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Maya's phone illuminated the dark garage, her face bathed in the harsh blue glow of her livestream setup. She'd spent hours arranging the ring light, angling her hair just so, and ...
The invitation said pool party, but Maya's brain heard social execution. She stood at the chain-link fence, chlorine and sunscreen wafting through the summer air like olfactory mem...
Marcus gripped the padel racquet until his knuckles turned white. First time at the courts, and naturally, he'd forgotten how to serve. Again. "You're thinking too hard," said Lil...
Maya felt like a zombie—a straight-up, groaning, shuffling member of the undead. Finals week had claimed her soul, leaving her functioning on three hours of sleep and pure caffeine...
Maya's lab partner since September, dumped her via Snapchat three hours before homecoming. Now she sat on her bedroom floor at 11 PM, surrounded by half-empty vitamin bottles her m...
I dyed my hair orange on a Tuesday. Just woke up and thought, why not? My best friend Leo, the baseball star of sophomore year, stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Dude, w...
The invitation said pool party but Maya felt more like a fish out of water. She clutched her orange towel like a lifeline, standing at the edge of the chlorine-blue rectangle where...
Maya's palms were sweating so bad she had to keep wiping them on her denim shorts. Not exactly the vibe she wanted to project at Jake's end-of-summer blowout. The backyard was alr...
Maya stood at the edge of Pine Lake, clutching her iPhone like it was her last connection to civilization. The party raged behind her—kids from Westside High blasting music, grindi...
Maya's iPhone buzzed at 2:47 AM, the screen lighting up her room like trapped lightning. She shouldn't have opened Instagram—she'd promised herself she'd stop stalking Kai's profil...
I felt like a literal zombie at Jordan's pool party. Three hours of sleep will do that to you — especially when those hours were interrupted by twelve existential crisis texts from...
The neon green hat was supposed to be my armor. Freshman year at Westwood High, and I'd already calculated that wearing it backward would project exactly the right amount of chill ...