Mia stood beside you, her backpack slung over one shoulder, a paper coffee cup balanced in her other hand. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore the kind of half-smile that meant she was already scanning the crowd for drama.

A group of freshmen stumbled through the doors behind you, laughing too loud, their backpacks still decoratively clean. A senior with a varsity jacket held the door for them, rolling his eyes.

She nudged your shoulder with hers.

The hallway opened up ahead, a flood of bodies moving in every direction. Lockers slammed. Someone's phone blared a ringtone from a backpack. Posters for the fall dance were taped crookedly on the walls, already half-peeling.