The air was cooler than usual for late August. Maya stood on the front steps of the school, her sketchbook clutched tightly in one arm, watching students pour through the double doors. New faces, old faces. Everyone taller, louder, and somehow different.


Junior year.


She took a deep breath, pulling her jacket closer. It wasn’t just the cold. It was the nerves, the expectations. This was supposed to be the year—where things started to matter. College fairs, serious decisions, futures looming. But for now, she just wanted to make it through the first day.


“Hey!”


Maya turned, grinning as Brielle came up beside her, looking like she’d stepped out of a style blog. Crisp jeans, perfect curls, and a lanyard around her neck that screamed “student council.”


“You ready?” Brielle asked.


Maya laughed. “As I’ll ever be.”


They stepped inside together, the noise washing over them—slamming lockers, laughter, teachers calling out reminders. Maya’s schedule was tucked in her back pocket, but she already had it memorized. Art block third period. Her favorite.


As they walked to their lockers, Brielle launched into a recap of her summer—student council retreats, tutoring, a brief but dramatic flirtation with a guy named Jonah who turned out to be a disaster. Maya listened, laughed, nodded. But part of her was waiting.


Waiting for the text.


Her phone buzzed just as she twisted her lock open. One glance at the screen, and her heart did a little flip.


Zaria: Back in town. Might stop by today. Not ready for a full return though. I’ll find you.


Maya stared at the message, her fingers tingling.


She hadn’t seen Zaria in months—not since the tearful goodbye last spring when Zaria’s mom moved her across state lines. They’d stayed in touch, sure, but it wasn’t the same. The idea of her being back—here, now—felt surreal.


“You okay?” Brielle asked, raising an eyebrow.


Maya pocketed her phone. “Yeah. Just... surprised.”


As they headed to first period, Maya took one more look around the hallway. It was the same school, same lockers, same linoleum floors. But something about this year already felt different.


Like the ground was shifting beneath her feet.


And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.