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The bleachers behind home plate formed their own pyramid of popularity—varsity jackets at the top, band kids in the middle, everyone else scattered at the bottom like fallen debris...
Maya's palms were literally sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, staring at Tyler's pool party invitation on her phone. The Ins...
Marcus's palms were sweating through his batting gloves, which was honestly embarrassing because tryouts were in twenty minutes and he was basically vibrating with anxiety. The bas...
Maya stared at the bathroom mirror, the fluorescent lights humming above her. The box of hair dye sat on the counter like a challenge—Sunset Orange, it promised. Her mom would lose...
Marcus Chen was what everyone at Northwood High called a social zombie — that walking-dead state of existing but not really living, especially when you're secretly in love with you...
Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could practically fill a water bottle. Not exactly ideal when you're holding a Solo cup and trying to look casual at the biggest party of fres...
Maya felt like a zombie after three days of finals week, surviving on nothing but caffeine and anxiety. Standing outside Tyler's house party, she pulled her dad's oversized beanie ...
Maya stared at the gymnasium transformation—crepe paper streamers draped in an attempt to recreate ancient Egypt. The student council had literally built a cardboard pyramid near t...
Maya dragged herself through third period feeling like a straight-up zombie. Four hours of sleep, three honors classes, and zero brain cells remaining. The social pyramid of Northw...
Maya spent forty-five minutes on her hair that morning, twisting her curls into perfect ringlets that bounced when she walked. Her mom had chopped fresh papaya for breakfast, the s...
The pool deck at the country club was basically a battlefield, and Jordan was losing. Bad. She stood by the snack bar in her two-piece that felt approximately three sizes too smal...
Maya's thumbs hovered over her cracked screen as she stood outside Jordan's house, the bass from inside vibrating through the soles of her knockoff Converse. Her cat — whom she'd d...