` The final bell rang through the halls of Westbrook High like a starting pistol. Students flooded out of classrooms in waves, their chatter bouncing off the cheap lockers.

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` Y/n leaned against the row of lockers by the east exit, arms crossed. The air still smelled like floor wax and teenage apathy.

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` Down the hall, a knot of kids parted. She walked through them like she didn't see them.

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` Cassie. Long brown hair. Perfect smile. The girl who'd been his girlfriend for eight months, until three days ago.

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` She wasn't alone. Mark Forrester had his hand on the small of her back, leaning in to whisper something that made her laugh.

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` Cassie looked up. Met Y/n's eyes for half a second. Then turned away, still smiling, her hand finding Mark's.

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` Something hot and stupid crawled up Y/n's throat.

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` A trash can sat against the wall by his knee. Half-full. He kicked it. It clattered across the linoleum, spilling crumpled papers and a half-eaten apple.

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` A nearby freshman jumped back.

`

`

` The hallway was thinning out. Through the glass doors at the end, he could see students gathering on the front steps, laughing, pairing off.

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` A girl with a bandana tied in her hair was heading his way, carrying a stack of books. She had to sidestep the trash on the floor.

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` She glanced up as she passed. Glanced at his face. Slowed her step just a fraction.