thought the 'Spade' was fine, though?" Ryan said, his expression filled with concern.
"Be serious, Rye," Ethan said, shaking his head. "The 'Spade' isn't back at all. I just got discharged and I'm still on medication. I have a lot of classwork to catch up on, and I have to meet with the guidance counselor to discuss how to make up the missing parts of this semester. The 'Spade' isn't back for real... "He got moody about it
"You'll be fine, you know it," Ryan said, clapping him on the back. "We've seriously missed you around here, honestly, man."
They continued their conversation as Lana Hills passed by Ethan's side. She slightly brushed against him, and he turned to look at her.
The moment he saw her, he was hit with an affection of proto-love, He was so lost in the moment that he couldn't hear what Ryan was saying anymore.
Ryan noticed Ethan was lost in thught and pinched his arm to bring him back to reality. "You still haven't gotten rid of that habit, have you? Is it...?" He was interrupted
"Who is that?" Ethan asked, pointing at the blonde girl, she was a stranger. She felt more than a stranger to him; she felt like a forgotten piece of his own past
"Oh, that's Lana." Ryan said, "Don't tell me you don't remember your summer girl" he laughed holding his stomach
Ethan just stood there, confused and dumbfounded. "Summer girl? Like what do you mean?"
"Now I believe you really did hit your head hard."
The school bell rang to signal the beginning of the class for the day.
"Well, I have to get to class, and you have to go see the guidance counselor to discuss your courses. I'll hit you up later, alright?"
"No issues, I'll get going."
"Hope you know the way," he laughed sarcastically.
"Shut up, fool." He said smiling at him
Ryan left first to get to class. Ethan went to find his way to the guidance counselor's office.
***
"Well, class, this is how the Declaration of Independence got passed down..."
The classroom door opened and Mrs. Smith walked in, cutting off the lecture.
"Good morning Mrs Evans, I am sorry for interrupting; Class, I would like you to welcome back Mr. Ethan Fox," she announced. "Please ensure you guide him and treat him well. Also, update him on what you have covered in the curriculum so far; make sure he doesn't get left behind. Go take your seat now."
Ethan glared at Ryan, who was making funny faces at him. He had planned to take the empty seat behind Ryan at the back of the room, but instead, he walked straight to the seat beside Lana. After sitting down, he felt a shock of surprise, but he decided to settle in anyway. He took out his notebook, but he felt a little lost. He wasn't filled with a sense of purpose on what to write because he had no idea where to start.
"Hey, could you help me with your notes, please?" he whispered.
She glanced at him, looked down at her notebook, and then turned back to the teacher without a response. He was suprised but decided to let it go.
Maybe she was just engrossed in the class, he thought to himself but remembering what Ryan told him in the hallway, things are not the way seem.
He concluded that he would get Ryan's help after class. Although Ryan could be playful and unserious, he was actually one of the top students in the class.
Immediately after advanced maths, Ethan went back to see Mrs Smith for his psychological evaluation.
The scent of chalk, ink, and stale coffee lingered in the guidance counselor's office. Ethan walked out feeling no clearer than when he went in. His counselor, a kind-faced woman named Mrs Smith, had been sympathetic but offered little more than platitudes and a referral to a specialist. The session had only solidified the unsettling fact: a single, crucial season of his life had been erased. He used to know the face of every teacher, the layout of every classroom, and the lyrics to every song on his phone from before July, but the moment he thought of that summer, a thick, impenetrable fog settled over his mind.
After leaving the office of the Guidance counsellor he left for the Footballers dressing room, he found Ryan at his locker, pulling on a pair of cleats and taping his wrists. The rhythmic tear of the athletic tape was the only sound for a moment.
"So?" Ryan asked, not looking up.
Ethan leaned against the locker next to his. "So, I'm an idiot with a clean slate where my summer should be. She said it's probably stress-induced amnesia, a defense mechanism, whatever that means. Told me to try and relax, that it'll come back."
Ryan finally looked at him, his expression more serious than usual. "You think you can just relax and it'll all come rushing back? You've always been intense. That's a part of what made you—" He stopped, his eyes flicking to the side as if he'd almost said too much. He shook his head and finished with, "—a great player."
A flicker of a memory, a flash of something in the back of his mind, teased Ethan. A sound, not a word. A sharp, cracking sound, like glass on asphalt. It was gone as quickly as it came.
"Right," Ethan said, pushing the fleeting image away. He looked at Ryan. "What made me? Tell me."
Ryan didn't answer. He just handed Ethan a mouth guard. "Come on, spade. Coach is waiting. Show me what you've still got."
They walked out of the school and toward the football field, the bright afternoon sun glinting off the metal bleachers. As they got closer, Ethan felt a different kind of fog lift. The smell of freshly cut turf and old leather, the distant thud of pads hitting pads, the crisp snap of a football in the air—it was all familiar. It felt like coming home.
He pulled on his helmet, the solid weight of it, a reassuring presence. On the field, he became a different person. The confusion and frustration from the day faded away, replaced by an instinctual rhythm. His body moved with a grace and power he didn't feel he owned anymore. He wasn't thinking about the plays; he was just doing them. His mind was a blank slate, but his muscles remembered everything.
From the stands, the team's training was a spectacle. The stands weren't full, but a decent crowd of students had gathered, a mix of curious onlookers and devoted friends of the players. They were all in their own worlds, but their eyes were drawn to the field.
A few rows down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, were Lana and her best friend, Mira. Lana was wearing a soft, gray hoodie, a stark contrast to the bright sunshine. She held a book in her lap, but she wasn't reading. Her eyes were fixed on Ethan. She watched him move with a devastating familiarity. She saw the fluid way he dodged a tackle, the effortless grace in his throws. He was exactly how she remembered him; dark hair was slightly wavy, trimmed neatly at the sides but left longer on top, with a few strands falling across his forehead, softening the sharpness of his face. His eyes were what people noticed next—deep hazel, steady and unreadable, with just enough intensity to make anyone who met them look twice. His jawline was clean, his skin smooth, and there was something about the faint curve of his lips—halfway between serious and amused—that made him impossible to ignore, except for the tiny, confused frown that would appear between his brows after a particularly flawless play, as if he was shocked by his own skill.
"He looks exactly the same," Mira said, her voice low. Her tone was a mix of awe and annoyance.
Lana didn't say anything. She just reached up and began to twirl a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, a nervous habit that Mira knew all too well.
Mira's expression hardened. "Don't do that, Lana. You're going to give yourself a knot." She saw the way Lana's gaze lingered on Ethan and felt the familiar surge of protectiveness. She had been with Lana through it all—the phone calls, the hospital visits, the quiet weeks of silence. She had witnessed the silent, invisible scars that had been left behind. She felt an urgent need to protect Lana from a pain she wasn't sure her friend could survive again. The worst part was that Lana's face was an open book to Mira, and she could see the glimmer of old feelings in her eyes. It was both a mirror and a warning.
A sudden whistle blew on the field, and a crowd of players gathered for a huddle. Ethan stood at the center, and for a moment, he glanced up at the stands. His gaze scanned the faces, moving past people, until it landed on a solitary figure. He couldn't make out the features, but he saw a flash of blonde hair and a gray hoodie. It was her. The girl from class. The one who had shut him out, the one whom Ryan called his summer break girl though Ryan had an explanation to do. He felt a weird pull, an affection that defied logic, and a deep-seated ache to know why she looked away. He had to know. He was more determined than ever.
The next day, the cafeteria was a storm of noise and chaos. Trays clattered, chairs scraped across the floor, and the air was thick with the smell of pizza and teenage hormones. Ethan and Ryan navigated the crowd, their trays in hand.
"So, the guidance counselor gave me the syllabus for my classes," Ethan said, a frown on his face. "I have no idea where to even start. I missed half a semester's worth of notes."
"Relax, man. I've got your back. I'll let you copy my notes after class. Don't worry about it," Ryan said, ever the loyal friend.
Ethan gave a grateful nod, but his eyes were already scanning the room. He spotted them immediately. Lana and Mira sat at a table in a corner, their heads bent together, a quiet island in the sea of noise.
"I'll be right back," Ethan said, a sudden resolve in his voice.
"Whoa, where are you going?" Ryan asked, but Ethan was already walking away.
He walked up to their table, his heart thudding in his chest. "Hey," he said, his voice softer than he intended.
Lana's head shot up, her eyes wide with alarm. She instantly froze. Her hand went to her hair, twirling a strand as a barrier between her and the person she never wanted to see again. She had spent the last two months rebuilding the walls she had torn down for him. She felt the scars on her heart sting with a painful familiarity. She had to shut him out. She had to protect her heart from the pain of an inevitable repeat.
Mira, on the other hand, reacted with an immediate, icy hostility. "Can we help you with something?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ethan ignored her, his gaze locked on Lana. "Listen, I just... I wanted to ask if you could help me with your notes. Mrs. Smith said something about it yesterday, and I was wondering if you could give me a hand."
Lana simply shook her head once, a curt, final gesture. She didn't trust herself to speak.
"She said no," Mira snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Didn't you hear her? Leave us alone, Ethan."
"I... just don't understand," Ethan stammered, feeling a profound sense of confusion. "We have a class together. It's just notes."
"It's more than that, and you know it," Mira shot back, her voice low and furious. She gestured to the empty seat next to them. "Why don't you go sit with your friends? Your little fan club is over there."
Just then, Adrian Brooks walked by, a pizza slice on his tray and his confident smile in place. He was a new transfer, yet he had already claimed a spot at the top of the social food chain. Adrian was the kind of person you noticed without trying, with a confident posture and a charisma that seemed to radiate from him. But his charm was a mask, and his eyes, a chilly blue, not with admiration but with a quiet, simmering envy. Adrian paused, his eyes landing on Ethan with a calculating glint. He had seen the entire exchange from across the cafeteria.
"You seem to be bothering these ladies," Adrian said, his voice smooth and dripping with mock concern. "Maybe you should go. You're blocking the way."
Ethan turned to him, the pleasant expression on his face fading. "I'm just talking to my classmate."
Adrian's smile widened. "She doesn't seem to want to talk to you. You've always been a bit slow, haven't you, Fox?"
Ethan's hand clenched into a fist, but he let out a frustrated sigh. "You're right," he said, not to Adrian, but to Lana. He looked at her one last time, a silent plea in his hazel eyes, before walking away.
Ethan sat back down at his table with Ryan, the food on his tray forgotten. Ryan's expression was unreadable. "What did you say to them?" he asked quietly.
"I asked for notes," Ethan said, his voice laced with bitterness. "She shut me down. Her friend practically kicked me out. And that guy... what's his deal?"
Ryan just shrugged. "Adrian's a jerk. Don't worry about him. But Lana... man, she's a different story, don't you really remember the summer..."
The words hit Ethan like a physical blow. "Remember what?" he pleaded. "Just tell me! I can't keep living like this."
Ryan shook his head. "It's not my story to tell, man. You've got to figure it out for yourself. It's a mess. A really big mess."
Later that night, Ethan was in his room, staring at the empty screen of his laptop. He had tried to text Ryan, but the response was short and unhelpful. The silence in his room was a painful echo of the silence he had received from Lana. He felt a deep-seated ache, a feeling that had no name. It wasn't just a physical longing or a passing crush; it was a profound sense of missing something that he couldn't even recall.
He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his photos. Nothing from the summer. The last photo was from the end of May. The next was from mid-August. There was an entire season missing from his life.
He decided to try something else. He opened a music app and scrolled through his playlists. He found one titled "Summer '23." He pressed play, and a song he didn't recognize filled his room. He expected nothing, but as the chorus began, a sharp, stabbing feeling pierced his heart. A feeling of profound loss and sadness. A flicker of an image in his mind's eye: a blurry photo of a girl laughing, her head thrown back, a single blonde strand of hair catching the sun. The image was gone in a flash, but the pain remained.
He slammed his phone down. It wasn't just an amnesia. Something had happened that summer. Something terrible. And Lana, for some reason, wanted to make sure he never remembered. The thought made his confusion twist into a new feeling: a quiet, burning determination. He didn't care what he had to do. He wasn't going to let this go. Not now. He needed to find out what happened last summer. He needed to know. And somehow, he knew Lana was the key.