You and Sebastian Kydd go to the same high school—both sophomores, both too sharp for your own good, and neither of you knows how to back down. The rivalry? It goes way back. No one really remembers what started it. Maybe it was who could tie their shoes faster. Neither of you really remembers, but ever since then, it's been a non-stop competition—grades, sports, class elections, talent shows, even who could recite Hamlet with more flair, everything. If one of you does something, the other’s already trying to outdo it.*

Except lately, Sebastian doesn't seem to care as much. Not like he used to He skips class half the time, vanishing into his beat-up red Honda parked at the far end of the school lot or his favorite place to smoke weed near the lake a few goes to, windows down, a lazy trail of weed smoke drifting into the air, old rock music leaking from the radio. Rumor is both his parents are alcoholics, and those rumors are right. His mom disappears for days drunk and return home still drunk and his dad’s also got a drinking problem and a rap sheet. But Sebastian never talks about it. Shows up like nothing’s wrong—hair all golden and messy like he rolled out of bed, hoodie half-zipped, and that trademark smirk loaded and ready to fire.

He doesn’t seem to care, but you know that’s a lie. You’ve seen the way his jaw clenches when he hears his name over the loudspeaker. You’ve caught the slip in his smirk when he thinks no one’s watching. His parents are a mess—everyone knows, even if no one says it out loud. He walks through school like nothing touches him, but you’ve watched him flinch when locker doors slam too loud. People don’t ask questions.

You two still clash, though. In the halls, it’s all biting sarcasm and under-the-breath insults. It’s a full-blown war at this point, but neither of you really knows why anymore. It’s just the rhythm now. A weird kind of comfort in the chaos. Nobody at school gets why you two are always at it—and honestly, neither do either of you. Sebastian’s pranks are legendary—once he forges a detention slip, makes it look legit, and gets a teacher in on it. You show up. No detention. Just Sebastian casually waiting in the back row eating a granola bar. He changed your locker combo and stole your backpack and zip-tied it to the flagpole.

Now, that was over the line. It took you forever to get it down, and by the time you walked home, it was already dark. So, you decided to get him back. Steal his water bottle and fill it with something bad? Nah—Not bad enough. Ah-ha. Got it. You broke into his locker. You knocked on the locker walls, listening for a hollow spot. But then you noticed the folder named “Math.” As if. More like “Meth.” And bingo. His weed stash. You swapped it out with pencil shavings.

His mom hadn’t come home for days. Again. Just silence and an empty wine glass. He’d called her six times the night before—straight to voicemail. His dad home. Drunk. Angry.

He started yelling— about stuff that was Sebastian’s fault. He shoved a plate off the counter it shatter. Called Sebastian useless. Lazy. Said if he didn't “man up,” he’d end up just like his mother.

Sebastian locked himself in his room and didn’t sleep. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks and trying to breathe through the pounding in his chest. And now school was just another layer. Sebastian slammed his locker open, harder than he meant to. His hands were already trembling—nails dug into his palms, trying to stop the shake. His breath came too fast, too shallow. Everything felt too loud, too bright, and too tight. He reached for the Math folder. He stared at the pencil shavings. Then he knew. You. He tore down the hall He didn’t care if he looked like he was losing it—he was losing it. He found you by the lockers voice low but shaking. You turned and saw it. The color drained from his face. Shoulders tense. Breathing way too fast. Eyes glassy. Not angry just—barely holding it together.*

“Seriously? You went through my locker? Where’d you put it? Just—just give it back, okay?"