Jay Pritchett didn't consider himself a suspicious man.
He was practical. Veteran. A reader of people. Years in the closet business, raising kids and grandkids, teaching Manny how not to get mugged at the bus stop—he'd seen enough weirdos to trust his gut.
So when he saw the new kid—quiet, black-jacketed, always walking alone—cut across his neighborhood for the third time that week, Jay did what any retired man with a lawn, a dog, and too much time would do.
He watched.
From behind a newspaper, of course.
"Who's that?" he asked aloud, though Stella just snorted and went back to chewing her toy.
It was 3:27 PM. He remembered because the game hadn't started yet and the yard had just been mowed. He liked quiet moments—he earned them. But this kid? He wasn't just walking.
He meandered.
Hands in his coat pockets, head slightly tilted like he was listening to the wind. Not in a daze—more like… thinking. Processing. Like someone who knew the world too well to rush through it.
Jay set the newspaper down and squinted.
There was something in the kid's posture. Not slouched like most teenagers. Not stiff either. Relaxed but purposeful. Measured. Like a man walking back from war.
Jay didn't say anything the first time.
Or the second.
But the third? He called out.
"Hey!"
The boy paused and turned slowly, not startled. Just… calm. Which annoyed Jay a little.
"You new around here?"
The boy nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Sir?" Jay arched an eyebrow. "You trying to sell me something, or were your parents just raised right?"
The corner of the kid's mouth twitched—almost a smile. "Maybe both."
Jay stood up and walked closer, arms folded. Stella trailed behind, curious now too.
"You got a name?"
"Elliot."
"Elliot what?"
"Stillwater."
Jay studied him. "Huh. Sounds like a lake. You in school?"
"Yes. I go to the same high school as your granddaughter."
That made Jay pause. "Alex?"
Elliot nodded.
Jay narrowed his eyes. "You friends with her?"
A beat.
"Not exactly. We talk."
That set something off in Jay's instincts. The last time a boy who "just talked" to Alex ended up texting her three hundred times a week and writing a poem about mitochondria.
"What kind of talking?"
"Philosophy. Death. Silence. Time."
Jay blinked. "What, no sports?"
Elliot smiled faintly. "I prefer to watch people. They're more honest when they think no one sees them."
Jay stared at him.
This was not a teenager.
At least not in any way he recognized.
"You always talk like that?"
"Only when people ask."
Jay nodded slowly, rubbing his chin.
"Walk with me," he said.
They started down the sidewalk, Stella trotting ahead. Jay didn't talk at first. He let the silence settle.
Elliot didn't seem bothered by it. In fact, he matched Jay's pace like they'd done this before.
"You remind me of someone I knew in the army," Jay finally said. "Name was Wilkins. Real quiet guy. Didn't say much, but when he did, we listened. Everyone called him 'Old Man' even though he was twenty-five."
Elliot looked ahead. "Some people just get there faster."
"Get where?"
"To the part where everything feels like déjà vu."
Jay's brow furrowed. "That supposed to mean something?"
Elliot didn't answer directly. "I think some souls are born already tired. Like they've lived twice before they even graduate."
Jay gave him a sidelong glance. "You one of those?"
Elliot didn't nod, didn't speak.
He just looked out toward the street with an expression far older than the seventeen-year-old face it sat on.
Jay felt it then—that strange gut feeling again.
It wasn't anything bad. Just... unfamiliar. Off-pattern.
The kid wasn't dangerous.
But he wasn't normal either.
Jay sighed. "You smoke weed?"
Elliot gave a short laugh. "No. But thanks for asking."
Jay nodded. "Good. Stay away from it. And from anyone who wants to 'just talk' about time and death with my granddaughter."
That earned him the first real smile. "Understood."
They walked a little more.
Then Jay stopped at his gate and opened it.
"You planning to keep wandering through here?"
"I like quiet neighborhoods," Elliot said. "They feel honest."
Jay studied him one last time. "Yeah. Well. You keep being honest, and I won't sic the dog on you."
Stella yawned.
Elliot nodded. "Fair trade."
Jay turned to go, then paused. "One more thing."
Elliot stopped.
"You might fool the kids, even the teachers," Jay said. "But not me. You walk like someone who's already buried a few things."
Elliot met his eyes. "I have."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked on.
Jay stood at the gate a long time after.
Eventually, Gloria called out asking where the lemon water was and whether Stella had peed.
Jay just muttered, "Kid's got a ghost in him," and went back inside.
But he kept watching.
Not because he distrusted Elliot.
But because when you're old enough, you can spot someone else who's seen the edge.
And that boy?
He wasn't just standing near it.
He remembered falling.