Ever feel like a side character in your own life? I mean, it's my life, right? It should be about me, Samar Tucker, the mixed-race girl with issues. But those issues pale when compared to the outlandish drama that is my best friend's life.

Maddie is... more complicated than I am. She's embroiled in a world where people can turn into wolves, and these other people called Wolfstalkers are trying to hunt them, and is it any wonder I feel like a side character? I don't fit in that world anywhere.

Which might be why I'm on this flight to Atlanta. I need to feel normal again, like the world hasn't gone crazy with stalkers and werewolves. My grandmother is celebrating her seventieth birthday this weekend, so Dad wanted to fly in to show some love. Given that it's also Valentine's Day weekend, I don't need any further excuse to stick around in California. I don't need all the pink-infused, romantic garbage reminding me of that time I misread the signals and tried to kiss Maddie.

Ugh. The sooner I forget that, the better.

After exiting the plane, we look for Uncle Anthony. Instead, I spot Alicia Keys holding a cardboard sign with TUCKER scrawled in black marker.

Okay, no, that isn't really Alicia Keys. I mean, why would a huge pop star be our chauffer? And why would we have a chauffer at all?

"Dad, where's Uncle Anthony?" I ask.

His brow furrows as he checks his phone. "Apparently he's unable to come, so he sent Jayla."

"Jayla? Who's Jayla?" My eyes wander back to the pop singer lookalike. "He's not dating underage girls now, is he?"

Dad spies the sign and raises his eyebrows. "I certainly hope not."

We approach the girl. Her eyes light up when she sees us. "You're here! Awesome." She lets the sign drop to her side. "I'm Jayla." She holds her hand out.

Dad shakes her hand even though we've never heard anything about her before.

"Davis and Samar, right?" She moves over to shake my hand. "You have such pretty hair! Just like the photos they showed me."

Just like the photos who showed you?

"Th-thanks," I stammer, still confused about what's going on. Plus this girl is pretty. Perfectly braided cornrows line her head and dangle down past her warm brown shoulders. The red tank top she wears proclaims SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND and sports a little cupid flying above the letters.

Most interesting of all, though, are her eyes. They're light brown, almost golden. A lot like Maddie's eyes.

Nope, nope, nope, I chastise myself. I will not remind myself of the silly crush I had on my best friend. Also, I will not wonder if she's a wolf.

"Any bags to claim?" she asks.

Dad shakes his head no.

She points at him. "Smart traveler. Come on, my chariot awaits."

Dad and I exchange glances as we follow. Who is she? I mouth.

He shrugs.

I follow Dad's lead and refrain from asking questions, which allows me time to admire her well-rounded backside.

I shouldn't be admiring her well-rounded backside. After all, she's—who is she anyway?

In the parking lot, Jayla stops next to a bright green Ford Fiesta. A pink Lyft sticker clings to the windshield. "I call it my lean green Lyfting machine." She produces a remote from her pocket with a flourish and unlocks the car with a button press. "I love that. My last car was a rust bucket that liked to eat keys."

Her smile is infectious, and I can't help grinning back.

Once we're inside the car with Dad in the front seat and me in the back, Dad looks at the Lyft sticker. "You're not going to charge us, are you?"

She grins at him. "That would we weird, right? But no, Anthony said he'd give me twenty bucks."

"That doesn't sound like him," Dad says with a small amount of suspicion.

"Ha," she replies, completely unfazed. "Maybe so. I think he's trying to impress my mom by being extra nice to me."

Ah! Our first clue about her identity.

She guides the car out of the lot, and we are soon rolling through the streets of Atlanta. Not long afterward, a snore emanates from Dad's slumped form in the front seat.

Jayla smiles into the rearview mirror. "Long flight?"

"It was all right. Cars put him to sleep unless he's driving." After a pause, I add, "MawMaw says anytime he would get fussy, they'd put him into their station wagon and drive around the block. Be asleep in minutes."

"Your grandmother does love her stories. What about you?"

"Oh I don't have interesting stories, and I have trouble falling asleep."

"Everyone has stories," Jayla says as she changes lanes. "Whether they're interesting or not isn't up to you."

I think about this insight. Dad can talk football all day long with his brother, but I have to stifle a yawn when he tries to explain to me what a first down is.

"Too many thoughts inside that big, beautiful brain of yours?"

My eyes snap to hers in the rearview mirror. Is she flirting with me?

"That's what keeps you from sleeping, right? Too many thoughts?"

I push away the stupid wishful thinking. She's just making conversation. Once upon a time, I thought Maddie had been flirting with me, but it turned out she never had those kinds of feelings for me at all. Jayla's right. I do have stories, but I'm not about to rehash one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.

"Yeah," I answer, my voice sounding a little sadder than I intend. "Way too many thoughts."

At the next stoplight, Jayla turns her head around to pin me with that golden gaze of hers. The colorful beads at the ends of her braided cornrows clack together. "You don't like your thoughts?"

I can't look away. "Not when they get me into trouble, no."

She raises an eyebrow with interest. "What sort of trouble?"

My gaze falters and I look down at my lap. "The kind that teaches you lessons."

"Ah, those." She pauses thoughtfully. "So, I go to Georgia Tech, right?"

"You do?" My mouth hangs open. The average high school GPA of students admitted into that university is 3.95. Don't ask me how I know that.

"Right," she says absently like it's no big deal. "And this one professor has this magnetic charm..." Her eyes turn dreamy.

The car behind us honks, causing Jayla to swivel back to the steering wheel and proceed through the green light.

I know all about magnetic charm. Maddie has that.

Stop thinking about your best friend, I chide myself. That's in the past now. I've moved on.

At least I think I have.

"So anyway, this professor likes calling on me a lot, and I start wondering what it would be like to have a torrid love affair with a hot humanities professor. Know what I mean?"

"With a teacher? Ew."

She laughs. "She's not, like, eighty or anything. She's gotta be maybe thirty, max. Her skin looks so soft." She steals a glance at me. "A lot like yours."

The breath has left my body. This woman is freely admitting to ogling her female college professor. She also seems to be hitting on me.

Nope! Nope. Not going there again.

"Does that shock you?" she asks, curiosity sparking through the rearview mirror.

"N-not in the way you think."

A slow smile spreads across her face. "Interesting."

Wait, why are we on this subject again? Weren't we talking about life lessons? "Did you act on those feelings?" I ask.

She seems to lose her train of thought. "What?"

"The hot teacher. What did you do?"

"Oh." She lifts a nonchalant shoulder. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean I chickened out."

"Oh." What was the point of this story again? "I guess it would be unethical anyway. The whole teacher-student thing."

"Yeah, there's that," she agrees.

I wait for the moral of the story, but she's fallen silent. "So what was the lesson you learned?" I ask.

She waits until the next red light before turning her mischievous eyes to me. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Nothing lost, either," I murmur.

Jayla faces forward again. "I suppose."

I can hear the disappointment in her voice, and it makes me feel... I don't know. Am I being a coward? I never thought of myself as one before.

Dad stretches, nearly thumping Jayla's head with an elbow. "Why aren't we there yet?" he mumbles.

"Complaining about my company already?" she teases.

They start chatting, and when the conversation turns to the Atlanta Falcons football team, I stop paying attention.

What topics make you drift away from the conversation? Voting, perhaps? ;)