ACE POV
Three Years Ago...
The whistle blows.
Once again—I'm last.
But I didn't care. I'd rather be in art class than here in this chlorine-soaked hell Coach Smith calls "aerobics."
Dad didn't give me much of a choice. "Swimming builds muscle, Ace. You'll thank me later."
Yeah, still waiting on that thank-you card to sign itself.
I climbed out of the pool, water dripping from my elbows, wrapped a towel around my waist, and shuffled over to where the other students stood—already dry, already done.
"Good work today," Coach Smith barked. "Fifteen-minute break. Then change and get to your next class. Got it?"
"YES, COACH!" we all shout like we care.
He nodded and headed off toward his office with a wave. "If anyone needs me, you know where to find me."
Spoiler: nobody ever does.
I dropped down on the bleachers, pulled my sketchbook from my bag, and flipped to a half-finished page—just a messy outline of someone mid-dive, caught between grace and gravity.
Then came the voice I hated most.
"Well, well. Always the last one, huh... new kid?"
I looked up. Ethan.
Team captain. Ego with legs. And right beside him, his two usual backup dancers—just as loud, just as brainless.
He squinted at me like I was a smudge on his designer goggles.
"Actually, you know what? Not surprised. Bag of bones like you probably floats better than you swim."
They all laughed. The same barking, wheezing hyena laugh they always did.
I ignored him and reached for my pencil. He wasn't worth it.
But Ethan wasn't done. He never was.
"Hey, Bones. I know you hear me."
Still nothing from me.
"Do your parents even feed you, or do you live off scraps and sketchbooks?"
Pencil to paper. Shade. Breathe. Ignore.
"Yo! What are you, slow or something? You deaf, dumb, or just plain retarded?"
That one got to me. But before I could react—
"You should leave him alone."
The voice wasn't mine.
It was hers.
I turned. There she was—standing with her arms crossed, eyes fierce, curls pulled into a proud Afro. Skin the color of sunlit earth, dusted with freckles across her cheeks. She looked like she didn't just walk in—she arrived.
Ethan blinked. "And who the hell are you? His little nerd girlfriend?"
His boys chuckled behind him, but it sounded forced this time.
I stood, fists clenched, ready to step in. But she beat me to it.
"You couldn't get a girlfriend because your face looks like shit," she snapped.
Silence.
One of Ethan's boys actually took a step back.
"What did you just say, bitch?" he growled.
She didn't flinch. Walked right up to him. "You heard me. You—"
He shoved her.
That was it.
"Hey! Asshole!" I shouted.
Ethan turned—and I clocked him.
Right in the face.
He stumbled back and I tackled him before he could react, fists flying, the world narrowing to a red blur and the sound of kids screaming "FIGHT! FIGHT!" like they were at a gladiator match.
The whistle blew, sharp and furious. Coach Smith shoved through the crowd and dragged me off him.
"ACE! Main office. Now."
Ethan sat on the floor, cradling his nose, blood leaking through his fingers. I turned back just enough to smirk.
"How's that for a pile of bones,asshole?"
I grabbed my bag and started toward the hallway.
As I passed the gym doors, the girl from earlier caught up beside me.
"That was... something," she said, out of breath. "Thanks. Those guys are walking garbage."
"No," I said, glancing at her. "You shouldn't have had to step in. I should've said something before it got that far."
She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Kate."
"Ace," I replied, shaking it.
Her eyes squinted. "Wait... Ace? Did you just move in across the street from me?"
"Uh... yeah. Greenville Street."
She gasped and lit up like a firework. "I knew you looked familiar! That's it. From now on, you're my best friend."
I let out a short laugh.
There was no way I could be best friends with a girl.
