Chapter 4: Don't Cry Over Ghosts
"Ooh girl, you're shining like a Fifth Avenue diamond…And they don't make you like they used to…You're never going out of style…" Lucas Friar was in a mood—one earbud in, shoulders bouncing lightly, and both feet tapping out the beat as he leaned back against the low brick wall outside Riley's building.
His hoodie was half-zipped, his sleeves shoved up past his elbows, and his curls weren't doing what he wanted them to—but none of that mattered. The sidewalk was his runway, the sun was out, and MKTO was giving the kind of main character energy he didn't know he needed.
"Old school chic, like a movie star…" he mouthed along, pointing vaguely at the sky like it was his adoring audience.
He was mid-drum solo on the side of his thigh when the front door finally swung open—and with it came the sound of Maya Hart's voice, sharp as ever:
"Oh, Lord. He's dancing."
Lucas jolted and ripped the earbud out like he'd been caught committing a felony. "I was not dancing."
"You were totally dancing," Riley added, stepping out behind Maya with a binder tucked under one arm and a granola bar in her mouth. "There was a full shoulder pop."
"That wasn't a shoulder pop. That was—stretching."
"You were pointing at the sky, dude," Maya said, sunglasses sliding down her nose. "Were you serenading the clouds?"
Lucas groaned, tossing his hands in the air as they joined him on the sidewalk. "Okay, first of all—'Classic' is a banger. Second of all, I've been waiting out here for fifteen minutes."
"Your text said you were on your way ten minutes ago," Riley pointed out.
"Exactly. I lied. Because I knew you'd be late."
Maya smirked. "Look at you. Growth."
The three of them fell into their usual rhythm—Riley in the middle, Maya walking just a half-step ahead like she was leading the charge into battle, and Lucas hanging back enough to toss out snide comments without getting smacked for them.
"You guys think anyone changed over the summer?" Riley asked, adjusting her bag as they turned the corner.
"Physically? Probably. Emotionally? Doubt it," Maya answered. "Still the same clout-chasing, hallway-hovering, gossip-dealing circus it's always been."
"You sound so excited," Lucas said, sarcastic but soft. "You sure you didn't miss it?"
"I missed the drama," Maya admitted. "Not the people."
"I missed the vending machine pretzels," Riley added.
Lucas grinned. "See? You're both deep, thoughtful individuals."
As they passed the corner deli and the bodega cat who never moved, they reached the street outside their school. A small crowd was already gathered around the front entrance bulletin boards where class rosters were posted—paper taped up haphazardly behind scratched-up plexiglass.
The school always did this—make them come in a few days early to get their schedules, pretend it was for "preparedness," when really it was just organized chaos in the heat.
"Alright, troops," Maya said, cracking her knuckles. "Let's go see if fate is feeling cruel this year."
Lucas tilted his head. "Wouldn't be the first time."
The crowd was thick—rising freshmen trying to look cool, upperclassmen already bored, teachers silently judging from a distance. Lucas led the way, slipping through the tight group until he reached the sophomore class list and started scanning.
"Maya Hart…" he read out loud, then grinned. "Home room with me. You poor soul."
"Oh joy," Maya deadpanned. "Guess I'll be failing with commentary."
Lucas laughed, then looked again. "Lucas Friar… yep. And Riley Matthews—"
He paused.
"…She's not on here."
"What?" Riley said, already reaching past him.
Sure enough, Riley's name was nowhere under their homeroom list.
"Oh no," she whispered.
Maya stepped over and scanned it again just to be sure. "Check the next one. Maybe they put her with the weird theater kids again."
Lucas moved to the next board, eyes moving fast. And there it was.
"Here," he said, tapping the glass.
Riley's name. Different room. Different group. Not with them.
Riley stared at the list like it might rearrange itself if she blinked enough times.
"That… can't be right," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. "We've always been in the same class. Every year. Since—forever."
Lucas didn't joke. Maya didn't deflect.
The three of them just stood there, soaking in the weight of it.
"I mean, maybe it's nothing," Riley tried again, laughing in that too-light way she did when she was spiraling. "Maybe I'll sit with someone cool. Maybe I'll become cool."
"You are cool," Lucas said quietly.
Before anyone else could answer, a familiar voice called out—
"Riles?"
The three of them turned.
Charlie Gardner—same familiar boy-next-door smile, slightly taller, with a few curls falling over his forehead—stood just a few feet away. He looked a little older, maybe, or maybe it was just the way he carried himself. But he was still Charlie. The same boy who used to save her a seat on the bus and give her extra Goldfish at lunch in second grade.
"Hey," he said, glancing between her and the board. "Everything okay?"
Riley blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just a little schedule switch."
"Oh. You're not with them this year?" he asked, nodding toward Maya and Lucas.
She shook her head. "Nope. New homeroom. Plot twist."
He unfolded his own paper and checked. "Looks like I'm in… Room 2B."
Riley exhaled through her nose. "I'm in 1F."
Charlie frowned. "Ah. No group projects for us this year, then."
Lucas made a quiet noise behind them—something between a sigh and a throat clear.
Charlie looked back at him and Maya. "You two together?"
"Unfortunately," Maya muttered.
Lucas smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Charlie turned back to Riley, his voice softer now. "Hey… don't worry about it. You're still gonna rule the school. Different room doesn't change that."
Riley laughed, a little more real this time. "You're such a sap."
He smiled. "Yeah, but you used to like that about me."
Before Riley could answer, Maya cleared her throat. "Okay, emotional montage complete. Can we get iced coffee now before the sun melts my sarcasm?"
Lucas nodded, eyes still flickering toward the crowd behind them. "Yeah. Let's go."
As the trio turned to leave the crowd around the bulletin board, Riley still trying to shake off the lump in her throat, Maya groaned dramatically. "Someone's stepping on my heel—move!"
Except it wasn't someone stepping on her.
It was someone walking straight into her.
A shoulder clipped hers from behind—firm, fast, and completely unapologetic. Maya stumbled a step forward, catching herself before she could fully crash into Riley.
"Excuse you," she snapped, turning around.
The boy who bumped her didn't flinch. He stood tall, sharp around the edges, hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal a dark t-shirt underneath and a pair of intense eyes that didn't look sorry at all. He barely glanced at her before shifting toward the board, scanning the class lists like they were the only thing that mattered.
"You just gonna run people over now?" Lucas asked, squaring up beside Maya.
The guy's eyes flicked to Lucas, assessing. Calm. Detached.
"I didn't see you," he said flatly. "My bad."
It didn't sound like an apology.
"It's a hallway, not a race track," Maya fired back.
That finally got his attention. He turned toward her again, slower this time, eyes narrowing just a little.
"You talk a lot," he said.
Maya blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Loud voice. Strong opinions. Probably voted 'Most Likely to Throw a Desk' last year."
Lucas stepped forward, jaw tightening. "She saidexcuse me."
The guy raised an eyebrow. "You always speak for her?"
Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but Riley touched his arm—light, calm, just enough to ground him.
"It's fine," she said, looking at the boy now. "We're leaving anyway."
His eyes settled on her for the first time—quiet, unreadable.
"You're in 1F?" he asked.
Riley blinked. "Yeah… how'd you—?"
He held up his schedule, not that it answered anything. "Same."
Then, without another word, he stepped around them and continued up the steps, vanishing into the press of students crowding the front entrance.
Maya exhaled. "What in the mysterious transfer student was that?"
Lucas rolled his shoulders back. "Some guy who thinks being cryptic makes him interesting."
Riley said nothing.
But her eyes lingered on the stairs long after he disappeared.
The lights in Room 1F flickered once, then buzzed back to life like they were doing Riley a personal favor.
She stepped through the doorway and stopped—immediately noticing how different everything felt. The room smelled like dust and fresh paint, and the windows on the far wall were cracked just enough to let in a breeze that carried more city than summer.
It wasn't the kind of classroom she was used to. Or the kind of room she'd ever choose.
Definitely not the kind of room that had Maya snickering in the back row or Lucas rolling his eyes from across the aisle.
"Name?" the woman at the front desk called out, already scribbling on a clipboard.
"Riley Matthews."
"Second row, window side. Let's try not to make a habit of cutting it close."
Riley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd arrived early. Classic first-day welcome.
She made her way to the seat, brushing past students she didn't recognize. No familiar voices. No sarcastic running commentary from her best friend. Just silence—broken up by chairs screeching against the tile.
And one boy.
Back row. Hoodie on. Earbuds in. Eyes very much not on the board.
She wouldn't have noticed him if she hadn't felt it—that weird static of someone who wasn't just another face in the room.
He didn't look up as she passed. Didn't acknowledge anyone, really.
Just sat there, slouched but alert, like someone who'd rather be anywhere else but wasn't surprised to be here either.
Riley took her seat and set her bag down beside her, glancing once over her shoulder—just quick enough to see him lean back, eyes half-lidded but very clearly scanning the room.
He made no effort to hide it.
"Hey," a girl to her left whispered, flashing a friendly smile. "I'm Jordyn."
"Riley," she whispered back.
Jordyn leaned in slightly. "What's with Hoodie Guy in the back?"
Riley didn't look again. "I'm still figuring that out."
Riley had just pulled a pencil from her bag when the whispering started.
It was faint at first—two desks behind her, maybe three. Laughing, paper shuffling, that unmistakable energy of kids wholivedto poke at people who weren't bothering anybody.
"Look at her," someone muttered. "Already lined up her pens like it's a science fair."
Another voice joined in. "Bet she color-coded her schedule. Nerd girl alert."
Riley didn't flinch. Not yet.
She'd learned years ago that giving attention to people who thrived on it was like feeding pigeons in the park—you do it once, and they never leave.
"Nah," the second voice kept going. "She probably alphabetized her locker. Classic overachiever energy."
"Matthews the Mathlete," the first one said in a sing-song voice.
Jordyn side-eyed the group, leaning over to Riley. "You want me to throw a mechanical pencil at them?"
Riley gave her a small smile. "Nope. Let 'em have their moment. It's early. They'll burn out by third period."
Then came: "She's probably got a backup calculator in her bra or something."
That did it.
Before Riley could say a word, someone else spoke. Calm. Low. Steady.
"You done?"
The room dipped into silence like someone had turned the volume down on a remote.
All heads turned—hers included—to the back row.
Hoodie Guy. The one who hadn't said a single word since sitting down.
He was still slouched, earbuds now resting around his neck. His voice hadn't been loud. But it cut.
The two boys behind Riley shifted, looking suddenly very… not bold.
"We were just—"
"I said…" the guy repeated, eyes fixed on them, "…you done?"
The pause stretched just a little too long.
Then: "Yeah. We're done," one of the boys mumbled.
The teacher—who had clearly not been paying attention until just now—snapped her head up. "Excuse me. Sir—what's your name?"
The boy didn't answer. He stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked to the front of the room without a word.
"Excuse me," the teacher repeated, louder this time. "Where do you think you're going?"
He pushed open the door with one hand.
"I'll be outside."
And just like that, he was gone.
The entire class sat in stunned silence.
Jordyn blinked. "What… just happened?"
Riley stared at the now-empty back seat.
She didn't know what had just happened either.
But she knew exactly who that guy was now.
She just didn't know why he cared.
If there was one constant in the chaos of high school, it was the sacred institution known as lunch.
The three of them had regrouped at their usual spot—a long bench along the far wall, positioned just close enough to the windows for sunlight but far enough from the vending machines to avoid foot traffic and drama.
Maya was tearing into a bag of chips like it had personally offended her. Lucas was flipping the lid of his water bottle open and closed. Riley was unwrapping a sandwich she didn't remember packing.
"So," Maya said through a mouthful of barbecue dust, "you survived the land of the lost. How was 1F? Did your soul disintegrate? Did you make any new friends? Get a random prophecy from a janitor?"
Riley didn't answer right away.
She picked at the crust of her sandwich, then finally looked up. "Some guys started calling me nerd girl. Jordyn—this girl next to me—offered to throw a pencil at them."
Lucas's face darkened. "They called you what?"
"Nothing new," Riley said quickly. "It didn't bother me. I didn't even respond."
Maya narrowed her eyes. "But you're bringing it up…So…?"
Riley hesitated. "Someone else shut them down. Kind of. Not in a protective prince riding in on a white horse kind of way. More like… 'you're done' energy."
Lucas tilted his head. "Who?"
Riley shrugged. "Hoodie guy. Sat in the back. Didn't talk to anyone all class until that moment. Then the teacher tried to make him explain himself, and he just walked out."
"Wait—he walked out?" Maya asked, now fully interested.
"Didn't even argue. Just grabbed his bag and left. Like he couldn't be bothered."
Lucas frowned. "That sounds like the guy from this morning."
"The one that ran into you?" Riley asked.
Maya scowled. "Yeah, Mr. Elbows-Through-Crowds. Tells me I'm loud. Like, yes, I am—but don't say it."
"He didn't even say his name," Riley added.
"Maybe he doesn't have one," Maya said. "Maybe he just appeared from the shadows fully formed with a hoodie and a tragic backstory."
Lucas leaned back. "Or maybe he's just rude."
"I don't think he's rude," Riley said softly. "I think he's just… different."
Maya raised a brow. "Riley. He didn't evenaskyour name."
"Nope," Riley said. "But he knew my homeroom."
Maya froze mid-chip.
Lucas stopped clicking his water bottle.
"…Creepy?" Maya offered.
"Or observant," Riley countered.
The table fell quiet.
But not for long.
Because as if summoned by the conversation itself, a figure passed the far end of the lunchroom—hood up, bag slung low, earbuds in. He didn't look at them. Didn't stop walking. Just headed toward the exit like lunch wasn't part of his schedule.
Maya leaned in. "Is that him?"
Riley nodded. "Yep."
Lucas scoffed. "He's a whole walking genre."
Maya popped a chip in her mouth and grinned. "Mystery brooding fantasy with light enemies-to-something energy?"
Riley didn't say anything.
"I'm just saying," Maya continued, eyes still fixed on the exit, "that dude has serious brooding-in-a-parking-lot energy."
"You mean Hoodie Guy?" Lucas asked.
Riley rolled her eyes. "We're not calling him that."
"I'm sorry, I don't know his name," Maya said with mock innocence. "But you do. You sat with him all morning in homeroom, Miss Assigned Seating."
Riley held up her hands. "I didn'ttalkto him."
"He talked to your bullies," Lucas muttered.
Riley shrugged. "Yeah, well… maybe he just hates noise."
"Then he and Maya should get alonggreat," Lucas said, sarcastic and smirking.
Maya flipped him off with a smile. "Don't be jealous just because I attract walking enigmas."
"You didn't attract anything," Riley chimed in. "He barely looked at anyone except the door."
"Well, lucky me," Maya said dryly. "Because I get my own mess tomorrow."
Lucas raised a brow. "Don't tell me—Nick?"
Maya sighed. "Nick."
"Nicolas Hall?" Riley leaned forward. "He's in your homeroom?"
Maya nodded like it physically hurt. "Didn't show today. But I checked the roster last night. His name was right there."
"I thought you liked him," Riley said.
"I did. I liked looking at him and occasionally being acknowledged by him. What I don't like is sitting three feet away from someone who once made me feel like my heart was doing cartwheels through my stomach."
"Sounds exhausting," Lucas said.
"It was. He's like… soft-spoken, flirty in a 'did he mean it?' way, and his jawline should be illegal."
Lucas raised his hands. "I can't help with any of that."
"You don't need to," Maya said. "I'm just warning both of you—if I die tomorrow, it's because my hormones short-circuited my brain."
Maya crumpled her chip bag like it had insulted her and tossed it into the nearby trash can with unnecessary force.
"I hope Nick shows up late tomorrow," she muttered. "I need at least a homeroom buffer before I start spiraling into hormone-induced word vomit."
Lucas raised a brow. "You mean like now?"
"Excuse me, I'm venting. This is therapy. You're my unpaid emotional support wall."
Riley took a slow sip of her drink. "I've heard less drama in Spanish soap operas."
Maya pointed a chip crumb-covered finger at her. "Don't come for me. You sat next to Gotham's moodiest mystery man all morning and now you're acting like that was normal."
"I barely even talked to him!"
Lucas snorted. "Right. And I 'barely' noticed when Maya put glitter in my shampoo last year."
"That was festive," Maya said flatly. "You're welcome."
Riley waved a hand. "Look, he didn't say much. He told off two guys calling me 'nerd girl,' and then he ghosted."
Maya squinted. "Okay, pause. He ghosted?"
"Yep. Teacher called on him, he stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked out like it was part of the syllabus."
Lucas made a face. "So he's dramatic and mysterious. Great. Can't wait for his angst poetry club."
Maya leaned back, arms folded. "I don't know… it was kinda hot."
Lucas nearly choked on his water. "What?"
"I didn't say I liked him. I said it was hot. There's a difference."
"Barely," Riley muttered.
"I didn't say I wanted to marry him," Maya clarified, now fully leaning into the bit. "Just maybe emotionally dissect him like a character study. Or see what brand of angst he uses. Maybe he's the 'speak-in-paragraphs-when-provoked' kind."
Lucas looked to Riley. "Do you hear her? Do you see what happens when we let her drink sugar before noon?"
Riley smirked. "It's Maya. At this point, I just let her spiral and wait for the crash."
"I'm not spiraling," Maya said proudly, then immediately added, "but if Nick and the Hoodie show up at the same time tomorrow, I'm gonna need you guys to pack a paper bag and some emotional backup. Also, bring snacks."
"Snacks," Lucas echoed. "Got it. Do they make granola bars for people with identity crises?"
"They do," Riley said. "They're called chocolate."
Sixth Period – End of the Day
Riley dragged herself down the hallway like she'd just returned from war. Her homeroom had been decent. Biology was tolerable. Geometry had drained part of her soul. And lunch—well, that had been entertaining in a why-is-my-life-a-sitcom kind of way.
But now she was headed to her last class of the day. One more hour. That's all she had to survive.
As she rounded the corner, she saw a familiar figure leaning against a locker, fiddling with a zipper that clearly hated him.
"Please tell me this is your next class," Lucas said as she approached. "Because if I have to walk into another room full of testosterone and 'bro' energy, I might start biting people."
Riley smirked. "Relax. I think we're finally aligned."
Maya came up behind them, holding a barely-filled notebook. "Please tell me we have this class together, because I just came from History, where the only thing older than the textbook was the teacher."
Riley held up her schedule. "Room 112."
Lucas blinked. "Same."
Maya sighed in relief. "Finally. The universe got one thing right."
They entered the classroom together—smallish, clean-ish, and blessedly air-conditioned. Desks were set up in a loose horseshoe shape, and there was a whiteboard covered in sticky notes that said things like "THINK BIG" and "BE CURIOUS" in aggressively colorful marker.
"Creative writing?" Maya asked. "Oh, I'm about to thrive."
Riley looked impressed. "Wait, they actually let you in this?"
"They had no idea what they were doing," Maya whispered with a grin.
Lucas slid into a seat in the middle of the curve. "Alright, final period squad. I'm here for it."
Just then, the door opened—and in walked her.
Cassandra Vega.
Instant shift in atmosphere.
Riley sat up straighter. Maya arched a brow. Lucas? Lucas momentarily forgot how sitting worked.
"Oh look," Maya whispered with mock reverence. "It's Bianca Santos with school spirit."
Cassandra flashed a warm smile as she entered, casually tossing a wave in their direction. "Hey guys."
"Hey, Cass," Riley said easily, waving back.
"Love the shoes," Maya added.
Cassandra grinned. "Thanks, I got them on clearance and they're already giving me blisters. So basically, I'm thriving."
Lucas nodded slowly. "That's… awesome."
Cassandra blinked. "What is?"
Lucas blinked back. "Your… shoes?"
Maya side-eyed Riley so hard her eyes nearly rolled into another timeline.
Cassandra smiled politely and moved to an open desk across the room, oblivious to the chaos she left in her wake.
Lucas slumped into his seat. "I sounded normal, right?"
"No," both girls replied in perfect unison.
"You sounded like a sentient shoelace," Maya added.
Mr. Mercer strolled in moments later, radiating chaotic teacher energy in a turtleneck that felt unnecessary in September.
"Afternoon, people. I'm Mr. Mercer. This is Creative Writing. If you came here for basic essay formatting, you're in the wrong emotional trauma circle."
He clapped his hands once. "Let's jump right in with something painful and awkward: partner interviews. Go find someone you didn't walk in with."
Lucas's eyes widened.
"Oh no," he whispered.
"Oh yes," Maya whispered right back, practically bouncing in her seat. "Go get your shoe queen, Romeo."
"I can't just walk over there!"
Riley gave him a pat on the back. "We believe in you. But we're also going to mock you the entire way."
Lucas groaned and stood, adjusting his hoodie like it was a tactical vest.
"Okay. If I die… avenge me."
"Only if it's funny," Maya called as he walked off.
Lucas approached Cassandra's desk like he was walking into a job interview he didn't apply for.
"Hey," he said, voice cracking slightly. "Um… you mind if I—?"
Cassandra smiled. "Nope, go ahead."
He sat. Immediately regretted how fast he sat. Adjusted. Regretted that too.
"So," she said, flipping open her notebook, "partner interview. Let's do this."
Lucas blinked. "Right. Uh. Yeah. Questions."
From across the room, Maya leaned closer to Riley, whispering dramatically.
"Is he sweating or is that the natural glow of panic?"
"That's fear," Riley replied calmly. "It's the same look he had when he knocked over that stack of juice boxes in the cafeteria last year."
"Oh my God, I forgot about Juice Boxgate."
Meanwhile, back at the desk of doom—
Cassandra tilted her head. "So, what do I need to know about Lucas Friar?"
Lucas scrambled. "Uh—I have a dog. Named… Barkley. That's not true. I don't know why I said that."
Cassandra blinked. "Okay… not a dog person?"
"No, I am. I just don't own one. I just… I panicked."
From across the room—
"Oh no," Maya hissed. "He's entering the word vomit phase."
"Should we intervene?" Riley asked, genuinely torn.
Maya grinned. "Absolutely not."
Back with Lucas—
"So like, I guess I'm… kind of into basketball. And also history. But not like,weirdinto it. I just—like learning."
Cassandra smiled, bemused. "That's not weird."
"Oh. Cool. Great." Lucas nearly knocked over his pencil. "You probably knew that. Because we talk. Sometimes. In the hall."
"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "You're always nice."
Lucas looked like he might implode.
Back across the room—
"He's going to pass out," Maya whispered. "Do you think if we threw a granola bar at his head it would reset him?"
"He'd catch it," Riley said. "He's an athlete. He just loses his coordination when she smiles."
"Oh look," Maya said, leaning in. "She just complimented him. We're in the danger zone now."
Lucas, still sitting there trying not to spontaneously combust, cleared his throat.
"So… what about you? What should I write down about you?"
Cassandra leaned forward slightly. "Hmm. Let's see. I'm from Miami. Cheerleader. Big family. I really like horror movies even though I cover my eyes during all the good parts. And I'm obsessed with sour candy."
Lucas scribbled something on the page that resembled the word "sour," but looked more like "swoon."
"Got it," he said. "Totally… same."
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "You like horror?"
Lucas paused. "I… respect it."
From across the room, Maya clapped once like a golf audience. "That's it. That's our boy. Crashing and burning with dignity."
"I'm proud of him," Riley whispered. "He made it a full four minutes."
Suddenly, the timer goes off.
Mr. Mercer clapped his hands once, then pointed dramatically to the front of the room.
"Alright, let's ruin someone's sense of security—who wants toshare?"
A few students mumbled. One fake-coughed. Someone tried to drop a pen just for the excuse to duck under the desk.
Mr. Mercer scanned the room, and like some twisted sixth sense, his eyes landed right on Lucas.
"You," he said, grinning. "Basketball hair. Let's go."
Lucas blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Stand up. Tell us something fascinating about your partner. And try to say it without passing out."
Lucas slowly rose from his seat like his spine was personally offended by the request. He turned toward the class and cleared his throat.
"Okay," he started. "Um… Cassandra likes horror movies and sour candy and she's from Miami."
There was a pause.
Mr. Mercer raised a brow. "And?"
Lucas's brain… failed.
Just absolutely blue-screened.
He panicked.
"She… uh… doesn't like ghosts," he blurted out. "Because they make her… sour."
Silence.
Riley slapped her forehead. Maya bit her fist to keep from laughing.
Cassandra blinked. And then… she giggled.
Like, actual real-life giggled.
"Oh my God," she whispered under her breath, laughing.
Lucas heard it. And for a moment, he thought maybe this wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
But then everyone else laughed too. Not mean laughter—but class laughter. That "wow, what did he just say" energy.
Lucas's face turned bright red.
"Nope," he muttered, grabbing his backpack. "I'm gonna… I'll be right back."
And before Mr. Mercer could stop him, Lucas darted out of the room like it was on fire.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Mr. Mercer blinked. "Did that boy just exit the class over a ghost joke?"
Maya raised her hand without missing a beat. "He's been sick all day."
Riley nodded immediately, her expression wide-eyed and full of concern. "Yeah. Super pale. Weak. We told him not to come. Flu season's early this year, right?"
Mr. Mercer squinted. "It's 82 degrees out."
"Yeah, but you know bacteria doesn't follow the weather anymore," Maya said. "Superbugs. The internet said so."
Mr. Mercer stared at them.
Then nodded once. "Alright. Go. Make sure he's not laying face down in the hallway."
"Thank you, Mr. M!" Maya said, already grabbing her bag.
Riley followed, waving quickly at Cassandra on her way out. "You were great, by the way."
Cassandra smiled, still half-laughing to herself. "You guys are a mess."
"Yup," Maya agreed. "But we're a supportive mess."
Maya stomped out of the classroom like she was leading a search-and-rescue mission.
"Alright," she announced dramatically. "Where's our broken boy?"
"Keep your voice down," Riley hissed, shutting the classroom door gently behind her.
"He ran out like it was a crime scene," Maya said, spinning on her heel. "I'm just trying to assess the damage. I'm picturing full-on fetal position behind the vending machine."
"Don't joke," Riley said, scanning the hallway. "He looked really upset."
Maya sighed, all sarcasm slipping into concern. "I know. He hates when he gets flustered like that."
Before they could move more than a few feet, a voice called out behind them.
"Everything okay?"
They turned to see Charlie Gardner approaching from the far end of the hallway, snack bar half-eaten in one hand, brows furrowed in a way that made Riley's stomach flip just slightly.
"Hey," Riley said, giving him a quick smile. "Yeah, uh… Lucas sort of had a minor… meltdown."
Charlie winced. "Yikes. He good?"
"He fled the classroom like it was a burning building," Maya said. "So I'm gonna go with 'no.'"
Charlie nodded. "You want help looking for him?"
"Actually—" Riley started.
Another voice cut in from nowhere.
"You guys just attract chaos, huh?"
Zane stood maybe six feet away, back against the wall like he'd been there for ten minutes. Hood still up. Completely unreadable.
Maya jumped a little. "Do youlivein the shadows? Were you born in a fog machine?"
Zane gave a shrug. "I was walking by. Saw you two looking around like someone stole your lunch money."
Charlie glanced at him. "You cut class too?"
Zane didn't answer. Just gave a look that saidobviously.
"Wow," Maya said, arms crossed. "You really are committed to the brooding teen aesthetic. Love the consistency."
"Thanks," Zane replied dryly. "Yours is loud girl with no filter. You're killing it."
Riley stepped between them with the exasperated energy of someone used to being a full-time peacekeeper. "Not the time."
And then they all saw it—Lucas, hoodie up, eyes wide like a deer caught mid-emotion, darting around the corner… and heading straight into the boys' bathroom.
"Nope," Maya snapped. "Absolutely not. I'm going in."
"Maya!" Riley gasped, grabbing her by the elbow. "You can't charge into the boys' restroom!"
Maya jerked her arm free. "Watch me."
Zane snorted, just under his breath.
Maya turned on him instantly. "Oh. You think this is funny, Hoodie?"
Zane didn't flinch. "Little bit. Watching you fight bathroom rules with raw emotion? Top-tier entertainment."
"Glad I could be your free show," she fired back. "Do you want autographs after?"
Charlie tried to bite back a grin. "Okay, okay. Let's maybe dial it back. I'll go in."
Riley raised a brow. "Alone?"
"He's strong," Maya said. "He locks up when he's overwhelmed. You might get drop-kicked just trying to check on him."
Charlie laughed lightly. "True. I remember in gym last year when he tried to help me stretch and I ended up on the floor."
Riley looked between the boys, then glanced at Zane. "Would you help?"
Zane raised a brow. "Now you need my help?"
Maya rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be a smartass or are you gonna be useful?"
He stared at her.
Then at Riley, who added gently, "Please?"
Zane sighed. "Fine."
He pushed off the wall and followed Charlie into the bathroom.
The girls waited, pacing.
"I feel like I should've gone in," Maya muttered. "He listens to me."
"He also panics when people see him cry," Riley replied. "You barging in would've made him explode like a soda can."
"I don't know," Maya said, rocking on her heels. "Exploding's kind of his thing."
A few quiet minutes passed.
And then the door creaked open.
Charlie stepped out first, patting his hands on his jeans.
Then Zane followed, looking entirely unimpressed.
And finally—Lucas.
His eyes were red. Hoodie drawn tighter. Shoulders hunched.
He looked at the girls like a kid who just lost a spelling bee in front of the entire school.
"You okay?" Riley asked gently.
Lucas nodded, but the nod was the physical equivalent ofehhhh.
Maya stepped closer. "You sure? Because if not, I can pull fire alarm level drama and get you out of here."
Lucas let out a breathy laugh. "I'm fine."
Maya stared at him.
He stared back.
"…Were you crying?" she asked flatly.
"No," Lucas said immediately.
"Dude, your face is leaking," Maya said, pointing at his cheek.
"I rubbed my eyes," he insisted.
"With what, sandpaper?" she replied.
"You're a softy," Riley said, nudging him.
"I amnota softy," Lucas groaned.
Behind them, Charlie chuckled. "I mean… maybe just a little."
Zane crossed his arms. "You're crying over a girl? Good grief."
Lucas turned to him, still puffy-eyed but weirdly confident. "Bro… you'd cry over your future wife too."
Zane blinked. Just once. "Doubt it."
Maya smirked. "Oh you will. And we're all gonna laugh when it happens."
Lucas dropped onto the hallway bench with a sigh. "Remind me why I hang out with you people?"
"Because we're your safe space," Riley said, sitting beside him.
"Your human emotional support gremlins," Maya added, taking the other side.
Lucas rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "You're the worst."
"We're the best," Riley corrected.
Zane and Charlie slowly started walking away, the latter tossing them a casual wave.
Zane paused halfway down the hall.
Then glanced back.
Just once.
And then kept walking.
the bell rang and students flooded the hallway around them, the trio sat on the bench like their own little island of chaos, comfort, and codependency.
They didn't say much else.
They didn't have to.
Internally RILEY…High school isn't just about classes and grades. Sometimes, it's about learning who your people are…
And who they'll still be when you run out of the room because your crush laughed at your ghost joke.
Internally MAYA…Sure, we're all a little dramatic. A little broken. A little too loud at the wrong time.
But if the world's gonna fall apart—at least we've got matching front-row seats.
Internally LUCAS…Look, I'm not saying I cried. But… if I did? It was totally reasonable. And you'd cry too—if your dream girl smiled at your dumbest moment. Don't judge me. Actually, you know what? Go ahead. I've got backup.
The three of them sat quietly.
Riley gently bumped her shoulder into Lucas.
Maya kicked his shoe.
He groaned.
And smiled anyway.
Yeah, that was a cheesy ending but hey I got you another chapter. Didn't expect to see an update so soon, did ya?
Thanks for reading, STORMAI
