ELOISE
The matte-black sports car rolled through the heavy, ornate iron gates of Oakridge High at exactly 7:42 AM.
For the first time in five years, I wasn't walking the long, dusty coastal road alone, my face buried in a faded canvas jacket. I was sitting in the front passenger seat. The interior of the car smelled of fresh rain, expensive leather, and Mike’s signature cedarwood cologne. In the back seat, Chad and Jake were carrying on their usual chaotic, unbothered post-weekend banter, tossing a spare basketball between them and arguing about a play from Friday night’s game.
But as the car pulled into the senior parking lot, the reality of the morning hit me like a bucket of ice water. Hundreds of students were milling around the courtyard, and the moment Mike’s recognizable car e
