Mrs. Archer Xavier (REWRITING)

Prologue

The One With A Confrontation

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A week, that's all I had left before my apparent inevitable leave for New York.

I know a significant amount of people would fight to be in my shoes to live in New York City and at the same time be financially stable. However, I simply could not bare to be stripped off my "roots". I say that in quotations because I was actually born in New York before moving to the Bay Area.

Even though I've spent the last few months preparing for this move, I still feel like there are things that I've forgotten to pack. I would say it's "like leaving something behind", but it's not "like". I am. The family I grew up with — aunt Margaret, cousin slash best friend slash basically sister Marianne, and our best friend, Aren.

I would also be leaving my favorite spots in the city, my place of solace — also known as my room, and people that I've grown accustomed to like and not to like. A lot of things are going to change in a snap of a finger. Well, a plane ride.

I'm not looking forward to that.

"You want me to hand yours in?"

I blink myself back to my worries at this very moment. "No, it's fine." I timidly replied, immediately feeling the side effects in my chest. My heart banged against my chest like a beating drum. Zachary Dela Rosa, a classmate of mine that I find very intimidating, was like a character pulled out from a romance novel. He was smart — too smart, skates, into sports, and he was the right amount of nice.

I pretend to scan my test again as he turned his in, and just as he walks back, I stand to turn my paper in. He grimaces at that, although I couldn't quite tell whether it was sincere or humorously. I wished he would not bring it up when I return to my seat, next to his, and just leave me be to drown in my crisis.

Of course, that would be completely unrealistic if I got what I wanted.

"Jia—Can I call you 'Jia'? I'll call you Jia." He wavers as soon as I stride back to our corner. I purse my lip and shrugged. He didn't seem to be interested with an actual answer anyway. His gaze trails me while I pass behind him and to my chair. "Jia,"

I sigh and gave him a five second worth eye contact before looking at anything but him. "How come you never talked to me?" he frowns and I would've said that 'I did not owe him anything' but he seemed genuinely upset about it. I shrug again, wishing the time would run faster. This was just awkward, really.

"For a whole year, for two consecutive classes, we sit next to each other but I barely know you and it's the last day of school."

I don't really have any counterargument aside from not having the obligation to befriend him. He tried talking to me. Almost everyday. But I worried too much about messing up about what to say and how to say it. To him it may not seem like I tried, but I did. I really did.

"Sorry." I manage to mumble out, hoping it was actually came out audible. His eyebrows crease in awe, shoulders dropping and his finger stopping from twirling around a pen. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I just—I just think it's too bad we didn't get close."

I open my mouth to speak but he continues to ramble on. "I could've tried harder."

Before I could vomit another 'sorry', the bell rings and people started flooding out. Zach gets swept by the tide or in other words his friends has proceeded to drag him out, cheering on about the escape from this hellhole called math class. I gather my things hurriedly because there was no way I'm staying in this room with Ms. Pine.

Aren grins at me with a mouthful of pizza. "That's disgusting, Aren." Marianne comments, shoving him playfully before running up to me. "Was it that bad?" She asks, and I knit my eyebrows in confusion. Honestly, I had already forgotten about my test. "No, no. The test was fine."

"Then what are you so stressed about?"

"I look stressed?"

"Uh? Um, no?" she obviously lies, looking down on the ground as she dragged me away by my arm. I groan. "Remember that boy in that class I told you about?"

"The skater boy—"

"Marianne!"

"Okay, sorry. Jeez. What about him?" She lowers her voice as we walked faster than Aren's pace. "Hey, hey! Wait up!" His voice fades in the background while I told Marianne about what happened today. It wasn't much but for someone like me, that was like a prom-posal level interaction.

"...I don't know what to say to him. I feel bad about it though." I mutter, arriving at our lockers. "Well, maybe you can make it up to him? Do you want to?" Her voice echoes in the almost empty hallway as she stuffed her locker things in her bag. "I thought about it, but it's not like I really have the time to. I'm leaving after graduation, remember? And who knows where he's going to go for college—"

"Woah, woah. Who said anything about chasing him to the college of his dreams...or wherever his going...?"

"Who's he? Who are we talking about?"

"Aren!" Marianne groans and he groans back in a tone that mocks hers. "Here, have a juice box." I place one into his palm and he shrugs. He leans against the opposing lockers as he sips in silence. Marianne pulls me in, almost as if she's trying to stuff my head in her locker.

"How about you come with us to Rachelle's party? I'm sure he's going to be there."

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a|n: This is a rewrite. It probably still have grammatical errors and such, but I just really didn't like where the previous writing was going. I feel like it had too much unnecessary angst — most likely because I was too stressed and overall drained writing it back then during the peak of COVID-19.

Also, I might've forgotten where I was going with the book. I think it would just be best trying to start the book over with minor to major changes, instead of completely abandoning the book. I debated whether I should just discontinue it, take it down, or this...so I'm going to try my best to see it through this time.

Please be patient with me :)

I hope you enjoy the book.

(Btw, that was the original cover)