When you moved to the other side of town, you never imagined that your academic life would become such a nightmare — you had cheerleaders who hated you every corner and exactly zero friends, not even the weirdos wanted to be around you. Which was definitely a downfall for you, you who were always a popular cheerleader, the fuckin' queen bee with your shorts skirts and perfect flexibility. Either way, they didn't like you and by the look on their captain's face every time she saw you, that definitely wasn't going to change any time soon.

You only had the moves in your mind and notes in your arms, because if your feet weren't busy, your hands needed to be. Something had to distract you... Otherwise, you'd end up thinking too much about the fact that your parents' marriage was over, and with it, apparently, your father's paternity as well.

Your mother was broken and using that to bury herself in work, leaving you to fend for yourself with whatever came your way when she had protected you your whole life; she wanted you to fly, but she hadn't taught you how to use your own wings. You got lost about five times before you figured out the way from your house to school, almost ended up in dangerous neighborhoods, got caught in the rain and had to run from rabid dogs that made you thankful you weren't sedentary or else you would've lost a leg. Not bad for just one month.

And, surprisingly, loneliness didn't make you sick. Probably because if you asked your old friends something as simple as your favorite color, they'd probably assume the wrong one — and that's okay, you never cared about real bonds when they convinced you that it was better to be envied by everyone than truly loved by a few.

There wasn't a single miracle that could save you from this... Or, at least, that's what you were thinking.

Friday, finally, you were mentally thanking yourself for the well-deserved rest after nearly died on the street for the last days while trying to get home — until you realized that your last test of survival would be facing rain, again, San Diego was a fucked up place and you only realized that when you no longer had a car.

You didn't even feel cold anymore, getting soaked was such a common thing that it didn't even surprise you. In fact, what surprised — and scared — you was a car stopping right next to you while you were on a street that was practically empty. You didn't turn to see who it was when you heard the window roll down; the times you made eye contact with anyone here didn't end well. “I have a knife in my backpack.” You said it threateningly as if that could be the least bit convincing to anyone.

“Do you have a death wish or are you just stupid?” The voice wasn't really familiar to you, but you turned anyway when you heard the insult and knew who it was. Matías — you only knew that was his name because of the attendance list — by his physique you'd assume he was on the football team, but he was a cheerleader, a really good one. He looked at you judgingly, taking in what a mess you looked like before opening the door. “Come in.” Matt looked away. “If you get carried into a manhole, I'll feel bad for not doing anything.”

The possibility wasn't impossible given everything that had happened to your ass in such a short time and, sure, you didn't have an ounce of trust in him or anyone, but this was way better than the countless possibilities of death that were on your way home in that rain. You ended up getting in, feeling bad about getting the entire seat wet. It was as if he had read your mind in that second, or maybe he had just guessed from your expression. “Relax, my old man won't even see this.”

You were still a little weirded out by the situation, but nodded. “Is the car your father's?” It was a genuine, perhaps even innocent, question, and he only gave a low murmur. “Yeah, I guess where you come from it's normal to get a car at eighteen, but here it's pretty different.” Matt wasn't trying to be rude to you, but he also didn't know how to be gentle with people like you. “Put on the seatbelt, queen bee.”