I am shocked.

"Did he just--" Val watches the front doors in abject horror like she's waiting for the guy to come back.

"He did," I say, feeling something shrivel up inside me.

I march towards the doors, prompting Val and Ben to hurry after me. We wrestle our way through the groups of people still gathered in the vestibule--did you see that guy oh my god he was so hot--and start down the main hallway towards the different academic wings.

"Are we sure that's the same guy?" Ben asks. "I mean, he wasn't wearing a leather jacket."

I spin around as we reach the intersection of the academic wings, where two staircases separate the four hallways before the media center. "It was him, Ben. It was the same guy who I ran into at the mall, the same guy who we saw at the diner, and apparently the same guy that's taking Marco's spot as quarterback."

He's also the same guy you flirted with, several times, on two separate occasions--I tell myself to shut up.

I take a deep breath, turning back on my heel slowly. "This is fine."

"Fine?" Val asks as we head up the staircase to our right. "I mean, of course it's fine."

"It's fine."

"It is?" Ben asks.

"Yes," Val and I say in unison.

We reach the landing at the top, emerging into the social studies, aka senior, wing. My footsteps pierce the conversations of the chattering groups nearby as we head to my locker down the hall. Once we reach it, I slump against it and sink to the ground. Val and Ben sit down before me, varying degrees of concern on their faces.

And that's when I realize that they think I'm upset. That is, they think I'm sad about what just happened outside. I understand why they might think that, but the fact of the matter is that I am irrevocably, entirely enraged.

Who does that guy think he is? He saw me, I know he saw me, and he had the audacity to walk past me as if we'd never even met? Maybe I'm the crazy one, expecting him to say something, anything, by way of greeting, but there's just something about his attitude that reminds me too much of Levi's. Cocky, arrogant, haughty, as if the world were his stage.

Val's phone vibrates and she pulls out, reading the notification. "Our mystery guy's name is Grant Hughes."

My expression goes sour. Of course, he has a cool guy name.

Ben makes a face as Val tucks her phone away. "Who told you that? Who tells you all of these things?"

"I have my sources," Val sings as she sits up straight. She looks to me, gauging my expression. "Willa?"

I blink, snapping myself out of my spiteful thoughts. "Yes?"

Val bites her lip. "Are you okay?"

I take a deep breath, getting to my feet. Val and Ben follow suit, and I wonder when this power dynamic shifted. When it was me leading my friends rather than me following one of them. Is it a result of this confident plan, or has it always somehow been there?

Regardless, I exhale slowly, twirling the combination into my locker and swinging it open. I begin storing my stuff for the second half of my day. "The fact of the matter is that I am no longer going to act like some spurned dog when a guy treats me as less than I am."

The words are easy to say, easy to think, but somehow, they're hard to believe. But if I'm going to do this, my friends can't know that.

I slam my locker shut, spinning around to face my friends. Val and Ben are watching me nearly akin to how we all watched Grant roll up to the curb. Like they can't believe their eyes.

Ben opens his mouth to say something, but his voice is not what comes out.

"Well, if it isn't Willa Murdock."

My body goes stiff as I turn to find Melina Sanchez sashaying to a stop a few feet away from me. Donning the latest fashions in Popular Girl Chic, she's ever the poised and put together ruler of the school, the colors setting off her tan complexion and dark features.

What strikes me, though, is that she's alone, which is unusual for West High's queen bee. Marco must be off with the football guys, which thankfully includes Levi. Nadia, Melina's right hand woman, is also nowhere to be seen. However, despite being alone, everyone in the near vicinity seems to become aware of her presence. Some look at her, some look at me, but most veer around her, giving her a wide berth.

Melina fixes her dark eyes on me, dark, dark, dark as neutron stars. "A little birdie told me you were at Nadia's party."

"I was," I say, my voice steady. "So was the entire population of a small country."

A feather of a muscle twitches in Melina's jaw and I wonder what she's so upset about. I know Melina can be temperamental--trust me, first hand experience--but if this is about what happened with Levi, I just don't understand.

"You think you're so smart," she says, shaking her head slowly. She wrinkles her nose in what I think is supposed to be the most sarcastic expression known to man. "So I trust you won't need me to explain when I saw this: stay away from Levi."

I don't know where the confidence comes from--some spring deep inside me, I don't know--but the most cheerful look spreads across my face as I put my hands up in mock surrender and say, joyfully, "Oh, sweetie, he's all yours!"

Melina's eyes widen as the warning bell rings. She glances up at the nearest clock and then back at me, scowling. Then she stalks down the hall without another word.

It isn't until Melina has disappeared from sight when I feel like I've jerked back to the present, where students have begun their marches to class. Music fills the hallway as is customary during passing periods; another familiar thing.

"Willa," Val says, amazed. "Did you just do that?"

Part of me wants to answer no, whoever's in charge of my voodoo doll did but instead, I take the little victory as it comes. Standing up to Melina: check.

I lift a shoulder in a lazy shrug, a casual smile on my face. "What can I say?" I pop a heel behind me. "These boots have power."

And with that, we head to first period.

☼

The thing I love about the first day of school is that everyone gets all worked up about it for no reason. Virtually all you do in each of your classes is go over the syllabus and do some get to know you kind of game. Only rarely do you start taking notes or actually learning. It's the chillest day of the entire year, second only to the last day of school.

In first period, AP Psychology, Mrs. Stanton hands out our syllabus and answers a whole Q & A sessions worth about the AP exam in May. She seems pretty nice and funny, and she's also young--demonstrated by the memes in her powerpower. Val, Ben, and I all have AP Psych together, so that's another tic in the slot.

Second period and third are P.E. and AP Calculus respectively. In the former, Val and I joined the swarm of students in the main gym as the different gym classes are explained--Val and I are in Recreational Activities, because low effort. It's run by Coach Walters, the swim coach at West High. Having had him for freshman wellness a few years ago, as well as second semester junior year, he salutes Val and I as we enter.

AP Calc, apparently, seems to be the exception to my chill rule. Mr. Dennis, otherwise known as Mr. D to the students, lays down his syllabus like its Hammurabi's Code. Hardly anyone speaks in my class, and it doesn't help that Ben's in a different period and Val's next door in Stats. Either way, I make it through with minimal anxiety.

Finally, gracefully, fourth period arrives: lunch. Once that bell rings, swarms of students flock down from the academic wings and to the massive cafeteria. Val and I meet up outside our classrooms and head down together.

"So," Val says with a little excited shimmy, "how's the first day been?"

I shake my head with a laugh as we follow the crowd out of the math wing and down the stairs. "We're only halfway through, Val. And you've been with me for two out of the past three classes."

"I know! I'm just waiting for something to happen." Val heaves a dramatic groan. "So much potential for drama."

"I'm assuming Stats was uneventful then?"

"Obviously. I'm surprised Mr. Morrison didn't fall asleep himself."

We reach the bottom of the staircase and start heading down the main hall. Ben's waiting outside the cafeteria, since he just came from P.E. He flags Val and I down, and we extricate ourselves from the crowd to meet him.

"Took you both long enough," Ben says, pushing himself away from the wall.

Val makes a face. "Ben, it's barely been two minutes."

Ben makes a dismissive sound. "Let's not focus on the details."

He slings his arms out to encircle both mine and Val's shoulders in one swift motion, steering us into the cafeteria.

Now, even though this is my fourth year at West High, I'm still never quite ready to face the beast that is the cafeteria at lunchtime. You walk through the twin sets of doors into the middle of a mosh pit. Lunch tables set up in pods dot the expansive room, with the lunch lines cleaving it in half. Large windows line the walls, filtering in sunlight.

And everywhere, people. People standing in line, grabbing pizza, grabbing chips. People flocking to tables, waving down their friends. People milling about, here and there. How I've come to weave through these crowds is a mystery.

"Same table as usual?" Val asks, back-pedaling towards the lunch line.

"Always," Ben answers. "Assuming freshmen haven't claimed it."

Val glowers at the idea and then moves with the line. Ben and I head to the right, into the larger, windowed side of the cafeteria. Our lunch table, historically, has sat in the corner right before a pod of windows. It's allowed us optimal privacy, as well as people-watching opportunities. And thankfully, no freshmen have claimed it as theirs in the blitz that is passing period.

Ben and I drop our stuff and sit atop the built in stools surrounding the table. He fiddles with the sleeves of his unbuttoned flannel, folding his arms across the table. He fixes me with an eager look.

I make a face. "What?"

Ben blinks, realizing he hasn't said anything. "Oh," he says. "Has the first half of the day been all right?"

I lift a shoulder as I bend down to pull out my lunch. "If you're asking about any new unfortunate encounters with either Melina, Levi, or Grant, then no. I haven't."

"Well, I'm sure there'll be one soon," Ben says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes, chuckling. At that moment, Val joins us, sinking into her seat around the table between Ben and I.

"Careful," she mutters as she delicately opens her water bottle. "A migration is approaching."

Ben and I glance at one another, equally confused.

"Val," Ben says, turning back to her. "What'd we say about speaking like a Tolkien character?"

Val shoots Ben a scathing look. When she sees that neither of us get it, she throws her head back and groans. "Melina and her crew are changing tables!"

I quirk an eyebrow and start surveying the cafeteria. "So? They typically sit on the opposite side of the..."

Moving towards us are none other than Melina, Levi, Marco, and the rest of their posse in a cloud of body spray and high school lionization. They head to a nearby table, close enough for Val, Ben, and I to see them from where we sit, and only close enough to hear them if they're being obnoxiously loud--which they are. Just one look at the incoming seniors is enough for the two freshmen to get up and bolt like they're lives depend on it. Once they're gone, Melina sits down, the rest of her friends sitting down around her.

"Interesting," Val notes, narrowing her eyes at the group. "Grant's not among them."

I furrow my eyebrows at that. Given Grant's instant level of popularity--both from his grand entrance and speculated position as quarterback--not to mention his looks, he would have surely been inducted as one of West High's elite. But Val's right. He isn't with them.

"Think Melina knows we sit here?" Ben asks.

"I don't think so," Val says. "We're virtually nobodies."

"Hey!"

"No offense."

Ben sighs. "None taken."

Melina must be able to feel when people are looking in her direction, because she turns her head abruptly and catches all three of us looking. Her lips curl into a feline smile, and that's enough for me to look away.

"Well, I should have bet on that," Ben says, clearing his throat as he averts his eyes. "She knows now."

"I'd say it's a good thing she does," Val says, eyeing me with a smirk.

I make a face. "Why?"

Val takes a sip of her chocolate milk and sets it back down on her tray. "Because, my dear William, that means you've scared her. Whether its conscious or subconscious, Melina wants to keep an eye on you. This is her way of doing so."

I consider this. Truth be told, Melina and I have never gotten along, no matter how nice I've tried to be to her over the past several years. High school only amplified that mutual hatred, and I can only imagine that my confrontation with Levi has sealed my coffin in Melina's mind. Only now, she actually has to worry about me. I'm some kind of a threat to her, whether she knows it or not.

Before I can entirely register it all, Val begins chattering about some rumor she heard and the familiarity that had been otherwise absent from this entire day slowly begins to seep down through the cracks, settling me down once more.