When I was five, my parents took me to the Louvre in Paris, France. Even though it was over a decade ago, I still remember standing with my back against the velvet rope in front of the Mona Lisa and posing for my parents with a ridiculously cheesy smile.

I got lost that day. Inside the museum.

My parents thought it would be a good idea to sign up for a guided tour instead of exploring it freely for ourselves, but I was never one that liked to move at other people's paces. I got bored rather quickly, so, when my parents weren't paying attention, I let the group of other tourists slip ahead before running in the opposite direction.

I casually strolled through the halls of the museum, slipping easily through clusters of people and blending in with the crowds. I stopped at places that interested me and continued past exhibits that bored me. I went up and down the stairs, exploring the museum to my hearts content, faintly aware I would be in trouble when my parents eventually noticed I was missing and found me.

Somewhere along the way, it occurred to me that I was more or less lost, with no idea of my own location, never mind my parents'. But that didn't stop me from continuing through the halls and rooms of the museum.

There was one exhibit in that I remember really loving. The Ancient Greek statues.

For some reason, this wing of the museum had very few people, and there was this strange quietness about it that lured me in.

I walked through the rows of the statues, pausing for the ones that interested me.

Every time I reflect on the statues now, it occurs to me how each one was strangely erotic– not that I knew it back then. The one of Cupid saving Psyche with a kiss (which I guess makes sense why it was so erotic), The Three Graces, Hermaphrodite sleeping, Perseus and Andromeda– they all had this romantic charm to them that I never fully understood.

Learning about Greek history in middle school was a rough awakening. The stories behind those statues were a lot more gruesome than portrayed by how lovely and pristinely white they were.

My family went back to Paris last year. Walking through the Louvre again was different. Now, those statues held a duality to them. For every ounce of romance or sensuality that they held, they would also possess a wicked story, filled with hate and anger and tragedy.

That was the first time I realized it: you can't have love without also having hate. And you can't really know what it means to love someone unless you also know what it's like to hate someone.

The two polar opposites of the world. I thought I had them all figured out.

*

*

*

"Maddie, do you know how much it drains my gas tank to come pick you up every morning?" Luna continued, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other waving a finger in arbitrary motions toward the backseat where I sat, only half-paying attention to her semi-weekly rant. "All I'm saying is you have your own license and your own car– use them."

"What about Zach? You pick him up every morning," I retorted. "And he lives further away from you than I do."

"Yeah but you don't reimburse her like I do," Zach piped up from the front seat, turning to face me with a cheeky grin.

Zach: Luna's boyfriend. The definition of a hot jock; nothing more, nothing less. He was particularly favored by the cheerleaders at our school because of his status as the captain of the baseball team, but that didn't seem to matter to him. His relationship with Luna was probably the main reason our friend group had stayed together all these years.

I snorted, "Oh yeah? How exactly do you pay her back?"

"You sure you want the details?" He asked with a raised brow. "I think I can show you better than I can tell you." I gagged and managed to shake my head, earning a laugh from Zach at my reaction.

"Oh I know," Luna cheered, refusing to drop our earlier topic. "Why doesn't Zach set you up with one of his teammates? Then, they can drive you to school, and we can go on cute little double dates, so it's a win-win."

Although I could have said it, I bit back the comment that I could easily get a boyfriend or girlfriend on my own without her help. I wasn't necessarily the biggest social butterfly, but I could pull out the charms when I needed to, and my looks carried me through wherever my flirting failed. Right now, having an active love life just wasn't high on my list of concerns.

Instead, I rolled my eyes and responded, "I'd rather 'reimburse' you the same way Zach does than be set up one of his meat-brained baseball buds."

Zach seemed to find that answer appealing, and jokingly voiced his approval of it, which earned him a slap on the chest from Luna as a reprimand. Luckily, none of us had to endure each other much longer, as she pulled into the parking lot of our school: Valor Academy. A ridiculous name for a ridiculous school. I could count a list of reasons I hated this place; then again, that can probably said for every high school in America.

"Madeline!" I had barely closed the car door shut behind me before I heard my name being shouted at me from across the parking. I turned in the direction of the school building, and found Dylan running at me, full speed.

Dylan was also a friend of Zach's, but our parents used to work together, so I've known him forever. We grew up together– his parents had become second to my own after countless joint-family breakfasts and sleepovers at his house if my parents weren't home– and he became kind of like a brother. As annoying as he can be on occasion, he's kind of like the moral compass of the group– most of the time.

"Madeline!" Dylan panted, grabbing onto my arms for support as he skidded to a stop in front of me. His dark blue eyes scattered around the parking lot, carefully scanning the cars and the other people hanging around the lot. His shaggy brown hair that was more than slightly disheveled and the frantic look in his eyes could mean only one thing: he was running from a girl.

"Yes?" I asked, impatiently, checking my nonexistent watch for the time.

"I need you to cover for me."

I sighed dramatically to let on to how big of a hinderance his antics would be causing me before rolling my eyes. "Who did you piss off this time?"

He ignored my disdain and spoke quickly, "I broke it off with Stacy DeMoirs last night and she's pretty pissed off. She's been chasing after me all morning. I need somewhere to hide before she sees me again."

Every time Dylan gets in trouble with one of his flings, it somehow becomes my responsibility to hide him or cover for him when the girl inevitably asks me why he stopped calling or where he could be found. Some of the things I have had to do to hide him, I've had to mentally block out of my memory for the sake of our friendship.

"Dylan this is the third time this month," I groaned. "And it's the 7th."

He nodded his head and hummed, "I hear you, I do, but I also can hear her shrieking my name, so help me and think of it as community service."

I made a face at him, "You're disgusting."

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Now hide me– she's coming."

I shoved Dylan into the back seat of Luna's car and muttered that one of these days I was going to let him be caught. I quickly shut the door and leaned on the car, making sure to block the window, just as the sound of sharp pair of heels clicking to my right pierced my senses. I stayed quiet as Stacy made a beeline for me, the pungent smell of her Chanel perfume arriving before she did.

She stopped right in front of me with her lips pursed and eyebrows narrowed. "Maddie," She said, addressing me bitterly.

"Yes, Stacy?" I asked innocently, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Where is he?"

"Where's who?"

"Dylan," She said impatiently.

"Dylan O'Brien?" I hummed, "I assume in New York, though he stopped taking my calls once I told him I knew you."

Her top lip twitched with anger. "Don't play with me, Madeline. Where is Dylan?"

"Stacy, you can't find him, and you've looked everywhere for him. Has it occurred to you that maybe he doesn't want to be found by you?"

"Please," She scoffed. "You're just jealous that he's never liked you. What's that saying– always the bridesmaid never the bride?"

"You got me, Stacy. I'm so jealous of you," I let out a snort, finding it difficult to contain my laughter. "Especially when I slept over his house this weekend, and you didn't, and I slept in the same bed as him, and you didn't, and I laid next to him while he was wearing nothing but his boxers, and you didn't. My first thought was, 'God, I wish I could be Stacy right now!'"

I watched as her hands balled into fists at her sides, her knuckles going white. I did everything in my power to suppress the smirk spreading across my lips as she trudged off further into the parking lot, steam practically spouting out of her ears.

I waited until she was too far in the distance for me to make out anything other than her red hair before opening the car door for Dylan to get out.

"Thanks, Madeline," He said, smiling cheekily as he patted my shoulder. "It's been a pleasure!" I watched as he dashed back in the direction of the school, checking over his shoulder every so often for Stacy.

I rolled my eyes, but trailed behind him, trudging into the hellhole. High school: what's not to love?

* * *

I sat down in my first class a few minutes before the bell would ring, surprised to see Jason already here. He had his head resting on his desk, arms folded around his head in an effort to tune out the girls and guys trying to get his attention.

Jason is the poster child for a perfect surfer dude. He had moved from California during middle school, and his frequent trips back home over the summer have left him with a golden, year-round tan and long bleach blonde hair. The girls went crazy for his look, and loved even more that they couldn't have him; Jason is about as straight as a circle, but it didn't stop anyone from hitting on him– or seeking him out as a 'gay best friend.'

I laughed as I flicked his forehead to garner his attention and the response I got was an annoyed groan. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," I greeted. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on time for class today?"

He pulled himself up from the desk, leaning back against the chair as he stretched out his limbs. "So remember when the principal found me and that guy in the empty classroom after school last week?"

I blinked. "How could I forget?"

"Well, it turns out he didn't enjoy the free show, so he called my mom. Let's just say she wasn't exactly thrilled with his report." I stifled a laugh after taking note of his frown and tone of voice. "Now, she's driving me to and from school every day until I can be 'trusted' again."

I chuckled, "That's cute. Ask her if we can carpool. My mom'll bring us on Tuesdays and Thursdays if your mom does the rest of the week."

He shot me a middle finger before slamming his head back down on the desk. It didn't last long though; the teacher walked in soon after, and dropped a stack of books on Jason's desk to wake him.

Valor Academy had some sort of reputation as one of the best schools in the state, which always surprised me considering how little the teachers seemed to care about what went on in their classrooms. Maybe it was because everyone in this town was rich enough to pay their way through school or at least hire tutors. Either way, as soon as the teacher had their back turned toward the whiteboard, the student-side of the room looked more like a circus than a class.

Jason and I quickly grew bored of his lecture on the presidency of Andrew Johnson, the first 'common man' as president, as it was mostly rudimentary anyways, and began exchanging series of text messages, which mostly consisted of unhinged memes that made zero to no sense.

About twenty minutes into the period, the classroom door swung open, and as the teacher's head began turning, everyone quickly settled down in their seats, flipping to a random page in their textbooks and trying their best to look like they were deep in the process of taking notes.

I rolled my eyes, knowing full well there was only one student in the class unaccounted for that who have the audacity to bust open the door while aware he was almost a half hour late to class.

"Here we go," I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at the boy in the door with a scowl on my face.

"Cut him a break," Jason whispered. "He hasn't even entered the room yet."

"And yet, somehow, I'm already annoyed."

The teacher cleared his throat, "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Daniels."

Carson Daniels.

Valor Academy is a large school, but I could guarantee that every student and teacher knew who he was. Of course, there are reasons for that, namely the obvious: he's hot. Sure, I hate him with my entire being and every time he opens his mouth I have to resist the urge to slap him, but even I could admit that he had the looks of a model– and he knows it, too. But beyond his bright green eyes, gorgeous brown hair, and Greek god-like muscles, there was seriously nothing to him.

Carson, unfortunately, has been best friends with Dylan for as long as we had all been a friend group, which, of course, stuck Dylan right in the middle of a lot of our fights.

For the most part, Luna and I were friends with the guys because we genuinely liked them, despite their somewhat player ways. Jason is just about the funniest person you could meet and rarely ever filters his ludicrous behavior, Zach has the biggest soft spot for Luna and spends his weekends coaching his little sister's softball team, and Dylan gives the best advice when you need him to.

And it wasn't like Luna and I were the 'chosen ones' either. Our friend group started the same way most do: we all got stuck together. It seemed like too much effort after that to go off and try to make other friends, so, for the past five or so years, this was us.

Carson, on the contrary, has nothing special going for him like the other guys do. He just got by on his good looks and witty remarks that, for some reason, made every other girl in this school swoon.

The corner of Carson's lips tugged up into a sinister smile as he waved innocently to the teacher before strolling into the classroom and tossing his late slip on the teacher's desk. He took his seat in the back of the room, quickly catching the attention of the girls sitting in the seats closest to him. The teacher looked as though he wanted to say more, but decided against it with the shake of his head, and turned back to the white board.

"Come on, let's go," Jason whispered, sliding out of his seat, taking his untouched notebook and pencil with him.

I groaned and sent him a look of disdain, "We don't have to sit with him."

"Well I want to sit with him, and if you want to sit with me, then you're gonna sit with him."

"He seems a little preoccupied," I said in disgust, watching as a girl practically climbed into his lap. "Maybe we should leave him be."

Jason rolled his eyes and shoved me into the seat next to him and Carson.

"Hey man," Jason greeted, nudging Carson's arm.

Carson turned away from the gaggle of girls he was currently entertaining, the signature smirk on his face as one of the girls reached out and looped her hand around his arm. I think I might have thrown up in my mouth a little.

"What's up?" Carson responded, not bothering to shove off the girl.

"My anger levels," I grumbled. Carson caught it and acknowledged me, with narrowed eyes, "Don't you have a bridge to hobble under, troll?"

I scowled, "I think you're mistaking your relatives for mine."

His smile dropped and the muscle in his jaw locked. "Sorry, I must have gotten confused. I had hopes that the ugly, homeless look you've got going on wasn't a personal choice, but rather an unfortunate inheritance."

I think the reason our fighting worked so well was because we seemed to have perfected it. There wasn't really anything he could say to me that would actually dig deep enough to hurt me, and, though I've tried to prove otherwise, I think the same could be said about my insults toward him.

A lot of it came with growing up enough to realize that he had no effect on me– a lesson that hadn't always been apparent before puberty came through and gave me a hell of a much-needed glow up. He could call me ugly and homeless-looking, but I took pride in maintaining my appearance, and I certainly had better fashion taste than most.

"Please," I scoffed. "Your ugly face is literally the reason I went bi."

"And yet, somehow, you've managed to strike out with both girls and guys," He responded, the smirk reappearing on his face. "I think that says more about your face than mine."

I had barely surged forward before I felt Jason's hand wrap around my arm, shoving me back down in my seat. Jason sent me a look telling me not to start something during the middle of class. I gave Carson a final glare, who seemed a little too smug about having the final word this time.

Jason groaned, "Do you two have to be so pugnacious? It's not even 8:30 yet."

I shrugged. It's not like I tried to start fights with him, it was just easy. Our friends had probably grown tired of all of the antics and most likely didn't remember when all of this fighting first started, but to me, it was always this way. Just seeing his face some days was enough to make my blood boil.

I hated him. Always have, always will.

Jason huffed, "Today is going to be a long day."