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I liked to think of Riverside as a gracious kind of town: We acknowledged others' greatness and celebrated it. And it wasn't just because our quaint and simple charms were so often overshadowed by the flashy glamour of the neighboring areas, either. Our town wasn't completely eluded by success. Maybe Off-Kilter's was on a much grander scale than we were used to, but it wasn't unprecedented.

Riverside North High—the school I went to—for instance, had its share of notable alumni. Among them were: a number of professional and college-level athletes, a handful of players on Broadway, and a class valedictorian, who was also—according to pure speculation—an imminent Nobel Prize winner.

This was evidenced by the various medals, trophies, plaques, and framed news clippings stored behind glass display cases. I had been staring at them for the past couple of minutes today, my first day of junior year.

Everyone got first period off to sort out their schedules, get their books and locker assignment, and to do whatever else to make sure that the rest of the day went smoothly. Alex and I found her locker first; it was right next to the trophy cases. The same ones I had been staring at as I waited for her.

I continued to stare at the case's contents, particularly the ones belonging to the last person I mentioned. People seemed to expect that person to cure cancer, end world hunger, and reverse the effects of global warming all within the next ten years. There was a picture of her—a girl with pale hair and doe eyes—from the time she was invited to a special event for young achievers held at the White House. She had already graduated by then, but I guess the school kept tabs on whoever put us on the map.

I wasn't saying the school or the town was wrong; she very well could live up to everyone's expectations, if she made saving the world a priority. The thing was, I had it on good authority that she had other interests that she pursued more relentlessly.

"Hey, I'm done. Let's go find yours." Alex appeared beside me and broke into my thoughts. She went quiet once she realized what I was looking at.

"Know why this school feels like home to me?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the picture where the same girl smiled as if she could read my thoughts. I wasn't sure she couldn't. "There's so much of my sister's crap lying around here, too."

Summer St. Clair, the girl in the picture, was five years older than me and started college the year I started high school. That had always felt like a mixed blessing. On one hand, I didn't have to be physically in her shadow at all. On the other, her legend grew exponentially every year, and every year, I became a greater disappointment, in comparison.

"Who cares?" Alex scoffed. She snatched the piece of paper I was holding in one hand—it indicated my locker assignment—gave it a quick glance and sped off. I readjusted the stack of books in my arms and followed her. "Free your mind of all that unpleasantness, Adrian. Concentrate on the good things about being back here."

Alex spread her arms wide and took a loud and exuberant breath, as if the noisy hallway filled with disoriented-looking students was the most fascinating sight that she had ever seen. I gave her a sideways glance and made a face.

"Such as? The stellar lunch menu?"

"I even miss that, can you believe it?" Her tone perked up another notch. "I'm not gonna have an appetite for months! Just think of how much weight I'll lose."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. It was way too early for this. Alex tried again.

"Okay, how about this sea of smiling, friendly faces? Hey. Heey," Alex sang as she waved at a pair of boys that we passed. They were cute, I supposed, but I wasn't sure just how friendly they actually were; I had never seen them before in my life. Affecting a weird accent, she added, "How you doin'?"

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