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The padel racket felt slippery in my sweaty palms. Tryouts. First day at Crestwood High. My heartbeat echoed like a bass drop at a homecoming I'd never been invited to. "Yo, you g...
Maya's heart hammered as she stepped through Jordan's doorway. The bass thumped against her ribs. This was it—her first real high school party. She'd spent forty-five minutes on he...
The pool party was already in full swing when I got there, bass thumping from someone's Bluetooth speaker. I could see Beck—aka the **bull** of sophomore year—holding court on the ...
Maya stood at the edge of Jake's backyard pool, clutching her iPhone 13 like a lifeline. The screen displayed 472 unread notifications from the group chat blowing up about tonight'...
Maya's hair had been the same shade of "mousy brown" (her words, not mine—she was dramatic like that) since kindergarten. But the summer before junior year, she decided to change e...
Jordan's vintage Yankees hat sat backward on his head, positioning him exactly nowhere in the high school hierarchy. It was his armor, his middle finger to the lacrosse bros with t...
My best friend since third grade, Leo, had officially become a zombie. Not the brain-eating kind—though sometimes I wondered—but the phone-scrolling, meme-spewing, barely-conscious...
The lightning storm that ruined Mia's sweet sixteen was, honestly, iconic in the worst way. All her carefully curated aesthetic—fairy lights, the papaya-carved centerpiece she'd sp...
Maya gripped her iPhone until her knuckles turned white, the screen glowing with 47 unread texts from the group chat she'd been ghosting all week. The Taylor residence loomed ahead...
The backyard pool glowed green from underwater LED lights, casting everything in an alien aura. I leaned against the fence, nursing a lukewarm soda, feeling like a total zombie aft...
Maya's thumb hovered over the send button, her iPhone screen glowing like a lifeline in the darkness of her bedroom. The message to Chelsea—her best friend since kindergarten—sat t...
The summer before sophomore year, I spent every evening running laps at the community college track because Coach said if I wanted varsity, I'd need to shave seventeen seconds off ...