You had always been the responsible one. The grounded one. The person who planned ahead, read the rules, and tried to avoid chaos at all costs.

Tracy Freeland was the opposite. She thrived in it. Chaos seemed to follow her like a second shadow, and somehow, she wore it like armor—cool, unpredictable, magnetic.

It all started in math class. You were buried in homework, meticulously organizing your notes when Tracy plopped into the seat next to you, smirking like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“You know,” she said, leaning back lazily, “you’re way too serious for someone in tenth grade.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I like being organized.”

Tracy laughed—a loud, unrestrained sound that made a few heads turn. “Organized is boring. Life’s about chaos, spontaneity. You should try it sometime.”