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Maya pulled the brim of her black beanie lower, practically hiding her entire face. The hat was her armor, her shield against the brutal ecosystem of high school pool parties. Insi...
The air tasted like ozone and pretzels. Jake clutched his iPhone in the dugout, scrolling through texts while Coach Miller droned on about district finals. Above the field, purple ...
Maya adjusted her bikini top for the third time, feeling ridiculous. What was she even doing at Chloe's pool party? The social pyramid at Lincoln High had tiers, and Maya floated s...
The padel court smelled like expensive dreams and desperation. I stood there gripping my rented racket like my life depended on it, sweat already making my shirt cling in all the w...
The cafeteria line moved like molasses in January, which was fitting because everything about sophomore year felt slow and painful. Especially the social pyramid—that invisible str...
Maya's palms were sweating—not the cute, dewy glow from TikTok skincare routines, but the full-on, panic-mode slick that made holding your phone impossible. She wiped them on her d...
Maya's cat, Barnaby, sat by the bathroom door like a fuzzy sentinel while she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The sophomore formal was tonight, and honestly? She was lowkey...
Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. Which was ironic, considering she was currently hiding behind a massive potted fern at Tyler's hous...
Maya stood at the edge of the pool party, clutching her dad's oversized baseball **hat** like a security blanket. The Liams and Chloes of Roosevelt High were already doing cannonba...
Maya's first week at Oak Creek High felt like walking into a lion's den—if lions wore varsity jackets and posted thirst traps on Instagram. She'd moved from Chicago to rural Wiscon...
Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching his solo cup like a lifeline. The social "pyramid" of Eastwood High loomed above — Jennifer Martinez and her varsity friends arrange...
My hair was doing that thing again—the thing where it defied physics, humidity, and every product I'd wasted twenty bucks on. I yanked my beanie down, practically massaging my scal...