An early Tuesday morning isn't fun for any high schooler unless they're Victoria Jones.

Well, specifically Victoria Jones on September 3rd, 2024. Why, you ask? Because it's the first day of her senior year, of course.

Some people (bores and losers, if you ask her) don't care much for the shenanigans of the first day of school. With their face firmly in their pillow, they blindly claw at their blaring alarm, cracking one blurry eye open to make sure they hit the right spot on their phone screens, and collapse back into sweet, sweet sleep. Rinse and repeat until one of their parents inevitably yells at them about being late for school, after which they scramble to brush their teeth, put on clothes that they swore they washed last night, and rush out the door swapping the rich breakfast of toast, eggs, and pancakes their mom prepared for an apple and a kiss on her cheek.

Not Victoria Jones.

No, she is up exactly five minutes before her alarm even rings, deactivating it in favour of the morning playlist she meticulously curated the night before. Pulling back the curtains and opening her window to the warm—albeit very humid—late summer Toronto air, she soaks the rays in with Dua Lipa's 'Dance The Night' blaring from her speakers. Sure, the song is, like, so last year, but she'll gladly sacrifice her fashion-forward music taste for not listening to the new country rap shit that's topping the charts right now. Ew.

After performing the obligatory choreographed dance routine in her shower (and not even slipping, might she add) she skips to her walk-in closet and dresses in her new pink short-sleeved off-shoulder top and a denim skirt.

Then, like a bee hopping from one flower to the next, she plops down before her vanity. And she is a bee—the Queen Bee, that is—as demonstrated by the constant buzzing of her phone; Instagram and TikTok alerts, DMs wishing her well in school, her cheer team group chat setting practice dates, friends trying to make plans, what have you. She ignores them all for the one message she looks forward to each morning, the customary "Morning, Sunshine" from her boyfriend. They've been together for almost a whole year now, but she still gets the butterflies every time she thinks of him.

And who would blame her? With his hazel eyes, well-contoured athlete's body, a smile that lights up the night, and a jawline that can cut glass, Cameron Hansley is every girl's dream. All that is what he seems, but it's what he is that made Victoria fall in love with him. As for what that is exactly, she's not even sure, but she knows she loves him.

After sending him her daily "Morning, Moonbeam" response, she FaceTimes Sara Richardson, setting the phone against her mirror and starting her skincare routine.

"Whattup whattup," her best friend's voice sounds, "Damn, how are you dressed already?"

"How are you not?" Victoria retorts as she dabs her eye cream on.

Sara blows an exasperated huff of air out of her mouth, making two strands of her warm brown curls flutter. "I don't know what to wear."

Blending in her tinted moisturizer, Victoria says, "Show me."

Sara puts on a cerulean halter top with baggy jeans, studying herself in the mirror before showing Torri. "I was thinking something like this, but it's fucking boiling outside."

Her best friend flicks the end of her eyeliner like a pro before looking her over. "Cute. I say keep the top, wear shorts."

"And have Chopra call me 'Legs' the whole year again?"

"He'll call you 'Legs' anyways." Victoria squeezes pink lip gloss and smacks her lips with a pop. "The Leafs will win the Stanley before that stops."

Sara can't help but laugh at that as she changes into her shorts. The truth of their city's hockey team is cruel, but true it is nonetheless. That's how her mother would write in her column when they lose again, at least. Her dad would probably chug a Steam Whistle and say "Eh, bud, it's not that bad, we'll get 'em next time."

'Next time' hasn't come since '67 but, okay, Dad.

Sometimes Sara can't believe her parents are what they are—her straight-laced mother a sports journalist with her own publication and her carefree father one of the best civil attorneys in the province. But peoples' faces when Robert Richardson Esquire busts out a dad joke are always worth it, even if she cringes at them hard enough to develop arthritis.

He tells one later that morning when Torri stops by on her way to school. He bids his time, too, waiting for Sara to shove the last of her scrambled egg toast in her mouth so she wouldn't interrupt him.

"Well, girls, you have a great day," he says, "Just don't let anyone egg you on to do something I wouldn't do."

She almost spits out the orange juice she'd been downing her breakfast with. He only laughs, of course, and her mother shakes her head at him—albeit with a mirthful smile. When she and Torri head out the door and down a bustling Toronto sidewalk, she catches her best friend's laugh.

"What?" She snaps at her.

"Your dad is super adorable," Torri says, "I wish mine made jokes like that. I didn't even see him earlier."

Before Sara could ask why, Torri's phone beeps with a text. Checking it, she stops in her tracks. At 5'10, Sara is a whole ten inches taller than Torri, so it's easy to miss when her fun-sized bestie lags behind. This time, however, she was paying attention and stops with her.

"Ughhhhh." Torri rolls her eyes. "Seriously? Does he read my mind or something?"

"Who?" Sara moves to peek at Torri's screen. Unneeded, as she shows it to her.

"Sorry I missed breakfast, Sweetheart, work came a-calling. I left some lemonade for you on the counter. Hope it zestifies your day!🍋😂"

Sara snorts. "You were saying?"

"Shut up. What does 'zestify' even mean?"

"To infuse with zest?"

Torri rolls her eyes as she starts walking again. "Whatever. What we're not gonna do is let some bad dad jokes ruin our morning."

"Our first day of senior year morning." Sara catches up in no more than two strides. "Ready to give 'em a year they'll never forget?"

"I was born ready."

As they walk, they collect a gaggle of fellow Northride High Grade 12 students. By the time they reach their school, Victoria and Sara are being orbited by—safe to say—half their class. Though Torri Jones is the Queen Bee, Sara isn't far behind, if not on the same level as her, in terms of popularity. Unlike Victoria, however, she is single and thus attracts a lot of male attention which she isn't always in the mood for. Like today, for example. Luckily, her salvation comes in the form of the Hockey team's captain, her best friend's boyfriend, the man, the myth, the legend.

"'Scuse me," he announces as the crowd parts for him, "Estranged lover, coming through."

When he catches sight of his girlfriend, gorgeous as always, he holds her gaze until he plants his lips firmly on hers, resting his palms on her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck. Kissing her feels like winning the League championship every goddamn time. It might even feel better.

"Hi." He smiles and pecks her.

"Hi." She giggles. "You're hardly estranged, Handsome."

"Twelve hours without you? I'd say I'm pretty fucking estranged."

He straightens as they pull apart. Though Torri went on her tiptoes, he still had to lean a fair bit forward to accommodate her tiny stature. Not that he's complaining, he'd do anything for her, and he kinda liked how small she was.

"Hey, Sara." He gives the girl in question a one-armed hug, taking the opportunity to pull her away from the douchebags she's clearly uninterested in. She's Torri's best friend, true, but she's his friend too, and he'd sooner spend the whole hockey season in Mrs. Hick's detention than leave her to the wolves.

Okay, maybe not the whole season, but you get the picture.

As they back away—knowing better than to challenge Cameron Fucking Hansley—a wild skateboarding, Nollie-kickflipping, gasp-inducing teenager breaks up their circle as he sticks the landing.

"'Sup," he says as he rolls to a stop.

"Jesus, Kiran!" Victoria shrieks, "You could've murdered us! And yourself!"

"Nah. I'm a pro, dude. You should know that by now."

To demonstrate, he steps on his board with one foot, flips it around in the air, and grabs it by the wheels.

"Come on, man," Cameron says, "She's right, we don't want Coach Miles benching you."

Knowing his best friend well, Kiran rolls his eyes in feigned exasperation. "Fine. Sorry."

"Good," Torri says.

"Bring it in." Cam daps him up and, when their shoulders touch, he whispers, "That was fucking gnarly, dude."

"You fucking know it," Kiran murmurs as he pulls away, a wide smile stretching on his dark-featured face. Flipping his black hair out of his eyes, he looks at Sara and smiles.

"How's it goin', Legs?" He coos.

She rolls her eyes. "Out of pure curiosity, why do you call me that?"

Kiran shrugs at the limbs in question. "You have long legs."

"We're the same height."

"And?"

She shakes her head. "Whatever."

"Guys," Victoria says as Cameron hooks his arm around her neck, "Stop for a second. Just... look."

She brings her eyes to the building in front of them where Northride Canada College reads above the entrance. Their eyes follow hers. Why some private high schools call themselves colleges is a mystery to everyone.

"What am I looking at?" Kiran asks.

"This is the last time we see this building on the first day of school," Torri says, "We made it, guys."

"Not yet," says Cameron, "We still have a championship to win."

"We'll win it, dude!" Comes a shout from an approaching group of guys—Cam and Kiran's teammates. "It's in the fuckin' bag."

They dap each other up as Cameron mutters something about not jinxing it, which Kiran mocks.

"You're right, though," Sara tells Torri. "We're finally here."

"Hell yeah, we are!" Their cheer team approaches them as the first bell rings. "Let's go fuck shit up!"

Said "fucking shit up" will have to wait until at least the lunch break; before that come classes. During the first—AP English Literature—Victoria Jones meets this year's biggest challenge, though she doesn't know it yet.

"Alright, settle down, everyone," Ms. Jackson (yes, like the song) bellows over the chaos of hyped-up teenagers. They're a relatively good bunch and do as she asks only two times after she repeats herself.

"That's it," she says, fixing the low bun holding her braided hair, "Good to have you all back. I know the first day is exciting, but you need to focus, especially those of you in Grade 12. Universities will look carefully at your performance this year and the higher of a note you start on, the easier it will be to maintain your momentum. After all, 'The secret of getting ahead—'"

"'Is getting started,'" a droning chorus finishes her favourite Mark Twain quote. She smiles.

"There you go. A little more enthusiasm next time, eh?"

Eyerolls and groans come from most of the class, bringing her a chuckle. She was a student herself not too long ago (only three years out of Teachers' College) and she knew all too well how they felt.

"Now," she continues, "Before I give out your schedules and act surprised and disappointed in the summer reading you didn't do, how about an icebreaker?"

The dreaded word sent more groans her way, but she ignored them.

"We'll go around and introduce ourselves for our new students' benefit, then say one fun fact about you and something interesting you did over the summer. I'll go first. My name is Catherine Jackson." She gestures to her name written on the whiteboard. "One fun fact about me is that I have a very high spice tolerance, and an interesting thing I did over the summer was eat two whole Carolina Reaper peppers back to back. Can't say I enjoyed that, but it's something interesting, nonetheless. Mr. Hansley, why don't you go next and we'll continue from there."

"Uh..." Cameron blinks. He and everyone else are stuck digesting the Carolina Reaper bit for a few seconds but recover fairly quickly. "Uh, yeah, sure. I'm Cameron Hansley. A fun fact about me... I guess I like hockey?"

Kiran's snort earns him a glare from his best friend. Not his fault he decided to act like everyone in this room doesn't know that. Idiot.

"And something interesting I did this summer..." His eyes go to his girlfriend beside him who kicks him under the table and blushes. Snickers and a whistle sound from somewhere in the class.

"Okay, stop it," Ms, Jackson admonishes. "Cameron, go on. Keep it PG for both our sakes."

"All I was gonna say was that I met Wayne Gretzky." He shrugs, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Well, that's good for you." Catherine Jackson doesn't buy that he wasn't being sleazy for a second, but she knows to pick her battles. Thus, she moves on to Victoria. "Go ahead."

Victoria rolls her eyes at her boyfriend—not his finest moment, that—and clears her throat.

"I'm Victoria Jones, I collect a cookie recipe from every new place I visit, and this summer I landed a Double Axel for the first time."

After praises and claps (and an explanation of what Double Axels are for those not versed in complex figure skating spins) Ms. Jackson moved down the line. Sara talked about her trip to Thailand, while Kiran gushed about his skateboarding skills. Eventually, the turn passes to a new Grade 12 student with long straight black hair bound in a half-updo.

"Um..." She looks down at her desk, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and blushing. "My— my name is Ivory—"

"Speak up, hun," Ms. Jackson says. "I don't think they can hear you from back there."

"My name is Ivory Finch," she says—barely any louder. "I... um... I read War and Peace this summer."

A few huffs and snickers roll around the class, which turn the girl's face an even darker shade of red. After quieting them down, Ms. Jackson says, "And your fun fact?"

"Um..." She fiddles with the edge of her cream shirt. "I like to write... I'd like to be an author someday."

"Of course," Kiran mutters from the seat in front of Cameron.

"What's your problem?" Torri Hisses. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No," he says as he shrugs one shoulder. "Just predictable. I mean, look at her."

"Jackass," Sara mutters from beside him.

"Hey! What'd I do? Just statin' the obvious."

"Dude," Cam says. "Seriously. Not cool." When his friend gives him a knowing smirk, he doesn't reciprocate.

"Whatever." Kiran rolls his eyes. "If you're gonna be so up in arms about some new girl—"

"Hey, quiet over there!" Ms. Jackson hollers their way. "You'll talk after class. Now, since introductions are over with, let's get you our lesson plan, yeah?"

When the bell rings, Torri has no chance to welcome Ivory personally like she wants. Being bombarded with everyone trying to get in your good graces had its downs, some even a six-foot-tall bodyguard of a boyfriend couldn't alleviate. Even lunchtime doesn't relent. Such is the burden of being Miss Popular.

By Third Period, Torri is determined to catch a minute of Ivory's time before she goes home. The girl is clearly very shy, a prime target for teasing, and she'll be damned if she lets anyone bully a sweet girl like that when she's Queen Bee. If they knew she was taking her under her wing, they wouldn't dare.

Well, her wishes come true, although not in the way she'd hoped. After Third Period, she and Sara leave for Drama Class when they hear a commotion. Turning around, they see Cameron down the hall, squatting and gathering scattered books across the floor with a girl—Ivory.

Something in Victoria's blood boils at the sight. The way that girl blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she shrugs her shoulders when Cam flashes her his smile—the smile that was supposed to be reserved for her.

Oh, no. And she wanted to be nice to this girl? As she steals her boyfriend right out from under her—?

"What?" Torri snaps.

"What?" Sara snaps in turn.

"Did you hear that?"

"Uh... no?"

Victoria blinks, shaking her head and refocusing on the shameless pantomime in front of her. "Never mind."

"Tor..." Sara follows her friend's gaze to her boyfriend before looking back at her. "Are you good?"

"I'm great." Victoria's voice drips with venom potent enough to taste. "I'll be even better when I end her."

"What?"

Without saying another word, she puffs out her chest and sashays in their direction.

☆★☆★→ ←☆★☆★

2K words done in the first chapter. Isn't that something. 

How are we feeling, gang? I don't know how I feel about this one but I aim to edit all of my ONC entries extensively so I'm not too pressed.

I do wonder what that voice Victoria heard is...

WC: 2,857