My love story untold

They laugh, lightening the mood. Though I controlled myself earlier, everyone knows that I never back down from James. Sure, he's the school's beloved star hockey player, but I'll retaliate when provoked. It's the reason why our personal attacks on each other never seem to end. Fighting is our thing. Our feud was established when it was decided that we'd both exist on the same planet. In fact, I should have been prepared for a sneak attack like that trip in the hall. I'd let my guard down and it won't happen again. "I'm here! I'm here!" Rapid steps approach as Carol runs toward us in her Adidas joggers, bright blue cleats in her arms and her bag half falling off her shoulder. The best way to describe Carol Gonsalves is chaotic. She's the friend who's either late, underdressed, or says something completely inappropriate out of the blue. She joined our friend group in the fifth grade when her family immigrated from Goa and has been my partner in pranks ever since. I don't think I'd terrorize James as effectively without her. "Ha! Told y'all," she says, pointing a finger at us. "I was here in less than three minutes. What did I miss?" Jasmine says, "The public humiliation of Lara." "What do you mean?" Carol mumbles, holding a hair tie between her front teeth as she gathers her long black locks into a bun. "Let's just say that Lara and James's dynamic has not changed," Kiera says. I let out a large breath. "Unfortunately, that entails him tripping me on the first day of school." After Carol finishes wrapping the elastic around her mass of hair, she punches me in the shoulder, expecting an interesting story. "I came too late! Bro, what did you do to him?" "Nothing." I shrug. "No, seriously! What did you do? Did you twist his arm? Did you kick him in the—" "I ignored him." She stops chuckling immediately and frowns, nostrils flaring. "What happened to you on vacation that you suddenly turned to the good side?" Carol grips my shoulders and shakes me back and forth until I feel like I'm about to hurl. "Get yourself together, woman! I did not raise you like this!" "Dude, calmes-toi, I don't want to start my day off with negative vibes," I say, and she pretends to wipe a bead of sweat off her forehead. "Now forget about him. What were you guys up to while I was gone?' Their eyes widen like criminals that have been spotted, like deer caught in headlights. Jasmine fidgets with her fingers, Kiera bites her lip, and Carol looks ready to bolt even though she just got here. "Is it about Mark?" Mark was a guy from the soccer team, and he obviously liked Carol. They'd been hanging out for a while now, but I wasn't sure if their friendship would become something more. Did something happen over the summer? No one replies. They're not telling me something. "I'm not telling her," Jasmine squeaks. Kiera shakes her head, too, following Jasmine's lead. They both look at Carol, knowing that she always does the best at explaining situations. She approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder, frightened eyes becoming round circles. Not that I'm a scary person . . . just a bit unpredictable. "Don't freak out on us but . . ." There's a new commotion behind us, distracting me from the conversation and forcing my head to turn. James yells to his friends as they emerge from the other hallway, walking over and greeting them wildly with complex handshakes and backslaps. Meanwhile, the other students stare at them like they're celebrities. In this high school setting, I suppose they are. All it takes is above average physical genetics mixed with athletic ability to create a popular person, right? But if being popular is the same as being well known, then I suppose I'm pretty popular as well. Not because I'm athletic but because James and I almost kill each other on the daily, and if they're looking at him, they're also looking at me. James walks with his crew following closely, drawing the eyes of everyone. Usually in the movies, you'd see the mean girl and her squad, but this is a guy version of that. Imagine a rock song from a 2000s coming of age movie playing in the background. Then imagine the confident Regina George stride. Now mix that with four good-looking student athletes but subtract the problematic attitudes, since James's squad consists of fairly nice people who are unfortunate enough to be friends with the i***t. Among the unlucky, is Mark Medina—James's oldest friend from elementary school and one of mine too. He's cute in the same way that a puppy is, but shy. I always wondered how he ended up being friends with a demon, considering he's a literal angel from the heavens, or as he likes to say, Lara, for the hundredth time, I'm from Peru. To be fair, the top of Machu Picchu is pretty close to the sky. Then there's Daniel Samuels. I can't say much about him because I don't know him all that well. He's the smart one of the group, and besides playing hockey, he's the president of the debate club. He's Black, with long braided cornrows and a charming smile that naturally causes people to gravitate toward him. Less shy than Mark but not as boisterous or obnoxious as James. Lastly, we have Logan Ford, who is neither shy nor bright. I'm not saying this to be mean, but in grade nine geography class he confidently stated that Brazil was located in Europe. There's that, and the fact that he's a literal representation of the stereotypical blue-eyed, blond-haired player that you see in every other Netflix film. He's always been nice to me, but his reputation for going through girls as if the yearbook was a dating checklist has been enough to keep me away. They all have updated looks from when we last saw them in June. Daniel's style has evolved, now playing with more color and pattern; Logan sports a summer tan, a striking contrast to his natural fairness; and Mark has a fresh haircut, chopping off his usual shoulder-length locks. I turn back to my friends, ready to ask about why they're so nervous, when I hear the voice of one of James's squad members. "Babe!" Spinning around so fast that my head could fall off if it wasn't attached to my body, my attention focuses on a certain shy boy now running over to my group. Mark? Carol grins at me shyly as he wraps an arm around her shoulder. She brushes his dark-brown curls away from his green eyes. Nausea threatens to overwhelm me, but I keep my expression under control. "Looks like we're going to be third wheels!" I chirp to Kiera and Jasmine, who don't return my smile or laugh at my joke like they would normally. "Darling!" another guy shouts, causing a cringe to form on my face. Darling? Are we in the 1960s now? Daniel races toward us. Who is he going— He wraps his arms around Kiera and kisses her forehead. Oh my goodness, no. "Honey!" Whipping my head around once more (okay, I did get whiplash this time), I see Logan sprinting toward us. Pushing me out of the way, he attacks Jasmine's face with his own, as if she's in a life-threatening condition and needs immediate CPR. And this is why honey belongs in a beehive and not in a school hallway. What the heck is going on? And where is the nearest trash can so I can vomit? Carol, fine. We all saw that coming. She and Mark have been close for almost five months. Kiera, kind of weird. She's not really the type to date with her overloaded schedule. But Jasmine? Jasmine Zhao is a freaking saint! We all thought she was going to become a nun or something! Can someone fetch me a glass of water? Actually, can you make it holy water? Yet here she is, hand-deep in his blond hair, making out with Logan Ford, the blue-eyed mega player of the school. Don't tell me I missed the good-girl, bad-boy story arc while I was gone. Staring at the three couples for a minute, I consider all the ways that I could chase these boys off with a sledgehammer. Breaking away from the kiss, Jasmine says, "Lara, don't freak out, we can expl—" "What the hell is this?" I shout at the top of my lungs, gesturing at the three members of James's squad who have attached themselves to my best friends like leeches. I look at Carol and Mark, Kiera and Daniel, Jasmine and Logan, and finally at James, who is, thankfully, as confused as I am about this situation. "Guys?" he asks his friends, an eyebrow raised. Mark says, "Sorry, bro, we couldn't reach you for the whole summer. You literally did not reply to our group chat for a month." "Yeah, Lara, you had no signal so . . ." Kiera adds. James and I have the exact same expression on our faces. I don't know if I'm going to go ballistic or if I'm going to faint. I turn to Jasmine. "You too? You told me that you wouldn't date until you graduated!" "I know, I know, but it sort of just,"—she looks lovingly at her boyfriend (gross)—"happened." "You guys are actually committing to a relationship?" James says, and I narrow my eyes at him. Classic James, moving on from one girl to the next as if they're objects. Seeing my repulsed expression, he sticks his hands up and quickly adds, "I'm just kidding, sweetheart, don't be such a buzzkill." Oh, I could kick him right now. Self-control, Lara, self-control. "Oh yeah," he adds. "Sorry about my nonexistent replies in the group chat. My phone actually fell into the ocean, and I just got a new one." "Ocean?" Daniel raises an eyebrow. "You don't notice a lot of things when you're salsa dancing on the deck with a hot girl." James steps forward and back with his eyes closed—a motion that seems like a dance, but I can't call it that. A smile plays on his lips as he thinks back to the event. "Anyway—" I start, but Kiera jumps in before I can continue. "Lara, we'll explain everything to you at lunch. Promise." She gives my right shoulder a reassuring squeeze before grabbing Daniel's hand and doing that nasty, romantic eye-contact thing. Lunch. Along with stressing about the line for cafeteria french fries, I'm stressing about this. Their boyfriends. My french fries. Boy-fries, as we'd once called them as elementary kids. The warning bell rings, and the three couples go hand in hand into the sunset—well, to their first period classes. James and I stand frozen in our places, exchanging glances before continuing to watch our friends' backs get farther away. We usually face very different problems, but today we're united on one common front. Our friendships are screwed. How is it possible to have upgraded to a seventh wheel? *** I sit at the back of my first period English class, dumbfounded. In the two months that I was away, my friends just happened to bump into three hot guys, changing their relationship status from single to not-so single. I tap my long nails on the hardcover English textbook, trying to absorb the new information without hyperventilating. Right as my breathing returns to normal, Logan and Daniel walk into the classroom. Noticing the empty seats beside me, Logan sits on my left, sandwiched between me and Daniel. They both have gleeful expressions on their faces, obviously not understanding the trauma they induced earlier. It makes me want to scream. Here I was, thinking that I was incredibly lucky to have a friend group void of relationship drama; that all of us were on the same page. Now, I'm sitting beside two people responsible for this unwanted new chapter, who shrink in their seats as I glower at them. "Lara, I really like Kiera and I'm so sorry that we never told you until now," Daniel explains. "It just kind of happened during the summer." His dark eyes hold enough sincerity that I have difficulty keeping the angry expression on my face. "And I really like Jas. Like really, really, like her," Logan says, but I'm less convinced. I'm sure he's really, really liked a lot of girls, considering he has a new one each week. "I know what you're thinking. And she's different. I'm different with her." The words she's different and I'm different with her immediately activate my defensive parent mode because goodness gracious, I've read enough books to know that this foreshadows a lot of relationship bumps. "Listen," I hiss at Daniel, "if you ever do anything to make Kiera cry, I swear on my life, I will hunt you down and beat you until you can't move." Daniel begins to nod but pauses. "Okay, I'm not going to hurt her, but you do realize we're talking about Kiera, right? The other day I showed her a car commercial and she cried because there was a puppy. Can we negotiate this agreement? Perhaps only beat me up if her tears are caused by my mistakes?" How did my overly emotional best friend end up with a guy who interprets threats using logic? "Or not," he says, caving under my intense stare. "It's fine." Then it's Logan's turn. "And you, I get that you think that you're a 'nice person' and all, but we all know about that speed dating crap you pull on girls. Jasmine doesn't need a player." "I know," he says, shaking his head and frowning like he'd never consider hurting Jas. "I'm serious about her. I've never felt this way about anyone." "Sure." I pull out my phone just as Logan begins to respond. "I promise I've changed. I'm . . . Lara, are you listening?" "You know, Logan, I've been thinking about capitalism lately, and how much I like money." "Okay?" "I've also been thinking about intestines and, well, how fitting that you have some." Looking up from my cell phone, I calmly ask, "Logan Ford, do you know how much intestines are worth on the black market?" "No?" He might not but my Google search page does. Sliding my phone to the center of his desk, I watch in amusement as his blue eyes widen with fear. I've never seen someone so terrified of numbers. His frozen stature is enough confirmation that the threat has been received, so I reach for my cell phone and shove it back into my pocket. Finally, our English teacher walks into the room. "Good morning, everyone!" he greets us as he places his coffee mug on the desk. "My name is Mr. Garcia and we'll be spending the first period of the whole semester together. The assigned locker list is on the back wall, and at the end of class I'll be handing out the personal information sheets for you to take home and fill in. How does that sound?" As usual, the class full of sleep-deprived teenagers does not show any sign of response. Half of them have their phones in their laps, checking their social media as if something has changed within the past minute. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, on your desks you'll find our short story textbook, which we'll be using for unit one. Please turn to page five and take a moment to read over the first story," he instructs, and the sound of flipping pages takes over the room.