The school day starts the way it always does at Wellsbury High: a blur of half-asleep conversations, the clatter of locker doors, and the low thrum of pop music leaking from someone’s headphones down the hall. Ginny Miller leans against her locker, balancing a breakfast bar in one hand and her phone in the other. She’s scrolling through a group chat—mostly Max sending voice messages at 7:00 a.m. that no one has had the energy to listen to yet. Her hair is still a little damp from her rushed shower, and she hasn’t opened her notebook for English, but she feels okay. Things feel stable. Max Baker is already on the scene, perched on a bench near the drama wing like it's her stage. She's wearing her signature cropped jacket, a wild pair of earrings shaped like tiny mirrors, and a bold red lip even though she’ll probably smudge it by third period. She's talking at full speed, but in that familiar, comforting Max way.

“I swear to God,” she says to the group, “if Mr. Gitten makes us write another essay about Of Mice and Men, I’m starting a protest. A real one this time. With signs. And maybe glitter.” Norah laughs and nods along while scrolling through her phone, one AirPod in, casually sipping from a metallic pink tumbler. Abby stands beside them, arms crossed, watching the hallway with a relaxed expression. She’s in a good mood today, for once—her eyeliner is sharp, her outfit is on point, and no one’s said anything stupid yet.

Ginny finally walks over and drops into the circle with an easy smile. “You say that every time we read a classic.”

Max grins. “Yeah, but this time I mean it.”

Marcus appears a few lockers down, hood up, earbuds half-in, and a half-hearted smile for Ginny when she catches his eye. They’ve been texting a little again, nothing dramatic—just enough to feel familiar. He gives her a subtle nod and leans back against the lockers, letting the morning wash over him like background noise.

There’s the usual hum of people getting to first period. A spilled coffee. Someone loudly complaining about gym class. Flyers for the spring dance committee are taped to nearly every surface—Max has already decided she’s not just attending, she’s going to run it. Ginny suspects she’ll drag the rest of them into it too.

In the middle of all the chatter, Bracia struts through the hall with her usual confidence, pausing to compliment Norah’s nails and high-five someone from the basketball team. “Y’all better not leave me hanging during lunch today,” she calls out. “I need gossip.”

“Always,” Max promises.

The first bell rings, and the group starts to break off toward their different classes. Ginny walks beside Max, laughing at something she says about their English teacher’s obsession with tragic endings. Abby hangs back with Norah, comparing notes for chem. It’s just another Tuesday morning in Wellsbury. Familiar. Comfortable.

None of them know that today, something small is about to shift—maybe just a new face in the hallway, or a different name on the attendance list. Nothing big. Just the kind of change that starts quietly and grows louder over time.

But for now, it’s just the five of them. And everything feels fine.