The smell of freshly brewed coffee wakes me up the next morning. My eyes crack open to pale light streaming through my windows and the neon-red numbers on my clock informing that it's seven fifty-eight. I roll over, only to collide with a sleeping Priya. Her head turns face down on her pillow. We probably shouldn't have stayed up past two in the morning, especially on the night before the first day of school.

Nothing more haunting than retrospect.

The door flies open with a bang. I jump as Zoe strides into the room, dressed in a loose pale-purple t-shirt with boxy sleeves, pink and yellow tie-dye pants, and flower-covered crocs. I'm amazed that she has this much energy, considering that she probably went to bed last. Then again, that's Zoe.

"Get up, we're going to be late!" she exclaims. She takes a sip from the white mug in her hand. "And you don't want to miss out on this coffee."

"How much sleep did you get?" I ask with a yawn.

"An hour." She grins and takes a noisy sip of coffee.

Autumn groans, dragging herself upright like a zombie. "Ugh."

After several sleepovers, we've all learned not to mess with Autumn in the morning, not until she's had at least one piece of toast and started on her black tea.

Priya and Autumn disperse to get dressed while Zoe heads downstairs. I throw on a white, ribbed t-shirt, a jade-green button down, and a pair of sand-colored jeans. Sometimes, simple is best for a back to school look. Downstairs, Mom has a full breakfast buffet set up. Autumn is munching on buttered bread alongside scrambled eggs, while Zoe has opted for sausage, berries, and cheerios. I decide to have a little of everything... except the cheerios. It just screams "rushed, chaotic morning," and that is not my vibe today.

Priya twirls into the room a moment later in black dress covered in pink flowers. "It's our first day of our second year!"

"Grab your breakfast," Autumn says. "We need to leave, like, now."

A glance at my watch tells me it's eight-thirty, sending a wave of panic through me.

"Mom! Travel mugs?" I call out.

"Got you covered," she says, rushing into the dining area. "Gather your things. Priya, I already packed up some toast, berries, and yogurt for you."

"Thank you!" she gushes. We all make a mad dash around the kitchen, dining room, and living room. Somehow, we're all piled into my mom's gray sedan by eight forty-one. I'm on the edge of my seat during the ten minute car ride. Zoe and Autumn chat the whole time about the classes they're taking. Priya quietly manages a winged liner and pink eye shadow, finishing her look with a pale lip gloss.

I finish my coffee by the time we arrive at school. Energy starts to flood my veins, and I sprint all the way to my first class. Fortunately, it's not far from the entrance. At the front of the room, a giant slide covers a third of the whiteboard-wall, projecting the words ''Welcome to AP European History." For the hundredth time, I wonder what I've gotten myself into.

A year's worth of pain, tears, and delicious pastries, I suppose.

I squeeze my way between the faux-marble desks that line the freshly-pressed green carpet, scouring my peers for a familiar face. Of course, I recognize some students from last year, but I don't know them well enough to plop into a seat beside them and start a conversation.

Finally, my eyes land on Graysen in the second-to-front row. The seat beside her is empty, so I hurry to fill it. Brooklyn, who's sitting behind Graysen with her thumbs flying across her phone, glances at me from the corner of her eye as my backpack thumps on the floor. Who knew empty binders could be so heavy? I cringe at what it will be like a month from now.

Brooklyn's thumbs pause on her screen for a second. Then, they resume, eyes glued to the light emanating from her sleek, checkerboard case.

"Hey!" I exclaim, out of breath.

"Hey! How was summer?" Graysen asks.

"Not long enough."

Grayson chuckles. "That's fair." She leans back in her chair, stretching her long legs so her white converse are under the empty desk in front of her.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a notebook and two markers, one indigo, one peach. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Grayson staring at me as she twirls a strand of ash-blonde hair around her finger.

"It's so funny how you use markers to take notes. I could never. Doesn't it bleed all over the place?"

Blood.

I force a smile. "I like colorful notes."

"I can even understand felt-tipped pens. But those are legit markers."

Though Brooklyn keeps her head down and her thumbs moving, her eyes seem to stray from her phone, aimed in my direction. My fingers flick the cap off the indigo marker, revealing a sloped tip atop a wide base, kind of like a slightly-melted hershey's kiss. I feel almost as self-conscious as the day when I first started using markers in class. And no, I'm not referring to Kindergarten.

"It's a pretty fine point."

Graysen shrugs, turning her attention to Benny as he slides into the desk in front of her. "How was summer?"

"Talked to some recruiters." Benny grins, showing off his perfect teeth. He's sporting a Dartmouth t-shirt, and the blue color stands out against his dark skin. "Otherwise, it was pretty average."

The bell rings, cutting off Grayson's flirting. It's no secret that she cheers loudest for him at football games.

Classes flash by in thirty-minute blurs. My core classes are in the morning: AP Euro, Chemistry, English, and Algebra Two. Afterward, I have gym with Zoe, right before lunch. In the afternoon, I get to take my one elective credit, which is Theatre Appreciation, and attend two hours of classes that develop my special ability. It's more work than most high schools as I'm basically mastering normal school stuff and special ability stuff, but it's par for the course. Mom thinks that if I have a special ability, I should develop it so that it can do good in the world.

When I enter the lunchroom, probably the only day that I won't be a sweaty mess, it's mostly empty. I snag a table near the lunchline and wait for Zoe to join me from the bathroom.

Students start to flood the room, polluting it with noise and cramped spaces. Zoe manages to beat the crowd and finds me while balancing a lunch tray in either hand.

"One for you," she says, setting down a platter of a mini quiche, garden salad, and fruit cup.

"And one for me."

"Aw, thanks!" I exclaim. "But you didn't have to get mine for me."

"Oh, yes I did," Zoe laughs, sliding onto the bench beside me. "The line was getting packed. Besides, you needed to stay here and guard our table."

The four of us were kind of a nomadic friend group our fall semester last year, snagging whatever space we could find since all the tables had already been "claimed" the first day. It was a little better in the spring, but we decided that this year, we'd stake out our spot first thing.

"Hey, hey!" a voice exclaims. I glance up to see Priya, Graysen, and Hailey sit across from us. I feel a little more self-conscious now, since Graysen and Hailey are more Priya's friends than mine.

"Mind if they sit here?" Priya asks, though her voice is barely audible over the din. Her large, almost-black eyes flick across the table, between us and her friends from cheer practice.

"Of course not!" Zoe says. "What's up?"

A smile cracks through the fragments of worry straining Priya's face, and her tense shoulders relax. Lunch ends up being less awkward as I anticipated. I even strike up a conversation with Hailey. It turns out that she has microscopic vision, just like my mom, and is interested and wants to join law enforcement when she graduates. Of course, she doesn't know about my mom's former career. To Hailey, my mom is just the local hairdresser who gets every local girl's hair spiffed up for Homecoming.

Autumn's tray crashes onto the end of the table. My gaze jolts in her direction.

"Where have you been? Lunch is halfway gone," Zoe says.

"Sorry," Autumn pants. She plops onto the bench, her chest sagging with ragged breaths. "Sorry, I had to stay late to check out some chemicals for AP Chem."

"Your teacher lets you take chemicals home?" Zoe asks.

"Yours doesn't?" She takes several mouthfuls of quiche in quick succession, and crumbs fall onto her baggy Beatles t-shirt. Her eyes flit around the lunchroom before landing back on us. "Good going with this seat."

"You have Madelyn to thank," Zoe says. "She snagged it for us."

Autumn chews another mouthful, then swallows. "Did you ever finish the questionnaire?"

"What questionnaire?" Graysen asks.

"Oh, yeah," I mumble over spinach, mushrooms, and egg.

"Oh, yeah, as in you forgot?" Autumn's down-turned eyes narrow.

"As in, 'yes, I finished.'"

"What did you finish?" Graysen leans forward, her voice borderline conspiratorial.

"I dared her to sign up for SoulDate." Autumn sets her fork down and leans back, grinning. "She has to go on a date with every person the app says is a match."

"Wait, what?" I cry. A burn ignites in my cheeks. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Sure it was."

"Oh my gosh, this is epic!" Graysen exclaims. "Madelyn's going to have a boyfriend!"

"Or a series of unfortunate blind dates," Zoe giggles.

"I thought it was one," I say. "One blind date."

"You have to do at least four," Autumn says. "Otherwise, it's no fun."

"You've got to be kidding!" Graysen laughs. "Four dates? This is absolutely epic!" She whips out her jewel-encrusted phone case. "I have to tell Adrian and Laurel. They will absolutely flip!"

My eyes lock with Priya. She grimaces and shrugs, mouthing the word 'sorry.' At least someone shares my discomfort.

Students from the other tables start to migrate to the trash cans. Half-eaten quiches, vegetables, and fruits slide into large black bags, and barely-drunk bottles drum on top. I glance at my phone, noting that it's ten minutes until the start of class. Relief trickles through me.

"We should start wrapping up lunch," I say. "I have to get all the way across the school to Theatre Appreciation."

"I just can't believe it!" Graysen mutters, still engrossed in her phone. "You're like, the third I've ever heard of from our grade."

"Who are the others?" Zoe asks.

Graysen tsks. "Uh-uh, I'm not spilling. I want Madelyn to go into her date completely blind."

"Graysen!" Hailey laughs. "It's like this is the juiciest thing you've ever heard."

"Oh, come one," Graysen says, lifting her tray from the table. "Nothing eventful ever happens at this high school."

Zoe sighs. "True. Though I guess it comes with the territory of private school."

I swing my legs over the bench and hurry into the crowd, trying to escape my embarrassment. Students push and shove, nudge me this way and that, as they try to clean up as quickly as possible. My foot catches on the ground, and I stumble forward into the boy standing in front of me.

Time slows. My tray hits the back of his flannel shirt, and he falls to the ground.

The din in the room fades to a wash of barely-audible noise. All I can hear is the rush in my ears; all I see is a boy lying face down on the ground.

My vision tunnels. He's just lying there. He's on the ground. My tray pushed him to the ground.

Is he dead?

The events flash through my head, blurring the fluorescent lights in the room with those in my mind's eye. I'm pushing him to the ground, no, whacking him to the ground with a swift blow to his neck. My plastic lunch tray cuts into my hands, and I drop it, hearing a distant clatter, feel a vague splatter on my bare arms.

Is that his blood?

"Madelyn?" A hand finds my arm.

Slowly, I blink my way back to the present. Noise replaces the eerie hush that fell over my ears, and students filter around me on route to the trash cans. My eyes focus on the dark-brown hand, then on the round, concerned eyes of Kayla Douglas. She's one of four people in my special abilities class, though I haven't talked with her much.

"Are you okay?" she asks. The gentleness in her eyes, her voice, grounds me in the moment.

You are safe. Nothing happened. I take deep breaths, but my heart still pounds in my chest, and blood pulses in my temples.

"I-I..." I swallow, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to prevent myself from tripping over the words running through my head. "I-I'm f-fine."

"Do you need to go to the nurse?" Kayla asks.

I shake my head, my vision settling beyond her black-and-burghandy dreadlocks.

The boy, Isaac McPheller, is no longer on the floor, though his cheeks are so red, I can barely see his freckles.

"I'm good," he says as one of his buddies hits his shoulders.

"I-I'm sorry," I choke out. Tears threaten to spill down my face, but I bite the inside of my lip hard to prevent it.

"It's all good. I was just being clumsy." Isaac crouches down to clean the food that spilled from his tray onto the floor. My knees sink down until I feel them hit the hard tile, and I reach for the loose cherry tomatoes rolling about.

Someone could slip on those. Were they from my tray, or his? I thought I finished all my food, but maybe not. I certainly didn't finish all my Kombucha, and now, because I forgot to screw the lid back on, a fizzing puddle sits on the ground, waiting for someone to slip and fall.

That's my fault. This is all my fault. I have to clean up, I have to—

"I'll clean up here," Isaac says over the din. "It's fine. Really, I'm not hurt."

"I—"

"Madelyn, are you okay?" Zoe is at my side, her arm around my shoulders.

"I-I think so?"

"Just go on to class," Isaac says.

"Yeah." Zoe tugs on me, pulling me upright. "Are you hurt? Did you fall? I just heard this loud clatter..."

"No, I'm fine!" I shrug her arms away, but the world is spinning. "I'm fine. I'm—"

The fluorescent lights go black.