Then…

Two words: Senior year. A tight coil of nerves, equal parts excitement and dread, sits low in my belly. My emotions run the gamut...happiness because I finally made it; sadness because it will all be over too soon; anticipation to see all my friends after a long three months. And Jesse.

Especially Jesse.

I run down the stairs and make a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a banana for breakfast. “’Morning, honey,” my mom calls from near the sink.

“Good morning,” I parrot, voice light and breathless as I glance at the clock on the microwave. Jesse will be here in two minutes.

“You all ready for your first day?” my dad asks, as he walks into the room with my little sister, still half asleep, nestled in his arms.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I grab my backpack from the bench alongside the front door and hoist it onto my shoulder.

A car horn blares.

“Jesse’s here,” my mom states, even though it’s unnecessary. Who else would be in our driveway at 7:15 a.m. on a Monday morning?

My dad sneaks in a quick hug. “Bye, kiddo.”

“Good luck, honey.” My mom kisses my cheek.

“Bye, Ry-Ry.” Mikayla leaps into my arms. “Have fun at the big kids’ school.”

I squeeze my arms tighter around her. “And you have fun at the little kids’ school.”

I know that it’s practically mandatory to hate your little sister—or at the very least, be annoyed by said sister—but Mikayla is twelve years younger than me, so there isn’t any of the typical sibling rivalry. And when I do have to babysit her (on the rare occasion), I can’t complain, because who doesn’t like to watch Disney movies (although she was stuck on Zootopia for quite a while) and scarf cookie dough ice cream right from the container? Answer: no one.

The sound of the horn pierces the air again, and I rush toward the door. My entire family follows me out as though they’re sending me off to boot camp for six weeks rather than sending me to school for six hours.

“Bye.” I wave as I toss my bag into the backseat of Jesse’s old Honda Civic. “See ya later.”

* * *

“Riley.” Jesse leans over the console and wraps me in his huge arms. The happiness of seeing him is only slightly overshadowed by the fact that my parents and six-year-old sister are watching us. “I’ve missed you.”

I pull back and smooth my hands through my hair. “Couldn’t have missed me that much.” His brows wrinkle in confusion, so I continue. “You got in two days ago?” My voice rises at the end, and he nods in confirmation. “And I’m just seeing you now?” I smile to let him know I’m teasing, although I am a little hurt that I didn’t warrant more than a quick text message indicating he was home. Hell, we’ve been best friends, nearly inseparable, since we were five, and the fact that he was gone for the entire summer visiting his dad meant that we had a lot to catch up on.

He dips his head and scratches the back of his neck. “You know how my mom is. She took the whole weekend off work, and then we went to my grandmother’s house to visit.”

“In West County?” I question, surprised because his grandmother lives almost two hours away from us.

“Yep.” He nods, and then smiles his beautiful smile. The one that is special, only for me. “Don’t worry. I’m all yours now.”

“I sure hope you mean that, because you missed a lot over the summer.”

He puts the car in reverse, and I wave to my family one last time. “What’s your schedule? What period do you have lunch?”

Even though I have my schedule memorized, I still put it up on my phone to double check. “Fifth.”

“Sweet.” He glances my way. “Me, too.”

We pull into the school parking lot not even ten minutes later, and there are people… everywhere. For a moment I’m shocked by how much hasn’t changed.

Teachers and principals like to babble on at the beginning of a new school year with (corny) inspirational messages such as: New year! New you! You can succeed. Make good choices. Blah. Blah. Blah. But nothing ever changes. Not really.

My eyes scan the parking lot. Rachael Trunk, Tori Weether, Heather Plum, and Melissa Riche still roll up in Rachel’s flashy red Jetta. And Phillip McNorg and Bryan Traitor are still drop-dead gorgeous and two of Adams High’s most popular boys. Veronica Tish and Will Feeble are still Star Wars obsessed, with their dark black jeans and matching white Storm Troopers t-shirts. Same cliques, different day.

I rub my sweaty palms on my own denim-clad legs and heave a deep breath. Thirteen years of school. Thirteen first days. You would think I’d be a pro by now…but I’m not. I’m freaking nervous as hell.

Truth: I’m not what you would consider popular. Not by any means. While the reverse is also true—I’m not unpopular—I’m more of a drifter. I earn good grades—it’s not that I’m exceptionally smart, it’s just that I actually try in my classes. A good chunk of my friends are what could be classified as nerds. But I also became good friends with several people from my yearbook class, and they’d be grouped with the artists.

And then there’s Jesse. He’s my saving grace because he is popular. He’s friends with Phillip McNorg and Bryan Traitor. He’s considered the third (and quite possibly the most) popular boy at Adams High. They’re all starters on the school’s varsity basketball team. And just to be clear, basketball is a huge deal, as in, the entire school attends varsity basketball games. There’s a whole student pep squad dubbed “The Pack” that cheers exclusively for Phillip, Bryan, and Jesse, otherwise known as PB & J. The Adams Vikings won the state championship three years in a row. This year will make number four.

“You okay?” Jesse’s hand reaches over the center console and grazes my arm.

I glance at him and nod my head. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” he questions one more time, and this time I smile to mask my nerves. “You ready to do this?”

My fingers grip the door handle and I answer the same way I did to my dad not even a half hour before. “As I’ll ever be.”