Halfway through the first lesson of French, a girl walks in twenty minutes late, appearing tired. But she still has a wide smile on her face that falters, then resumes when she looks at me.
"She's sitting in my seat, miss." She says.
"There's a seat beside her." The teacher replies impatiently. "Sit down, Riley."
She sighs heavily, walking toward me slowly. She drops into the seat beside me, glancing at me.
"You're new." She says.
"Mhm." I mumble.
She tilts her head. "What's your name?"
"Celine."
"Like Celine Dion?"
"I guess." I mutter.
She grabs her book, flipping it open. Then she tilts mine, allowing herself to copy off of it.
Another half an hour passes. She doesn't talk to me, only silently copies the little amount of work I've done. Just because I don't want to do French, it doesn't meet I don't have this sudden urge to make my dad proud, even if I don't know why I'm trying to.
"This class blows." She whispers. "I should've picked Spanish."
"I have to do French."
"Why?" She questions, moving her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder.
"I'm French. And my dad is making me."
"Oh. Well, I guess it worked out. Now you have a friend." She says, grinning.
"You?"
"You don't have to sound so sad about it." She rolls her eyes, but then laughs. "I'll introduce you to my other friends at lunch so you're not a loner."
"I'm not a loner."
"Mhm." She mumbles, laying her head on the desk. "Wake me up when the lesson ends."
She closes her eyes and falls asleep.
•
"You figure skate? That's so cool!" One of Riley's friends, Avery, exclaims. I can barely hear her over the chatter in the dining hall, full with hundreds of students and lined with dozens of tables. I'm on one of the biggest ones—Riley's friendship group is quite large, it seems.
They jump into another conversation, but when the double doors to the lunch hall open, I look over. Everyone seems to, their eyes trailing Camilo and Léo, who are surrounded by their friends, as they walk over to a table. The small group of three already taking up some of the chairs vacate immediately, making room for them.
My gaze catches Léo's, and he smiles at me. I smile back, then turn to Avery, who laughs loudly at something the girl sitting beside her said.
I look over at Léo and Camilo again. The latter looks at me, smiling like Léo did. Then he tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows as his attention zeroes into someone behind me.
I turn around. A boy who seems to be around Léo and Camilo's age stands there. He taps on Riley's shoulder, and she turns around, her smile dimming immediately.
"What, Frankie?" She says.
"I'm going home, give me the key."
"No. Mum said you're not allowed there by yourself anymore after you threw a party and your girlfriend fought someone."
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Teen FictionCeline Monet has lived alone with her mother ever since she was five, when her parents got a divorce and only one won custody over her. But finally, eight years later, her father wins shared custody. After moving across the country and settling...
