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Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket like an angry hornet. Another Instagram story from Jessica's party—everyone looking radiant, golden-hour perfect, while Maya sat at home watching ...
My palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating - gross, right? I'd been staring at Leo's Instagram story for twenty minutes, and the party was in two hours. The cable from my rout...
Maya stood at the edge of Julie's backyard pool, clutching her orange soda like it was a lifeline. The can was sweating in the humid July heat, or maybe that was just her palms. Ev...
The **pool** water glittered like crushed diamonds under the August sun, but Maya's stomach was doing backflips that had nothing to do with the humidity. Today was the day—finally—...
Maya stood in front of her bathroom mirror, Instagram camera rolling. "Day 7 of my glow-up journey!" she chirped, holding up a glass filled with something that looked like swamp wa...
The padel court smelled like old rubber and teenage desperation — my favorite combination. I adjusted my grip, sweat making the racket handle slippery. "You're thinking about her ...
Marcus stood in front of the mirror, his vintage dad hat pulled low over his eyes. It was his armor against the world. At sixteen, he still hadn't mastered the art of existing in s...
Maya pulled the oversized bucket **hat** lower over her forehead, but the brim kept flopping up like a dead flower. So on trend, or at least that's what TikTok claimed. Standing at...
Maya's iphone lay face-down on her comforter, its screen glowing with incoming notifications she couldn't bring herself to check. Another party at Jared's house—her third weekend i...
Maya stood at the edge of the pool, clutching her tote bag like it contained state secrets. The backyard of Jessica Hamilton's house shimmered with heat and popularity—kids she'd k...
Maya's palms sweated against her phone as she ducked behind the gymnasium dumpster. She felt like such a creep, spying on her own supposed friends. But after two weeks at Northwood...
I'm basically a zombie at this point. Third consecutive all-nighter, fueled by nothing but questionable energy drinks and the terrifying knowledge that Mr. Henderson's AP Euro fina...