I was trapped in the Twilight Zone. People were squealing and taking selfies, girls were passing out in their seats. Classmates tagged us on social media; likes, comments, and followers flooded in. I turned off my phone so it wouldn't die, burned by the Cleopatra glares of girls who noticed when Tyler borrowed a pencil or so much as smiled in my direction. I showed him to his classes and helped him find his locker. We skipped lunch in the cafeteria and hid in the library, where Tyler could eat in peace. We were on our way to the next class when we bumped into Quinn, walking the opposite direction.

She was wearing my Champs sweater and a black pair of artfully ripped jeans, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

Her steps halted as we approached. I had shared plenty of stories featuring Tyler, so Quinn didn't react like some love-sick groupie, but she didn't smile either.

"Hey." She nodded at Tyler, who nodded back. "You weren't at lunch."

"We were hiding from the mobs," I explained.

"Well, I've got home Home Ec," she said, edging her way around us. "We're ironing clothes and balancing checkbooks. Y'know, real life-changing shit. Catch you after school, A."

I watched her go, mystified by the sudden exit.

"What did you do?" I demanded, rounding on Tyler.

"What do you mean?"

"She hates you."

He shrugged. "It's rare, but it happens."

"Do you give a shit about anything, Tyler?"

"You should know the answer to that, Aaliyah." He walked away too, leaving me stuck somewhere in the middle.

***

At Harbor Village High, classes functioned on block scheduling, which meant every week was split between black days and silver days. If one week had three silver days and two black, the following week would have three black days and two silver. Today was a silver week, on a silver day, which meant my final class was a free period.

During some free periods I went home early, other days I volunteered at the hospital with Aunt Trina or lent my free time to the cheerleaders, helping out the girls in remedial cheering. Most of them were freshmen, in danger of being cut from the Angels and hoping to impress Robin long enough to make it through football season. Securing a seat at the cheerleaders' table solidified your status at Harbor Village High. As a former member of Robin's clique, I knew the power of the cheerleaders' table.

If I had known Tyler had P.E. at the same time I was coaching, I would have had the girls meet me at the football field and not inside the gymnasium. Mr. Newton's fourth period class was running laps on the second floor; Tyler was on his second round, sprinting past the same classmates still jogging the first.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. As captain of the squad, Robin ran a tight ship. The boys and girls weren't normally this chatty, but nothing superseded the sweaty, gorgeous popstar jogging circles over their heads. I clapped my hands, vying for the attention of the ragtag group of students gathered before me. Some were tinkering with their P.E. uniforms, rolling up the waistbands of their black gym shorts, tying their shirts back with scrunchies.

Finally, I was able to gather their attention enough for the two-two-one pyramid. We assembled on the mat, performing the routine's opening steps.

We're angels

We're proud

We're gorgeous and we're loud

Go black!

Go silver!

Our team will deliver!

Still chanting, the squad assembled for the last stunt—the two-two-one pyramid. The first two girls were lifted in the air. Since I was the only one brave enough to top the pyramid I was lifted next, my stomach wobbling with the usual butterflies as I was raised high in the air. Pom-poms to the ceiling, I joined the squad, reciting the final words of the chant.

They're vicious

They're mean

They're who you came to see

GO-O-O-O-O RAVENS!

We had practiced the routine religiously; it should have been failproof. But I knew things had taken a turn when the two girls holding my legs began to wobble.

The Angels' screams ricocheted across the gym as the pyramid came tumbling down. It wasn't my first fall—I knew how to land, but I hit the mat hard, ears ringing, vision faded to a pinhole.

"Aaliyah, are you okay?"

"Oh-my-gawd-she's-dead!"

I pushed onto my knees, accepting the hand stretched before me. Lifted to my feet, I took a moment to catch my breath, bruised but not broken.

"Looks like you're in over your head, Aaliyah." Only Robin would pick you up just to kick you down. "That, was an embarrassment—you're all embarrassing!" she snapped, dismissing the squad with the swat of one manicured hand.

"They're distracted," I said, hands on my hips as I caught my breath. "The B squad is getting better. They just need more time."

"Or, maybe, they need someone who can actually teach them."

Considering how I was literally going to school for choreography, this stung. "It's only been a few months, Robin."

"I'm converting the B team. They won't be doing stunts, just dancing."

I frowned. "Okay, well, I'll—"

"You're not doing anything, Aaliyah. Tyler is."

"What? Since when—"

"He volunteered this morning. And no offense, you're good, but Tyler's an international star. You two aren't exactly on the same level. You and Tyler just aren't... compatible. No offense. I really hope this doesn't mess with your transcripts."

"Nope, not at all." I leaned down and scooped up my duffel bag, nonchalant as I slipped it over my shoulder. Robin thrived on attention. The best way to retaliate was by doing nothing at all. "You and Tyler have fun."

***

I left the gym, simmering. Eric caught up with me a few minutes later, as I hurried down the concrete flight of steps leading to the courtyard.

I tried to shake him off, but he caught up to me beneath the giant garden trellis. It was covered in twisting ivy, whose tendrils dangled wistfully overhead.

"You fell pretty hard." He took my duffel bag and set it aside. "I'm just checking on you, don't trip." Eric tested my memory by asking silly questions, then used the phone on his flashlight to check my pupils. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm walking, aren't I?" I glanced away, feeling stupid for landing on my ass and then having it handed to me by Robin.

"Look, Robin was out of bounds for what she did—but she wasn't wrong. You and Tyler aren't on the same level—you're a way better dancer than him."

"Tyler's got credibility. It makes sense, her choosing him over me. Honestly? I'm jealous." I sighed, gripping my arms. "Tyler set the bar. How do I compete with that?"

"You are the competition. Does he even know how dope you are? And fine?" He leaned close, lip between his teeth. "So, so fine..."

Eric wasn't boyfriend material, but kissing was his specialty. Our lips glided in imperfect harmony, my fingers pressed to his muscled chest as his hands squeezed my waist. I fell into his kiss, heart soaring as he lifted me off my feet.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

I nearly lost my balance, seeing Tyler, just standing there, hands in his jacket as he watched in disgust.

"Using her to get to me?" he continued, shaking his head at Eric. "You're trash, bro."

I held Eric back, saying his name in warning. "Not here. Go, okay? Please."

"For you," he replied, sizing Tyler with a dark, threatening gaze. "Next time I won't walk away." He kissed my cheek, cutting a wide path around Tyler as he headed back towards the school.

Tyler glanced over his shoulder, making sure Eric was really gone. His Ravens t-shirt was still damp from his run, his hair wet like he'd just stepped from the shower.

"Why?" I demanded, hands raised in helpless anger.

"You didn't see his face, Aaliyah, he was gloating. He kissed you because he saw me standing there. He doesn't care about you. You're just some prize he can win."

I stepped back from his biting words, glancing at my sneakers so he wouldn't see how much it hurt.

"I'm not stupid, I know what he wants," I said, in the quiet tones of a mouse. "Just because you're home doesn't mean you can tell me what to do."

"I saw you fall. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm not sorry for looking out for you—"

"No, you're sorry for interfering with my life, yet again. Why are you coaching the B team, Tyler?"

His face filled with genuine confusion. "Hey, Robin asked me, okay? The only reason I said yes was to make you happy."

"Why would you think that would make me happy?"

"Because it would show you that I'm sticking around, that I do give a shit." Tyler strode forward, taking Eric's place beneath the trellis. "I have feelings," he said, with puppy-dog eyes.

I exhaled, arms folded. "You can have the B team. It's nice, what you're doing for them."

Tyler flashed his dimpled grin. "Good. I want you to be happy."

A heavy silence passed. A couple of students passed, on their way to the parking lot. Tyler didn't seem to notice them glancing over their shoulders and whispering to each other. His gaze was planted on my face.

"I'm not trying to interfere with your life," he promised.

"Except you are, Tyler. If you want to be in my life, then I need you to accept the people who are already in it. That includes Quinn and Eric. You don't have to like them, just accept that I do."

Tyler blew a deep breath, shoulders rising in annoyance. "I'll behave. Mostly. Let me walk you to your car."

"Hands where I can see them," I warned, but I didn't stop him when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

***