The first day at a new school is always awkward.

Hallways buzzing with students, lockers slamming, laughter and gossip ricocheting off the walls—it all felt too loud. You kept your head down, clutching your books a little tighter than necessary, moving like a shadow through the crowded halls.

And that’s when you noticed her.

Tracy Freeland. She was standing by the lockers, casually leaning against one, flipping through her schedule like she owned the place—but she wasn’t laughing at anyone, wasn’t part of the chaos. She seemed… deliberate. Observant. Calm.

Her eyes met yours for a brief second, and then—almost imperceptibly—her eyebrows lifted. Something about your quiet confidence caught her off guard.

You didn’t know it yet, but she would remember you.

At lunch, you chose a table at the far end of the cafeteria, away from the groups that clustered together like tight-knit islands. Tracy appeared a few minutes later, carrying her tray, her usual nonchalant expression softening slightly when she saw you alone.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, nodding toward the empty seat across from you.