Chapter 1
I Don't Even Like Mornings.
There are two types of people in the world:
The kind who wake up early, stretch with a smile, and go on jogs.
Me — currently regretting every life decision that led to waking up at 4:50 a.m.
My alarm was basically screaming. I slammed it off and stared at the ceiling, completely still, hoping the universe would take pity and cancel school. It didn't.
So I got up.
Half-blind and zombie-walking my way through brushing my teeth and pulling on my uniform, I sighed. The skirt didn't sit right. My hair refused to cooperate. And I hadn't even left my room yet.
My school was far. Like, "might as well cross a timezone" far. Every day, my mom drove me all the way across the city and back — and I'm not even exaggerating — just so I could attend a school with "better academics" and uniforms that looked like prison clothes.
She dropped me off right at the gate like always, handing me a box of lunch and a kiss on the cheek. "Eat it all, okay? You're too thin."
"I eat more than Dad," I muttered. "And three goats."
She laughed. I didn't. Because I was barely awake.
The school courtyard was buzzing already. Students swarming in, brushing past each other like half-charged phones. I spotted her instantly.
"Fatima!" I called, and she turned with a grin.
"Jay! You look like death!" she greeted cheerfully.
"That's because I am," I replied.
Fatima was my person. My best friend since we were five and both confused about how long division worked. She always wore her hijab a little crooked and never failed to bring me extra chips on days I looked tired — which was always.
Behind her, the AMNSE girls were gathering — Freya with her glossy hair and sharp eyeliner, Bianca adjusting her lip gloss, and Ashlee dramatically fanning herself with a notebook like she was in a period drama. They were loud. Chaotic. Endearing. Mostly.
My day? Long. Brutally long.
Math was a personal war zone.
I sat there, staring at the board like it had betrayed me. X and Y? No thanks. I barely understood the question, let alone how people came up with answers so fast. I was convinced some of my classmates were lowkey wizards.
English, though? English I could do in my sleep. Essays, character analysis, metaphors? My territory. It was the only class where I felt like myself — where I didn't feel like I was pretending.
"Mariano," a voice drawled behind me as I shoved books into my locker.
I knew who it was before I turned around.
Keifer Watson.
Section E's loudest mouth. Arrogant, smug, irritatingly popular. And unfortunately gifted with perfect hair that flopped in just the right way to annoy me more.
I sighed without turning. "Watson."
"Still mad I beat your score in English last week?"
"You didn't beat it. You grazed it. There's a difference."
He smirked. "Still counts."
And like always, right on cue, his best friend Yuri popped up beside him like a stray cat. "Ooooh, are we fighting again? Flirting? I can't tell anymore."
I glared at both of them. "You can't tell because your brain hasn't been switched on since 6th grade."
Yuri clutched his chest dramatically. "Rude. And untrue. I've been awake since… wait, what day is it?"
"Please go away."
They didn't.
I never wanted high school to be dramatic. I just wanted to get through it. Quietly. Safely. In peace.
No boys. No mess. Just books, grades, and maybe the occasional cinnamon roll on the way home.
I used to think I had a chance at romance once — back in middle school. There was this boy I liked. Kind, gentle, looked at me like I mattered. I thought maybe he could be it. The start of something.
But then he switched schools and told me I was like a sister to him.
Yay.
Since then, I stopped believing in crushes and started reading more books. Books with characters who got each other. Who didn't fall in love because of looks or labels, but because they felt seen.
That's what I wanted. Not popularity. Not butterflies.
Just someone who made me feel… real.
But for now, I had algebra to survive. And Keifer Watson to avoid. And Yuri to mentally block out.
One day at a time.
End of Chapter 1