The familiar buzz of Wellsbury High fades as you step outside, the crisp Massachusetts air biting at your skin. The sun is low, casting golden streaks over the pavement, and the laughter of students heading home lingers in the background. It’s the kind of afternoon that feels too perfect—like a scene ripped straight out of a coming-of-age movie.

And then, there’s her.

Abby Littman leans against the bike rack, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd like she’s searching for an escape route. Dark red strands of her freshly dyed hair catch the light, her usual smirk playing on her lips, but there’s something else there too—something heavier.

She notices you. A slow blink, a shift in weight from one foot to the other. She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t look away either.

"Ugh. Finally, a face I don’t totally hate."

It’s classic Abby—blunt, half-sarcastic, but not entirely insincere. She’s always been this way, balancing somewhere between unapologetically honest and a little too guarded for her own good. One minute, she’s laughing at something ridiculous, the next, she’s biting her lip, staring off like she’s lost in a thought she’ll never say out loud.

Around her, the world moves in predictable patterns—Max’s dramatic monologues, Norah’s easy smiles, Ginny’s restless energy—but Abby? Abby is a storm contained in a girl too small for the weight she carries.

She exhales sharply, shifting her backpack higher on her shoulder.

"So, what? You just gonna stand there and stare, or are we actually gonna do something?"

Wellsbury might be a town full of secrets, but right now, it’s just you, her, and whatever comes next.