It's my first morning of high school. I let out a small grunt as I shift my heavy backpack over my shoulder, my eyes still fogged with sleep. My sister stands beside me at the bus stop, who is nodding along to a song blaring through her earbuds. We both slept through our alarms, so we had to get ready in a frenzy.

My stomach grumbles - not just from skipping breakfast, but because I'm nervous as hell. I just have to get through today.

I was adopted as a baby by Richard and Leslie Bennett, who already had a daughter—my sister, Nicole. They'd tried for a second child before me, but then Leslie had a miscarriage while Nicole was still a toddler. It hit them both really hard. So when the chance to adopt came along, they were ecstatic. They had said that they had already settled on the name, Lori, if they were to have another girl, so that's what they named me. I don't know anything about my biological parents or where I came from—other than that I was born in Beach City, Delmarva. Keystone is the only home I've ever known.

My adoptive parents did everything they could to give me a normal childhood, but for as long as I can remember, I always knew I was different. Naturally, my hair is brown, with a single faint blue streak running through it. I was also born with a strange blue gem embedded in my chest, and my eyes are bright blue with oddly shaped pupils. Doctors have been stumped by all of it. Mom says I've always been a sensitive soul. When I was in preschool, I tried to comfort a kid who was crying after he scraped his knee. I seem to have the same effect on people, though. Mom also once told me that on my first day of kindergarten, I was so scared that I cried - and before long, every other kid in the class was crying, too. But that's not all. It's hard to explain, but sometimes I can feel the emotions of people around me - including anger...which got me into a lot of fights.

Because of this, on top of the way I look, people avoid me. I was an outcast all throughout elementary and middle school. I've been bullied, called a freak. My sister has been my only friend through all of it. But she's way cooler than me and has always been way more popular among our peers, and although I love her to death, I have to admit that it's left me with some deep-seated feelings of jealousy and resentment.

Nicole asked me one day, while we were watching trash TV and splitting a family-sized bag of Chaaaaps, about whether or not I wanted to find out who my bio parents are. "Aren't you even a little curious about where you came from?"

I simply shrugged and popped a chip into my mouth. Crunch, crunch. "You think that's a good idea? I mean they gave me away for a reason."

The topic was never brought up again.

Why would I want to find out why they didn't want me? Did they also reject me because of how I look? Are they even still alive? It's too painful to think about.

The school bus wheezes to our corner. The door opens and I step up first. We're the first pickup of the day. The driver pulls away from the curb as I slide into a seat near the front and lean against a window, my cheek pressed to the cool glass. My sister plops down next to me. She takes one of her earbuds out to say something to me. "Cheer up, sis, high school isn't nearly as bad as you think it is."

I keep staring out the window. "If you say so."

Nicole reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. "You just keep being your cool, smart, funny, empathetic self and don't get mixed up in any drama, and you'll be fine."

I lift my head to look at her. "But what if everyone at this school hates me, too?"

"Then that's their loss. But no matter what, I'm here for you."

The bus picks up students in groups of four or five. As they walk down the aisle, some of the kids I recognize from middle school give me the side-eye. I close my eyes and sigh.

The bus hums steadily as we continue on our route. Nicole puts her earbud back in, but her eyes are still on me, like she's waiting for some kind of response. I can feel the weight of her gaze, but I don't meet it. I don't want to. I'm too tired of pretending everything's okay.

I hear a snicker behind me. It's not even subtle—like whoever it is wants me to hear it. I don't look back, though. Instead, I stare out the window again, my thoughts swirling like the autumn leaves drifting across the sidewalk.

High school. My stomach twists at the thought. It's supposed to be a fresh start, right? New school, new people, new possibilities. But somehow, it feels like the same thing I've been running from all my life: people staring, judging, whispering.

Nicole notices me clenching my fists in my lap, and she leans in a little closer. "I know it's a big change," she says quietly, "but you're not alone in this. You'll make friends, I promise."

I nod, but it feels like a lie.

The bus slows as we pull up to the next stop, and a few more kids file in. A couple of them nod at Nicole, but none of them look my way. Not that I expect them to. Why would they?

A guy with a messy mop of hair and a black hoodie sits across from us. He glances at me briefly, then looks down at his phone. I don't recognize him. His headphones are as big as his head, and the way he's hunched over the screen, he's clearly not looking for company.

Nicole starts tapping her phone, probably scrolling through some random meme she'll share later. Honestly, I wish I could be more like her—charming and confident. But I'm not.

When the bus starts moving again, I feel a pang of anxiety twist through me. The next stop is the high school. The beginning of the end. I almost wish I could stay on the bus, just keep going and never get off.

But then Nicole's hand is back on my shoulder again, warm and steady, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

"Hey, we've got this," she says, her voice quieter now, like she knows I need something softer, something to ground me. "I'll be right there with you. We'll figure it out together. You'll see, it's not as bad as you think."

I try to smile, but it's small, just a curve of my lips. "Thanks."

I wish I could believe her.

The bus pulls into the school parking lot, and for a second, time seems to slow down. I can see the other kids getting off the bus, laughing, pushing each other, all of them in their groups. I feel like I'm watching from the outside, like I don't belong.

Nicole nudges me. "Come on, let's go."

I take another deep breath, grab my backpack, and follow her out of the bus. The doors close behind us with a loud whoosh, and I step onto the sidewalk, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me.

Welcome to Keystone High School: Home of the Warriors.

The building looms ahead, like a mountain. And I'm not sure I have it in me to climb it.