Ximena's POV
The corridors of Willowview High pulsed with Monday morning energy when I stepped through the entrance doors. The usual start-of-week chaos mixed with an electric anticipation that seemed to crackle through every conversation. Two topics dominated the hallway buzz - tonight's bonfire at Allen's Field and the upcoming Friday game that had everyone on edge.
I walked toward my locker with deliberate confidence, spine straight and chin lifted. Gone were the days when I'd hunch my shoulders and try to blend into the background. Sure, I caught the snickers, felt the weight of sideways glances, noticed how some conversations died when I passed - but I'd mastered the art of acting like none of it touched me.
Some mornings, though, that performance took every ounce of strength I had.
"Dude, this is our week," Anton's voice cut through the hallway noise with its usual swagger.
