Lockers slammed. Someone shrieked with laughter. A group of freshmen scattered like startled birds as the queen and her court rounded the corner.

Y/n led the pack, cheerleading skirt swishing, letterman jacket slung over one shoulder. Behind her, Chrissy was giggling at something Caroline whispered, ponytail bouncing.

It was a Tuesday. Nothing ever happened on Tuesdays.

Inside, a cluster of boys huddled around a table covered in graph paper and strangely shaped dice.

Mike Wheeler caught Y/n's eye through the doorway.

Just for a second.

Long enough.