Trip, Fall, Repeat

Classes were two hours long. Two hours. Who even makes a class that long? Chemistry was bad enough on its own, but add two hours and boom-you've created a pretty intense nightmare. I was pretty sure I'd just failed the same test for the second time in a row. And I looked like it too.

Hair frizzed like a bird's nest, hoodie smelling suspiciously like it hadn't touched a washing machine in weeks, and-oh, the grand finale-third tardy of the week. Guess who woke up on the wrong side of bed today? This guy. It wasn't like I didn't have the money to do what I wanted; as a matter of fact, my family is pretty good on our own; I'm just lazy, you know? So lazy, I began to let my life slip.

Finally, the bell shrieked its freedom song, and I shot up from my seat like a rocket, ready to escape. But then-
"Amaya, can I see you for a second?"

Great. Perfect. Could this day get any worse?

Mr. Collins gave me the classic "I'm disappointed, not angry" speech: declining scores, "take action to improve," repeat the year, blah, blah, blah. I already knew most of this anyway. I wasn't exactly planning on college anyway, so what was the point? Still, I nodded like a polite little puppet and bolted for the door as if my GPA were chasing me with a knife.

Bad idea.

I smacked straight into something-or someone-and my books, pencils, notebook, and dignity all went flying. My glasses skittered across the hallway floor. Perfect.

"Are you okay? That was totally my fault."

Am I ok? Are you ok? You have the voice of an angel. I scrambled for my glasses, shoving them onto my face before daring to look up. My brain went into full slow-motion movie mode. Auburn hair. A hand reaching down toward me. The kind of soft, floaty voice you only hear in commercials where people frolic through fields of wildflowers.

"Hey, uh... hello? Are you okay?"

Right. Staring was not socially acceptable. I jumped up, nearly tripping over my own foot, and completely ignored her outstretched hand. Smooth. Real smooth.
"Um, yeah! Totally fine. My fault, actually. Yep. Thanks!"

Then I saw her face.

It was like staring into the sun-except instead of burning my retinas, she burned my entire sense of self-worth.

Drop-dead gorgeous. Model-gorgeous. Goddess-descended-to-earth gorgeous.

Meanwhile, I was in a stretched-out hoodie and sweatpants I hadn't worn in three months. Fantastic.

"Hey..." She waved her hand in front of my face again. Crap. Zoning out. Again. "Sorry-what were you saying?" She paused, then smiled. And oh my gosh. That smile could end wars.

"You're Amaya, right? I've heard about you!"

Wait. Hold up. She knew my name?

I turned around just to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. Nope. It was me.
"Wait-you're talking to me?"

She laughed. "Of course I'm talking to you, silly. You're Amaya, aren't you?" I froze. A literal goddess knew my name? This had to be a prank. Some cruel high school joke at my expense. I folded my arms, trying to look tough. "I'm not interested." Her smile vanished. "Excuse me?"

"Go find someone else to pick on."

Now she looked genuinely confused. "I'm sorry, you've completely lost me."

I let out a dry laugh. "Being a senior, you'd think maybe we'd get some respect around here. But nope. High school never changes-selfish, stupid, childish."

And with that, I stormed past her like some tragic anti-hero. Even though I wasn't necessarily someone to be talking about being stupid, better to look bitter than desperate, right? I had important things to do anyway... like finishing my calculus homework. (Two weeks late. Minor detail.)

On my way to the library, a crowd had gathered around the bulletin board. Instinct said, Keep walking, Amaya. Save your grades, save your life. But of course, my feet had other plans.

And there she was again.

Her face was on the poster. My stomach dropped. Crap. Then I saw another face. A boy. Same hair, same jawline. Her twin. Crap.

Then my eyes dragged down to the headline:

"New Board Director and his two kids join the senior class today! Punctuality and good behavior is key!"

...Crap.

I'd just told off the Board Director's daughter. In public. On her first day. My hands slapped over my face. Amaya, you absolute screw-up. Images rushed through my mind: She tells her dad. Her dad tells the principal. I get expelled. Dad kills me. The end. Panic clamped down on my chest. "No, no, no, no, NO-"

And then the bell rang again. Not a sweet release this time. Nope. This bell was dragging me straight into my doom.

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