The Plan to Save the Boss in Reincarnation

**Chapter 2: Second Chance, First Move**

“Alice! Up! First day of school, don’t you dare be late!” Zhang Huifang’s voice sliced through my bedroom door, more effective than any alarm clock.

My eyes snapped open, focusing on the familiar-yet-strange crack pattern on the ceiling. *Three seconds.* That’s all my brain needed to reboot and confirm: *Yes. I’m back.* Some cosmic glitch, or maybe a bored deity hitting snooze, had dumped me, Alice, nineteen years into the past. Sixteen years old. First day of high school. *Do-over.*

I scrambled out of bed, yanking the curtains open. California summer morning sunlight, warm and insistent, flooded in, bathing me in a golden glow that screamed *alive*. It felt like pure, liquid hope.

*Day Four.* Day Four of this impossible second chance, and Day One of Operation: Save Jake Li. Today, I’d see him. Not the cold, still image under a white sheet that haunted the news feeds, but *him*. Breathing. Real. Sixteen-year-old Jake.

After he died… my world imploded. Food tasted like ash. Sleep was a battleground lost to nightmares. I withered away, a ghost haunting my own life. Two months of crippling insomnia later, I couldn’t function. Quit my job, packed a single suitcase, and became a rootless wanderer, trying to outrun the grief. The irony? The escape route ended in screeching metal and blinding headlights on the way back… and then, *bam*. Woke up here. Westfield. Land of palm trees and second chances.

—

The white sundress mocked me from the closet. I’d fought Zhang Huifang tooth and nail in the store. “*Over my dead body!*” I’d yelled. Now? I pulled it on without hesitation. The mirror reflected a girl with blunt-cut bangs, long dark hair, a face too pale and eyes too large in its delicate frame. Classic Zhang Huifang genetics – porcelain skin, heart-shaped face, dimples. Too bad my resting expression screamed “approach with caution.” Perpetual sunshine wasn’t my vibe.

I pushed my door open. Zhang Huifang was curled on the sofa, scrolling her phone, looking effortlessly chic in a cream knit dress, pearl earrings catching the light. Thirty-five, untouched by future heartbreaks, still the vibrant lounge singer chasing the next high note… or the next charming distraction. She glanced up, her perfectly arched brows lifting in theatrical surprise. “Well, well. Hell must’ve frozen over. Alice Zhang, wearing the ‘death before sundress’?”

I rolled my eyes hard, beelining for the bathroom. If there was an award for World’s Most Mismatched Mother-Daughter Duo, we’d win gold. Zhang Huifang was Westfield’s resident jazz siren – fiery, impulsive, a romantic who lived for the grand gesture and changed boyfriends like playlists. Me? I was the quiet observer, cataloging her parade of men, my belief in “love” buried under layers of cynicism. *Just lonely people playing pretend.* That was my mantra. Until Jake died… then I realized the terrifying truth: I was just as obsessive, just as incapable of settling. I just hid my crazy better. Way better.

—

Westfield High was a ten-minute walk. I grabbed a piece of toast, jammed it in my mouth, and bolted downstairs. Muscle memory, both old and new, guided my steps towards destiny.

Freshmen and their parents swarmed the front of the main building, buzzing around class lists posted near the entrance. I didn’t need to look. Target: Third floor. AP Prep Track. My grades had squeaked me in. Jake? He was this year’s valedictorian. No contest.

Familiar faces from another life passed me in the hallway. My hand twitched, a greeting dying on my lips. *They don’t know you yet.* Deep breath. Push open the classroom door. My gaze, laser-guided, zeroed in on the back corner by the window.

Sheer beige curtains fluttered in the morning breeze. There he was. Sixteen. Simple white tee. Dark hair cut short and neat. Utterly absorbed in a thick book. Amidst the chaotic, over-excited chatter of new freshmen, he was an island of quiet intensity. Head down, radiating a potent “stay away” vibe. A one-meter exclusion zone seemed to pulse around him.

Sunlight haloed his profile: the strong line of his forehead, the straight bridge of his nose, the firm set of his lips, the sharp angle of his jaw leading down to a distinctly masculine Adam’s apple. It was like looking at a sculpture carved by some perfectionist god.

I stood frozen in the doorway for a full minute. My finger traced his outline in the air. My throat tightened, but a smile fought its way onto my lips. *Oh god… He’s here. Alive. Warm.* Not a cold memory. Not a ghost.

Memory flash: *First time around, I got here early, snagged the seat next to his window spot. He walked in, zeroed in on it, and asked, polite but distant, “Is this seat taken?”*

This time, *I* made the move.

I sucked in a breath, shoved down the frantic drumming of my heart, and marched over. My voice aimed for casual but betrayed a slight tremor; my smile probably looked more like a grimace. “Hey. Is this seat… taken?”

He looked up.

Those *eyes*… Holy crap. Even in the bright morning light, they held depths like star-strewn oceans, pulling me under instantly. His gaze lingered on my face for a heartbeat, assessing. Then, a barely perceptible nod. He silently slid his open book – carefully – closer to himself, clearing the entire desk space.

His hands… long, slender fingers. The book had a crisp, dark green paper cover, corners sharp as knives.

*He nodded!* I wrestled down the insane urge to throw my arms around him. Slung my backpack onto the chair and sat down fast. Close enough to catch the clean, soapy scent of him.

“I’m Alice,” I said, aiming for breezy. “You?”

No response. He seemed utterly reabsorbed in… wait, was that *Introduction to Quantum Mechanics*?! Seriously?

Okay, silent treatment. Fine. I reached out, gently turned the book he was holding towards me, and flipped it to the title page. Neat handwriting in dark blue ink.

“Jake… Li?” My fingertip brushed the letters, my voice softening with a hitch I couldn’t control. I lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes – now back on me, slightly wary. I gave him my most genuine, determined smile. “Jake. It’s a really nice name.” *Jake. Jake.* The name I’d whispered a thousand times in the dark, finally spoken aloud.

My bold move clearly startled him. A slight frown creased his brow, quickly smoothed away. His expression reset to its default impassive setting. A curt “Yeah” was his only verbal response before his attention snapped back to the book.

The “conversation over” sign might as well have been neon.

*Expected.* I let out a quiet breath. Planet Jake had its own gravity well, impervious to the teenage chaos around it. First time around, even as neighbors, we’d been two silent satellites orbiting our own misery for months. I never even figured out *when* he started liking me… *No matter. This time, I have time. I have focus. I’ll chip away at that fortress.*

—

Nine o’clock sharp, Mr. Johnson, our homeroom teacher, ambled in. He scanned the room and pointed lazily. “You, you, you… and yeah, tall kid in the white tee by the window. Hit the storage room downstairs. Grab the boxes for the new English texts and workbooks.”

Jake closed his book (bookmark precisely placed), nodded, stood up. His eyes flicked to me.

*Got it.* I scooted my chair forward instantly, giving him space to pass.

Ten minutes crawled by. Boys started trickling back, arms laden with boxes. Jake’s seat remained stubbornly empty.

A cold dread coiled in my stomach. I stared at the classroom door, my knuckles white. *Wait… last time!* The storage room run! He’d come back looking rough, clothes rumpled, and then disappeared for over a week! I hadn’t known him then, hadn’t cared… *Stupid! How could I forget? What happened down there?*

The icy shadow of losing him before crashed over me. Any hint of Jake in trouble triggered instant, paralyzing fear. A wave of dizziness hit. I pressed my fingers hard against my temples.

*Need to find him.*

I shot up from my chair, ignoring curious glances, and practically ran out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

I skidded around the corner to the first-floor hallway… and there he was.

But the sight punched the air right out of my lungs.

The worst-case scenario had already unfolded.