The boxes were stacked like towers in the corner of Maya Thompson’s new bedroom, but she didn’t want to unpack. She sat on the edge of her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, staring at the pale blue walls that didn’t feel like hers.


Outside, the quiet streets of Willow Creek stretched out in both directions, lined with oak trees and houses that looked too similar. It was nothing like the city they’d left behind—no honking horns, no crowded sidewalks, no late-night corner stores. Just stillness. And silence.


Maya sighed and glanced at her phone. No new messages. Her friends back home were probably hanging out without her already. Out of sight, out of mind.


“Maya?” Her mom peeked in, offering a soft smile. “Want to come help me in the kitchen? I could use your expert eye to find the plates.”


Maya shrugged. “Maybe later.”


Her mom didn’t push. “Okay, honey. Just remember, your first day’s tomorrow. Maybe getting your outfit ready would help?”


Maya gave another shrug as her mom disappeared down the hallway.


The first day at a new school.


She had imagined it a thousand different ways since they told her they were moving—some good, most bad. What if everyone already had their friend groups? What if she got lost in the hallways? What if someone made fun of the way she dressed, or how quiet she was?


She looked at the framed photo on her nightstand. It was her and her best friends from home, taken at their last sleepover. They had cried, then laughed through the tears. “Group chat every day,” they had promised. But it wasn’t the same.


Maya lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe someone would say hi. Maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t be invisible.


She didn't know it yet, but tomorrow she’d meet a girl who would change everything.

The next morning, Maya stood in front of her mirror in jeans, a lavender hoodie, and a fresh pair of sneakers. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun, neat enough to keep the frizz at bay. She didn’t feel ready, but she looked like she was trying—and that was enough.


Her mom drove her to school in the family’s old sedan. “You’ve got this,” she said as they pulled into the lot outside Willow Creek High. “Be yourself. Someone is going to see how special you are.”


Maya offered a small smile but kept her eyes on the students walking into the building. She clutched her backpack straps, her stomach flipping like a gymnast.


Inside, the halls buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional slam of a locker door. Maya followed the room numbers on her schedule, dodging groups of kids who already seemed to know where they were going. Every now and then, she caught someone glancing at her with curiosity.


She finally found her locker—number 112—and tried to remember the combination the secretary had written down.


23-7-18.


She turned the knob carefully, but it wouldn’t open.


“Ugh,” she muttered, trying again.


“Need help?” a voice asked from beside her.


Maya turned to see a girl with honey-brown skin, big hoop earrings, and tight curls pulled up into a puff. She wore a yellow crop top under a jean jacket, paired with confidence like it was perfume.


“I’m good,” Maya said automatically, but her fingers fumbled again.


The girl laughed lightly. “You’re new, huh? I’ve been here since sixth grade and I still hate these dumb locks.”


Maya nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah. Just moved here.”


The girl extended a hand. “I’m Brielle. And you’re?”


“Maya.”


“Pretty name,” Brielle said, then leaned closer. “Let me guess—schedule in hand, looking lost, battling your locker. Yep, classic New Girl Starter Pack.”


Maya laughed before she could help it. “You’re not wrong.”


“Come on,” Brielle said. “Let me show you around. First class?”


“English. Room 204.”


“That’s on my way. You can walk with me.” She motioned down the hallway like a tour guide. “Now, this way is the cafeteria, also known as the zoo after noon. That’s the gym, where dreams of sports glory die. And—oh, that’s Savannah. Don’t make eye contact.”


Maya glanced up and caught a glimpse of a girl with perfect hair and a smirk that could slice glass. She was surrounded by other girls who seemed to orbit her like moons. Maya quickly looked away.


Brielle leaned in. “Don’t worry about her. She’s allergic to kindness.”


They reached room 204. Maya felt the nerves creeping back in, but Brielle nudged her with a wink. “See? You already survived the worst part: walking in. The rest is just passing notes and pretending to understand Shakespeare.”


As Maya stepped into the classroom, she realized something had shifted. She wasn’t alone.


And maybe, just maybe, today wouldn’t be so bad after all.