The place inside a school where the most amazing things and scandalous events occur is often the longest corridor it has. Friendships are broken, alliances are made, and enmities are settled – among other life-threatening things. It's the closest thing to a Middle Eastern bazaar a teen in the western civilization can experience. Amy firmly believed the cheapest commodity was free floating gossip and actual intellect was the rarest. At least the girls wore tasteful outfits. Guys were beyond help.

Shame there were no camels. No four-legged ones anyway.

"Ms. Sexcapades two o'clock," Gemma nodded. They were strolling past an open courtyard housed in the longest and the largest building of Sirencester High School. Kristine caught sight of the pair and rushed forward, bursting through a group of appalled Jesus fanatics; her arms outstretched. She looked like a very toothy, smiley zombie.

She hugged Amy and Gemma tightly. "So, how are my two favorite lesbians?"

"We're fine," Amy said. "Barely hanging in there with French."

"Yeah, me too, Leftbreast's not a nice person. Speaking of which, mine still hurts after Jake Gillinsky went a little overboard with his enthusiasm; if you know what I mean ladies," Kristine winked.

"I know exactly what you mean," Gemma agreed, a tad more quickly than Amy would have preferred.

The three of them spiritedly discussed Kristine Nunez's colorful sex life on their way to Gym class. Amy liked Kristine. Despite her reputation speaking volumes about her, she was actually pretty smart and generous. She claimed that sex was her hobby. Some people did acapella, some danced, and some did weird art stuff with duct tape. Kristine had sex. And Amy respected that.

Her latest thing was nerds. She wanted Amy to hook her up with her friend Robin.

"He's cute. And not just cute-cute but cute," Kris explained. She had a way with words.

Kristine Nunez had classic Mexican looks. Straight jet-black hair, cool green eyes, the sweetest smile in Sirencester, and a funny and witty personality to boot. Amy couldn't see why Robin would mind. Plus, she obviously thought Robin was cute.

Kristine claimed that she needed to diversify her palate. Go for the mind or something.

"And did you know, they are like supposed to pack huge –"

"I think we can do without the visual, Kris."

Laughing was good. It served as an excellent distraction from Amy's eventful morning. The trio decided to skip Gym and just hang out near a sheltered glade behind the school dumpster. It was a spot infamously known as the 'it' place for the burnouts. The day was uncharacteristically bright and the trees gleamed golden, ochre and a burnished scarlet in the pale autumn sunlight.

Amy took a deep breath, letting the cool, fresh forest air fill her lungs. She felt light-headed and her jitteriness eased. Viewing the cottony clouds against a blue autumn sky as a good omen, Amy understood why the druggies liked the spot.

She hadn't seen Caleb since the quiz. He had disappeared, lost in a sea of retreating backs, before she could call out to him. In all honesty, Amy didn't mind because she wanted a healthy distance between them. Her thoughts became erratic whenever he came close. She didn't want to think about the little incident that had riled her up. But she didn't seem to be able to concentrate on much else either. Amy wished she could blame everything on her default adolescent programing.

"Amy, is there something going on? You look distracted," Kristine inquired, her cat-like eyes scanning her face. 

Amy paused before replying. Boy problems need girl talk. That was the truth universally acknowledged for the twentieth century.

"What if I tell you I think I have been seeing Caleb Dawson's ghost or spirit or something?" Amy said, her words tumbling out in a breathy rush.

What? A little confession never hurt nobody.

"I would say that you're a thirsty hoe. But anyway, why him?" Gemma asked. "And wait a minute, what do you mean ghost –"

"Yeah, if you are fantasizing about someone don't sell yourself short, Amy. Think Harry Styles as a pirate, on this sexy frigate ripping open your –"

"She's more of a real-life-fantasy person, Kristine," Gemma interjected. "Speaking of, I haven't seen him around recently..."

"Hey, what's wrong with Caleb Dawson? Rudeness aside, he is pretty hot," Amy felt like she had to defend her spectre against two ruthless women with fairly high standards. Hazel eyes wide she stared at Gemma, imploring her to skirt around the specifics. Suddenly, she felt shy.

"He is," Gemma held her hands up. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, still looking back at Amy with unease. Their seamless optical communication skills were a testament to their friendship. "But isn't the whole bad boy football player thing so overrated? On top of that his personality is like..."

"It's just that he has this hard quality," Kristine mused, her lips drawn in a pout. "And not in the right department."

"A rather harsh outlook?" Gemma chipped in.

"A subjective beauty."

"Totally agree, sister."

They laughed and gave each other high-fives. Amy humored them. She smiled, despite her mild annoyance at the superficiality of teenage existence.

Amy reflected, "I think everyone is a subjective beauty."

They fell silent, letting the statement hang in the air. The time had passed swiftly and Amy felt that she was ready to face the current mystery in her life. He managed to make her feel on edge, and it wasn't even the freaky physics of it all. Caleb was one tantalizing secret of the universe that she hadn't come across before. She didn't want to believe she was some kind of pioneer either. It was too much of a cliché.

Amy straightened her sweater, brushed the odd fallen leaf off her shoulder and led the reluctant girls back to the school. Cutting class she realized, was a subjective necessity.

Kristine and Gemma had Geography and Amy had Calculus. Before they split off in different directions, promising to catch up at lunch, Gemma turned to give Amy her serious face. "Ames, I've always had my doubts about your mental state but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

With a tiny smile, Amy assured her that she wasn't totally off her rocker yet and watched her best friend hurry towards a waiting Kristine. Getting dangerously close though.

She readjusted her satchel strap and looked up a second later to find Cecile Presley regarding her coolly. Amy let the muscles in her face relax. She donned her practiced mask of casual indifference and exhaled deeply. The perfect poker face.

Amy wasn't fazed by people checking her out. But there was something chilling in the way Cecile's dark eyes were fixated on the spot just below her jaw, where her pulse was beating steadily. She ignored her, sliding into her usual seat.

If Sirencester High hadn't had a rebellion singlehandedly orchestrated by an enigma known to the common folk as Natasha Boynton – Cecile Presley would be the Queen-bee of the hive. Amy had considered AP Calculus to be a bloody affair, and her opinion had only been reinforced when she had first seen both girls enter the class together.

That scene had come straight from a horror movie for children. It was comically frightening. Two powerhouses strutting down opposite ends of the hall towards the classroom in the middle. Cecile had smiled, her pearly white teeth glazing over the coldness in her eyes, just as Natasha had sneered at her with burning hatred evident on her face.

Amy had imagined a cartoonish God rubbing his hands wickedly while looking down at the pair, secretly pleased with the infinite potential for teen drama.

They were nothing alike. Cecile was tall, skinny and dark. Her long-sleeved black shirt was tucked neatly into her red pleated skirt, and like always, she wore her outfits like a second skin. Cecile expertly extended a sweet, well-meaning and harmless demeanor to the ignorant bystander. Every bit as innocent as the sweet-smelling Venus fly-trap appears to a rather juicy, unaware insect. She had dark hair, dark eyes and a dark soul.

Natasha was just as tall but heavy-set in an attractive, curvy way. Amy thought she looked very aristocratic. The other dimwits of the school disagreed and body-shamed her behind her back. Personally, Amy thought Natasha was the reincarnation of Catherine the Great. She was straightforward, despised double standards and achieved everything she set her mind to. And if looks could kill, Natasha would be responsible for mass murder on a daily basis.

Amy's opinions on both of these larger-than-life personalities couldn't have contrasted more if she would have placed them on different planets. The student body unanimously avoided their regular conflicts and everyone, including the teachers, knew better than to meddle.

But with Cece quietly feigning that there was no such enmity and Natasha screaming about it from the top of the school building every day for the past decade – it was a deceitful head-scratcher.

Caleb was in Calculus as well. Amy put her elbows on the tabletop and twirled her hair between her fingers. She stared at his empty seat, abstractedly wondering where he was. It wasn't like his attendance mattered.

Thankfully, today the class convened without incident. A few sparks did fly when someone solved a rather tricky problem using a method not taught in class and someone had to point it out because it was unfair to the rest of the aspiring mathematicians present. Mr. Clark was in dilemma-town, a mute witness to the nasty power struggle. Amy quietly finished her work in the background.

When she was about to leave Natasha caught up with her. Amy had grudging admiration towards her and she was sure that she received some in kind too. Rather like two sportswomen who played different sports but venerated each other's work.

Once in their seventh grade, an infamous serial killer had escaped Atlanta's high-security penitentiary and was rumored to have been heading north. In preparation, Natasha had organized an all-school Taekwondo class to train everyone. Although it would be of little help, the PTA had humored her. She had no obvious reasons behind the workshop but she had done it anyway. Amy knew Natasha would never want people to think that she did it to ensure everybody's safety – so she had encouraged the rumor that Natasha was doing to it kick the guys' sorry asses after that winter's mortifying Sadie Hawkins Dance.

Natasha had been unrelenting with her furious attacks and her harsh teaching methods. The boys were whipped through the halls of their middle school. Amy vividly remembered the guys wincing, clutching random body parts in the cafeteria. Connor Brown had to be taken to the nurse because his testicles had swollen to twice their normal size.

Amy had been one of the first few people in the school to sign up. She was in awe. It was probably the first time she had realized that girls could be physically strong as well.

"Here is your invite to my seventeenth birthday party, Amelia. It's in Thanksgiving break so be sure you find the time to come," Natasha said, handing her an envelope with an actual blood-red wax seal. The sigil on the seal, or that is what Amy thought it was called, was that of a goat's head. Its horns were extra-curly.

Amy smiled at the reference. "So, it's late November this year?"

"I was feeling Sagittarius," Natasha barked at her. "R.S.V.P sweetheart, as soon as possible."

"Yes, I shall," Amy wanted to add 'Your Highness' but she bit her tongue and refrained from doing so.

She smiled at Natasha and watched her walk away, still holding the envelope with amusement. People gave her a wide berth.

Natasha Boynton celebrated her birthday by unofficially inviting the entire school every year to her mansion on South Street. Getting an invite meant that the person in question was 'cool' in Natasha's eyes. But the party usually raged on to mindboggling levels and after that it didn't matter who came without one. It was the only party she threw in a school year and it was considered to be an extremely significant social event by a slew of wannabes. The catch was that Natasha never celebrated on her actual birthday. No one knew what her exact birthdate was.

Everyone except Caleb Dawson who had 'accidentally' peeped at her birth certificate in the administration office one day back in their freshmen year. To this day for some inexplicable reason, he hadn't told a single soul. Amy resolved to worm it out of him.

There it was, the perfect opportunity to ask around if anyone had seen or heard from Caleb since his 'disappearance'. Amy supposed she could find out where and when had people seen him last. She knew she was one of them. Who else could it be?

Amy wondered if people would be forthcoming. There was a chance considering they would be plied with sufficient alcohol when the party would be in full swing.

Someone tapped on her shoulder lightly, and a smooth voice from behind her said, "You need to be careful with that. It's Satan's party, I've heard they get pretty wild."

Amy turned and beamed at Ashton. She stood on her tiptoes to hug him. Sneakily, she sniffed his neck.

Ashton's scent was still as seductive as Amy recalled, a heady cocktail of citrus and sea breeze. Even after two whole years, she hadn't found it on anyone nor had she forgotten it. A furious blush colored her cheeks as the memory of her first kiss overpowered the present.

"Don't call her that. Everyone misunderstands her. You of all people should know how that feels," Amy rebuked. Her heart was tap dancing, albeit artlessly out of tune. They chatted aimlessly, careful to never say what they truly wanted to. Like they always had. When they were just about to enter the cafeteria, Ashton pulled her behind a large potted fern.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something. Are you coming to the game Friday night?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

"I am not cool enough for that anymore, Ashton," Amy shook her head. She peered into his brown eyes, waiting to catch the tiniest flicker of regret.

But he just smiled and said, "It would suck a whole lot less if you came."

Amy didn't have any concrete plans. She knew that the best course of action would be to stay away from Ashton. But she couldn't help herself. The shy edge in his voice had sealed the deal.

"I can't think of anything better to do really," Amy said, desperately wishing that she sounded blasé and sexy and not, well – desperate.

"Well, if you come," he began, fingertips touching hers gently, "I guarantee there's nowhere else you'd wanna be."

✧

A/N: Is it me or does everybody want a piece of Amy today? I've been hiding dreamy Ashton in the back pocket for too long but in my defence, I only wanted the really worthy to get to know him. On that note, thank you so much for 1k reads! It's wild to think that this little mystery is blowing up so fast 🍾