IT TAKES THIRTY MINUTES TO fix my schedule. The process would have been much faster if they could access my Portland transcripts, but the system sucked those down the technological black hole. Everything had to be redone by shuffling through my files and inputting them into the computer. Nightmare.

All in all, my schedule isn’t the worst. I missed first period English III with Mrs. Lee, but that’s fine by me because I’ve heard she’s tough. I don’t have any of my friends in second period Spanish class, which is a bummer. I try not to fall asleep listening to Señora Martínez read us our syllabus word for word. She even makes us tape them on our binders so we “never miss turning in an assignment,” as if we’re six instead of sixteen.

The irony of all ironies happens when I walk into third period AP US History and see Jay. I remind myself the divine powers of destiny are not interfering with my life as he motions for me to sit by him. Despite the stares from my classmates, I do. I keep my body language casual because I am so totally cool with Jay and Whitney, even though I haven’t seen her yet.

I’m starving by the time lunch rolls around. Lin texts me as I’m walking to the cafeteria, letting me know she’s waiting for me in the pizza line. Relief eases through me. I’m thankful that our small lunchtime rituals haven’t completely disappeared. I tell her I left my money in my locker, but I’ll be there ASAP.

I make my way through crowds of students until I reach my locker. It’s a lower locker (ugh) so I have to squat to open it. I pull out a few bills that I keep in my dance bag. I don’t know why I brought it today. I haven’t tried out for Wavettes yet and I didn’t know if my Dance III elective would be approved (luckily it was), but it was sitting by my backpack like it belonged there, so normal and familiar. I would have felt naked leaving the house without it.

When I enter the lunchroom, I notice not much has changed. The walls are already covered in this year’s hand-painted cheerleading posters. Drama flyers are taped to the double doors promoting the fall play. The circular tables designed to fit eight (but can fit ten—we’ve done it) stand before me in their blue plastic glory. Even the weird, mixed-food cafeteria smell is unenticingly the same.

Our table is in the left-hand corner near one of the many windows. I’m relieved to see Jay, Raegan, Whitney, Lin, Colton, and Breck already sitting there. From afar I notice Breck’s braids are tied back with a recognizable red-and-black Cedarville cheerleader’s ribbon, and I wonder if he’s begun dating someone on the squad. It’s a minor detail, but it’s a subtle reminder of how much I’ve missed.

As I walk closer, I realize Whitney occupies the seat next to Jay—my unofficial seat. It makes sense. They’re dating now, so she should have the seat next to him. I can’t help the tingle of irritation that courses through me. Am I that easily replaced?

No. I’m being too sensitive.

“Kira!” Raegan leaps out of her seat, bumping the table with her hip as she reaches to hug me. She’s wearing a black skirt and a floral top with a pale green cardigan over it—one of many she owns. Cardigans have always been her thing. “I’m so beyond happy you’re back!”

I squeeze her tightly. Raegan is one of my oldest friends. We used to play together with our Betty Spaghetty dolls when we were little, and she would always make hers run for president. But Betty Spaghetty pantsuits didn’t exist, so she had to dress her up in the standard neon short-shorts. In middle school, she wrote an outraged letter to the Ohio Art Company suggesting they should highly consider evolving Betty from a fashion queen to a strong, independent woman figure for little girls to look up to. That’s just the type of person Raegan is. So it doesn’t surprise me that she’s made Leadership Council President this year.

Through her springy coils I see Whitney. She looks uncomfortable. Is it bad that I feel justified? Maybe.

But it’s Whitney. She’s the one who half-carried me to the nurse when I sprained my ankle at dance camp in middle school. When we were eight, she talked my dad into letting us go to her uncle’s ranch so I could finally learn how to ride a horse like a true Texan. She’s been there through all my fallout crushes and tears over failed tests and through all the frustrations with my dad.

I can’t hold Jay against her. We’ve been through so much. Besides, I was the one who cut off communication. It’s a miracle they’re all still talking to me.

When Raegan releases me, I bounce over and hug Whitney. I feel her tension dissolve, and I wonder if she can sense my own relief.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she says when she lets me go. Then she gestures for me to sit in the empty seat between her and Lin. “How was Portland?”

Lin slides a paper plate with a large pepperoni pizza slice on it. I thank her and hand her three bucks. “Uneventful,” I say truthfully. “I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too,” Breck says, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at his own reflection using the front-facing camera on his phone and stroking his smooth, dark skin near his cheek.

“Breck is growing a beard,” Whitney explains in a very unenthusiastic voice.

Breck looks up at the sound of his name. He leans closer to me in case I need to further inspect his patchy facial hair, which is not even close to a beard. “It’s coming in nicely, see?” He stares back at his phone. “I’m going to keep growing it.”

Whitney rolls her eyes. “Don’t. You look diseased.”

Breck ignores her, looking at me. “I’m trying to appear more distinguished. A beard is a sign of maturity and—” He glances at Lin. “I’m trying to convince this one to let me on Academic Decathlon.”

Lin appears unmoved. “We already have enough for Varsity.”

I know from Lin that decathlon is ranked by your GPA, the top-tier being Honors, then Scholastic, then Varsity, and you have to have a mix of all three in order for your team to compete.

“Ah, but I’m a Scholastic student.” Breck leans over the table. “And I know you need a replacement since Araceli graduated.”

“Yeah, we need a dedicated replacement.”

While they bicker about Breck’s commitment to both basketball and decathlon, Whitney turns to me. Her wavy brown hair has been cut into layers that frame her face, and she’s ditched her heavy concealer for a more natural-looking powder. I didn’t think it was possible for her to get any prettier.

“Are you going out for Wavettes this year?” she asks me.

“You have to!” Raegan squeals. She digs her fork into the packaged salads we swore we’d never buy because the chicken in them looked like cow brains. But I notice she and Whitney are both eating them. “I’m co-captain, did I tell you that? The team voted for me!”

“Only because nobody wanted Brianne Bossy-Ass as co-captain,” Whitney says. Is that jealousy in her voice?

Raegan lets the comment slide. “Tryouts are next week.”

Although I was never a fan of the grueling practices, I loved performing Friday nights with everyone. The bus rides to the games were the best part. We’d blast music and make silly faces for pictures we’d later post on Instagram. I wonder if this is Whitney’s way of letting me know she still wants me to be part of that.

“I’ll be there,” I tell them.

“She’s definitely joining Earth Club,” Lin brags. She’s never been on dance team with us, and sometimes I think she feels left out. Earth Club has always been our thing.

I smile at Lin. She looks so happy. How could I ever have stopped talking to her? It was stupid. I was so self-absorbed in my miserable life that I didn’t realize they were only trying to stay connected to me.

Colton leans over, trying to steal one of Lin’s pepperonis off her pizza. It’s an unsurprising maneuver coming from him. He was always doing this freshman year, even after eating two entire burgers by himself.

She pulls her plate away just in time. “Eat your own food.”

He looks glumly at his empty tray. “I did.”

Colton has been Jay and Breck’s friend for as long as I can remember. He’s one of the poor souls who’s had the misfortune of wearing braces for the last three years and counting, and he’s always wearing obscure band T-shirts with a long-sleeved flannel over them. Today’s shirt reads BLOODSPURT, which almost makes me lose my appetite.

I try not to lose my appetite even more when he starts picking food out of his braces.

Raegan makes a grand gesture of flipping her spiral open.

Jay groans. “Already?”

I have no idea what’s going on.

Whitney elbows him in the ribs. “Be nice. She’s president this year.”

Oh. I get it. She’s in charge of the Leadership Council agenda.

“Thank you,” Raegan tells Whitney, then she sweeps her gaze over the table. “You all better be nice to me, or I’m not inviting you to the White House when I’m the first black female president.”

Colton’s head shoots up. “Will you have a personal chef?”

Whitney gives him a look like, duh.

Colton elbows Jay. “Yeah, man, be nice.”

“I can’t fall behind.” She taps her pen on the empty page. “We’re starting to plan the homecoming dance.”

I find myself repeating Jay’s question. “Already?”

Raegan gives me an exasperated look. “It’s so much planning! I didn’t even realize how much.” She scribbles something in her notebook. “You’ll be on decoration committee, right? Whitney and Lin already told me they would.”

“It’s a lot more fun than it sounds,” Lin promises, swatting Colton’s hand away as he unsuccessfully attempts another pepperoni. “Last year we brought our dresses with us and got ready in the girls’ locker room when we were done setting up.”

“I almost forgot about that!” Whitney’s eyes go wide with amusement. She leans over and grabs Lin’s arm, her cluster of thin silver bracelets tinkling into each other. “Oh my god! Remember how Bethany Weaver forgot her bra? And we had to cut her sports bra into a bandeau so she could wear it with her strapless dress?”

Lin laughs, adjusting her glasses. “Because she refused to NOT wear one!”

Raegan looks up from her notebook. “And remember we made Vanessa run to Walgreens because we all needed extra bobby pins? But she also came back with that giant bag of gummy bears—”

As I listen to the three of them reminisce over last year’s memories, I can’t help feeling like a sock left behind in the dryer. But I fake a smile and pretend I’m interested even though it pains me to hear about all the fun I missed.

I’m so deeply involved in my self-induced pity party that I don’t register what Raegan asked me and she has to repeat it.

“I asked if you wanted to come over this weekend and help make posters for Spirit Week.” I know this isn’t for another month, but Raegan likes to be ahead of the game. She starts studying for exams at the end of October even though they aren’t until mid-December. “Then you guys can sleep over after.”

Colton pumps his fist in the air. “All riiiiight!”

Raegan rolls her eyes. “Not you.”

He shrugs like he gave it his best shot.

It’s been so long since we’ve all had a sleepover. We would spend most of the time scrolling through Netflix looking for a show to binge on but we’d end up not watching anything, choosing to gossip and lurk on classmates’ Twitter accounts instead. That sounds like exactly what I need right now.

“I’m in,” I say.

“Ugh, I have pre-calc next,” Whitney moans, staring at her schedule. “Do you think it’s too late to switch into Algebra II?”

“The office is a nightmare,” Jay says with a mouthful of baked potato. “Kira and I were stuck there for thirty minutes this morning.”

Whitney’s eyes slowly travel to mine, then back to Jay. This is the first time he’s acknowledged me. Well, indirectly acknowledged me. I wonder if lunch is as weird for him as it is for me. Not too long ago, it was me sitting in Whitney’s seat. I try and suppress those thoughts, but I can’t help feeling a sting of jealousy underneath the surface.

“You guys were in the office together?” Whitney says, her words careful. I can tell Jay didn’t share this information with her before lunch.

Jay doesn’t seem to notice her tone. He shovels another forkful of baked potato into his mouth, so I’m forced to speak for the both of us. “The system went down last night. It messed up our schedules and we had to wait to fix them.”

Whitney nods, but she doesn’t say anything else about it. Instead she rests her hand on Jay’s arm. This gets his attention. I have to look away.

“We still on for after school?” she asks him.

They’ve already made plans. Just the two of them. This shouldn’t send throbbing pangs through my chest, but it does.

Jay chugs the rest of his Gatorade, then says, “Can’t. We have practice.”

Whitney frowns. I know it’s horrible of me, but I feel oddly satisfied.

“We have our Wavettes meeting anyway,” Raegan says, then throws an apologetic look my way. “Don’t worry. You’ll be on the team in no time.”

Lin smacks her head. “Crap. I just remembered the first decathlon meeting is after school.” She glares at Breck. “See? Your basketball schedule is already interfering with decathlon, and you aren’t even on the team.”

Breck gives her his most charming grin. “I could work it out. Trust me, Linny.”

“Don’t call me that.” She looks at me. “Sorry, Kira. Will you be able to catch a ride home?”

“Sure,” I say confidently, but my throat’s gone tight. I don’t know why I feel like crying. Maybe it’s because everyone else has lives after school and I don’t. Or because no one has brought up our post–first day of school tradition of getting Slurpees from 7-Eleven and binge-watching bad sitcoms while we procrastinate doing homework.

Raegan takes a huge bite of her cow brain salad.

I cringe. “Why are you eating that?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” She stabs some lettuce with her fork. “Besides, I’m trying to cut out greasy food. It makes me break out.”

I glance down at the rest of my pizza. Was that a hint? Has she noticed zit city on my forehead? I should have cut my stupid bangs this morning.

No, I’m overanalyzing things. But still. We never cared about stuff like that before. It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed.