The next morning came quicker than I expected. Sunlight slipped through the curtains in my new room. Downstairs, cabinets opened and closed. Coffee started brewing. I pulled on jeans and a plain black shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and headed down. Ryan and Lila were already at the kitchen table. Cereal bowls sat out, and a speaker played low in the background.
“Ready for this?” Ryan asked, sliding a bowl my way.
“As ready as I’ll get,” I said, sitting down. My stomach felt tight. School. After all this time, it sounded strange.
Lila smiled across the table. “You’ll be fine. Just act normal.”
We finished breakfast quick, then piled into Ryan’s car. The drive to Beacon Hills High took about fifteen minutes. Streets passed by with teenagers and youths pulling up in cars and bikes. Th
