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Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her jeans, leaving dark streaks on the denim, and stared at the crumpled flyer in her hand. "MADAME ZORA - Palm Reading - KNOW ...
The pool water glittered like someone had spilled a million diamonds across the surface, but Maya couldn't appreciate it. Not with her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapp...
Maya's orange hair made her feel like a walking traffic accident. In a sea of beach-blondes and espresso browns at Northwood High, she stuck out like a highlighter in a black-and-w...
Maya's hair was supposed to be perfect. That's what TikTok said, anyway. But standing in front of her mirror at 11 PM on a Thursday, all she saw was a frizzy disaster that refused ...
The padel court behind school was where the hierarchy solidified every lunch period. I stood at the fence, watching Mia serve with that effortless flick of her wrist that made ever...
The internet was dead again. I stared at the loose coaxial cable hanging from my wall like a dead snake, feeling my entire Friday night slipping away. No Discord, no TikTok, no esc...
Maya's palms were sweating so much she thought they might actually drip onto the pool party invitation clutched in her hand. The biggest social event of sophomore year, at Jessica ...
I was already five minutes late to Jordan's party when the sky decided to absolutely go ham on me. Thunder shook my windows like the universe was mad I'd spent forty minutes perfec...
Marcus stood in front of the bathroom mirror, picking spinach out of his teeth with his tongue. Perfect. Absolutely perfect timing, because today was baseball tryouts and apparentl...
I watched them through the gap in the bleachers, my very own stakeout operation. Being a spy wasn't as cool as movies made it look - mostly it meant overhearing conversations I was...
The basement party smelled like cheap body spray and desperation. I clutpped my red solo cup like it was a lifeline, watching Jordan make everyone laugh with some story about getti...
Maya's iPhone buzzed against the pool lounge chair, lighting up withScreenshot after screenshot—messages from Jake claiming he'd totally nailed the backflip off the high dive. Mean...