I'm sitting at the kitchen table, spooning cereal into my mouth as Charlie suddenly comes hurdling down the stairs and into the room, a panicked expression on his face.

"Did Dad make any coffee before he left?" he asks me, and I nod, gesturing to the coffee pot on the counter.

"Thank God," he sighs, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring almost all of the remaining coffee into it.

"You want any?" he asks me, and I shake my head, taking another bite of cereal.

"I hate coffee. It's gross," I tell him, and he rolls his eyes at me.

"You're so picky."

"And you're so overdramatic," I retort. "I mean, seriously; why did you just run down here like a maniac two seconds ago?"

He groans, collapsing back into the cabinets. "I have a math test today and I have no damn clue what in the hell is happening," he whines, drinking a large gulp of coffee.

I give him a doubting look, which he chooses to ignore.

Charlie then grabs an apple from the bowl on the table, stalking out of the door and into the foyer.

"Hurry up. We're going to be late," he calls out to me, so reluctantly I follow him out to the front door.

I then grab my jacket, pulling it on and wincing as my hair gets caught in the zipper per usual.

Charlie is already out the door, not even bothering with a jacket or anything of the sort, so I grab my backpack, double checking that all the zippers are shut and heading out the door.

"Great, let's go," Charlie says in a rush, shutting the door behind me and quickly turning the key in the lock.

I've never seen Charlie so concerned about being on time, and I'm the one usually rushing us out the door. This morning is certainly an odd turn of events.

He unlocks the car with a click of a button, hurriedly climbing into the drivers seat and starting up the engine. I open the door, sitting down in my seat and pulling my bag into my lap before turning to Charlie.

"Why are you so on-edge?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I told you already," he responds dryly. "I'm worried about that test."

"Since when do you care about grades?" I question and when he doesn't have a good response, I immediately know something else is up.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me," I sigh, staring out the side window as Charlie pulls out of the driveway.

I really should look into learning how to drive, but the thought of it just makes me anxious.

"I wasn't planning on it," he smiles, not saying anything else to me for the rest of the ride.

At quiet moments like these, where the only things around me are buildings whizzing by my view through the window or the soft hum of the radio, I find myself daydreaming and overanalyzing everything.

Today's spiral of thoughts seems to be revolving around Bryce.

When I really think about it, it's surprising that he said anything to me at all last night. I'm expecting him to ignore me all day and then some, because knowing him he probably regretted everything as soon as he stepped into his dad's fancy car.

I get it, because I'm the same way. I say something personal and then instantly wish I had just kept it to myself.

For months after The Incident, my parents forced me to go to therapy and talk to a professional in hopes of helping me in whatever way they possibly could. I can now see why they did, as it must have hurt them to see their precious daughter so broken down and weak, but the therapy sessions just frustrated me and made things worse.

I didn't like talking about it and I still don't.

I understand how lucky I am that something worse didn't come from it, and that I was saved when I was, but it all just kills me, internally of course.

When we finally arrive at school, I see Jordan sitting on the stairs by the main entrance for some reason. He's texting on his phone, and doesn't look up until he hears my approaching footsteps.

He promptly stands up, waiting for Charlie and I to catch up to him before actually walking up the stairs.

"Why were you sitting outside?" I ask him as he opens the school's door, holding it open long enough for Charlie and I to step through.

"It's way too early and nobody's here yet," he explains, and that's when I look at the time for the first time since my alarm went off this morning.

It's only 8:13. Class doesn't even start until 9:00. Why was Charlie in this much of a rush?

"You said we were going to be late!" I exclaim, poking Charlie in the stomach with my finger.

"Whatever. It's your fault for not checking the time earlier," he defends, before turning on his heel and promptly walking away.

Jordan and I watch him for a moment, before we both slowly turn to each other.

"He's avoiding someone," he observes, and I have to agree with him.

"For sure. Who do you think that may be?" I ask, and he shrugs, leading us away to our lockers where Charlie has already taken off too.

"Isn't it painfully obvious?" a voice behind us chimes in, and I spin around to find Satan himself standing behind me.

Well, not literally, but they seem to have similar personality traits to one another.

"How many times are you just going to pop up behind me and just join in on the conversation?" I ask, turning back around and crossing my arms.

Bryce gives me a ridiculous smiles, before walking straight past Jordan and I.

Rude.

"I'll be bugging you until I'm at Columbia, darling," he calls out behind me.

Jordan looks at Bryce then back to me. "There's no way you're going to Columbia," he says. and although I can only see the side of Bryce's face at this angle, I know he's enjoying this.

"Of course I'm going to Columbia. Unless I'd like to be disowned by both my father and grandfather, that is," Bryce says slyly, before continuing to walk down the hallway.

He goes to right where the hallway forks off into two smaller halls, which is towards the tenth grade lockers, not the twelfth grade lockers.

"You're going the wrong way!" I call out behind him, and he pauses in his tracks.

"Yeah. Of course I am," he says quietly. He then silently turns and walks right down the correct hallway.

As soon as Bryce is out of earshot, Jordan huffs.

"I really don't like that guy. It's like he has a permanent stick up his ass or something," he comments and I laugh.

We head to the lockers, and I find Bryce and Charlie sitting on the floor leaning against the wall.

It turns out that Jordan was correct in saying that nobody has showed up here yet, which is surprising as it's only Tuesday and people shouldn't be energy drained for the week yet already. I unlock my locker easily, throwing my coat in and grabbing the binders I need for this morning. I'm pretty sure I'm the only kid in my grade that still likes to have a separate, organized binder for each class.

I shut the door just as an excited Ryan comes walking in, Daniel at his side.

"Guess what?" Ryan asks excitedly, grinning as he walks over to Jordan and I. We don't even have to play along until he answers his own question.

"My parents said we can go down to the cottage for the weekend!" he smiles.

It's a bit of a tradition for us to go down to Ryan's parents' cottage, which is a whole mansion, for the weekend as a bonding sort of experience. As much as I hate parties, I still always get dragged along, and I have to admit that I do still have fun.

"We can have the cottage for the weekend?" my brother asks, standing up off the floor and moving away from us. Bryce looks like he has no intention on moving though.

Ryan nods animatedly. "Everybody's able to come this time. Dan told me that you guys have a soccer game Saturday morning but you guys could head down after instead of Friday night like the rest of us," he compromises, and Charlie thinks for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm in. I'll talk to our parents so Lex and I can go," he says, and I smile. thanking him. I'd rather not deal with our protective parents over matters like this.

I hear a rustling behind me, and I find Bryce taking his jacket off to shove it into his locker, revealing a dark shirt that he's rolled up to his elbows, leaving his tattoos on show. I've never seen a kid our age with a full sleeve like that, but it really, really suits him.

Charlie glances towards Ryan as if to ask a question, and Ryan shrugs as if they can read each other's minds.

"Hey Bryce," Charlie cuts in, and Bryce looks towards him, unimpressed.

"What?"

"Do you want to come with us for the weekend?" he asks, remaining calm.

"Not really," Bryce answers, seemingly unfazed, and that makes Charlie laugh.

"Better question; are you going to come with us?"

Bryce thinks for a moment, before nodding. "I suppose."

Charlie let's out a sigh of relief. "Great," he smiles, and Bryce laughs to himself at my brother's joy.

There's a noticeable change in the atmosphere as Jasmine walks into the hallway. This obviously wouldn't be an issue, except for the fact that she instantly walks over to Daniel, kissing him on the cheek.

And that's when I notice the way Charlie is watching them, envy clear in his eyes.

So this is what Jasmine was talking about on the phone last night. She's torn between my brother, her junior high crush, and Daniel.

Just fantastic. Can't wait for all the drama that's sure to unfold after this whole situation.

Mateo walks in shortly after Jasmine, and the rest of the school seems to finally be showing up as well as the hallway begins filling up quickly, cramped per usual. He walks straight past Bryce without a second glance, and I don't even want to know what they're bickering about this time around.

"I'm going to head to class," I tell everybody, really just wanting to flee from the awkward situation at hand. I get a collective nod from everybody, and just like that I head off on my way.

I'm well aware of the footsteps following right behind me. I ignore Bryce until he reaches for my arm, pulling me to a halt.

"What's up with you today?" he asks, and I'm about to answer until his eyes meet mine and I'm suddenly lost.

The look he's giving me is so sincere which, comes off as a surprise to me, and it's even more overwhelming to feel his fingers tracing small circles on my forearm. I quickly notice how rough the tops of his fingers are, and I grab his hand to closer examine. He must catch on to what I'm looking at as he smirks at me.

"Blossom, I play guitar. The strings leave calluses on my fingertips. It's really not that big of a deal," he says, following me into the music room for our first class on Tuesdays, voice.

A few students are already seated by the time we show up, including Camila. Today she has her hair in a high bun on the top of her head, not a single flyaway, and she's wearing a fitted deep blue sweater dress, coincidentally in the exact same shade of blue as Bryce's shirt.

I momentarily wonder if they had been texting and coordinated this, but quickly have to remind myself that we're all around seventeen, not twelve, which is why it would be stupid to purposely wear the same outfits.

Bryce takes the seat directly next to her before I can, and so I sit on the other side of him.

They begin a conversation right away, and I don't bother joining in.

The bell eventually rings, and after Ms. Johnson takes attendance before walking over to the piano and sitting down on the long bench.

She briefs us all on how she doesn't give written final exams, and instead has her students perform instead. She mentions that she also chose some group selections for us, and so she then stands up and begins passing out a few pieces.

We run through some vocal warm-ups that Bryce actually participates in, and I wish everybody else were just a little quieter so I could actually hear his true voice.

Perhaps I should find his YouTube channel later, taking a page from his book of stalker tendencies.

When I then look back to Bryce, I find him watching Camila closely.

It's so tempting to ask him what about her he finds so interesting but I'm being ridiculous.

Why am I jealous? I have no reason to be, as I don't like Bryce that way.

The class passes by quickly. I'm in a hurry to just get to my next class, French, which means I get a break from all of my friends for a solid chunk of time.

"You know where you're going?" I ask Bryce as we step out of the room, and he nods.

"Yes, thanks. I'll see you at lunch. Bye Blossom," he says to me before he turns away, quickly stepping through the crowd.

"Hey Cam, wait up!" he calls out after Camila, who stops, laughs, and then proceeds to walk with him all the way out of my line of view.

They're on nickname basis already. Whoop-de-doo.

Get a hold of yourself, Lexi.

My French teacher was kind enough to give us a pop quiz today, and I haven't seen a collective group of teenagers look so horrified in a long time. A few kids had full-on breakdowns as soon as we all noticed that the whiteboard clearly stated that we were to have a test today, and I caught the teacher snickering from behind her desk as she watched the whole scene play out in front of her.

I finish the quiz early and so I get up to hand it to my teacher who's still sitting behind her desk, now watching everybody extremely closely to make sure people aren't cheating at all. I don't know how they would other than texting one another as it was just a simple check on reading comprehension.

I'm getting many glares as I walk back to my seat seeing as I'm the first person to finish, so I just pull a book out of my backpack, hiding behind the pages as I read until the end of class.

The lunch bell finally goes off and I'm thrilled, but that boost of joy is diminished as I'm just getting halfway down the hallway.

There's a dug on my arm and I find a frazzled Jasmine standing right behind me, her blue hair falling in her face.

"We have a situation."

Her words are rushed as she grabs my arm, dragging me down the hallway to our lockers, the opposite of the cafeteria which is where I was heading.

"Woah, hold up. What's wrong?" I ask her, but she doesn't bother stopping even as she's answering me.

"Please, just come. They're both about to do something really stupid," she explains vaguely.

I follow her without a second thought.