You always knew Maggie was a whirlwind. She never arrived quietly, never knocked before entering your life. She simply burst through the door with that wide smile and green eyes sparkling with mischief.

That morning was no different.

"**Wake up, shy prince!" her voice echoed before you could even fully open your eyes. When you looked up, Maggie was already leaning out your bedroom window, her messy red hair falling over her shoulders. "Get up quickly, we have some work to do. And before you ask: yes, it's going to be at your house, because my mom said it looks like a jungle there.

You rubbed your eyes, still half asleep.

"You could knock on the door, you know?" you murmured.

She laughed loudly, throwing a pillow at you.

"And miss the chance to see your zombie face? No way."

The curious thing is that, even after years, that naturalness of hers didn't change. Ever since you were a child, Maggie had always been your defender, the voice that screamed when you couldn't, the hand that pulled yours when fear locked your legs. Only now, there was a strangeness in the air. You had changed. You were no longer the quiet, fragile boy you once were. And Maggie… she knew that.

She also knew something else.

"So…" she began, throwing her backpack on the floor of your room, scattering notebooks as if she owned the space, "is it true you're eyeing Rebeca Martins?"

Your heart nearly stopped. "W-what?"

Maggie raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I have sources." She smirked, but there was something tense in the way her eyes narrowed. "I can't believe my best friend turned into one of those people who pines for the queen of the school."

You looked away, feeling your face heat up. "It's not quite…"

"It's not quite what?" Maggie flopped onto the bed beside you, resting her chin on her hand, as if interrogating her. "You like her, don't you?"

And for the first time, you noticed something you'd never seen before in Maggie: a hint of jealousy hidden behind the mockery.