Catching Feelings

Chapter 1 Sabrina

Countdown to the start of school: ten days.

Days since I’ve been back from South Carolina: one.

Weeks to the biggest pep rally I’ve ever organized: three.

Months to homecoming, the most important event of the fall: less than two.

Number of fires to put out before then: approximately seventy billion.

“I want these T-shirts to be, like, collector’s items.” I frown at the list in my Notes app, chewing on the end of my straw while the gossipy chatter of the Lakeside Diner roars around me.

“I’m thinking bedazzled. Ooh, what if they light up?

Can we hide a battery pack in the neck somewhere?

Make them flash in coordinated patterns, like at a concert? ”

Kara Garcia looks at me with concern over her plate of cooling onion rings. “Sabrina, you know I love your big ideas,” she says. “But there is this thing called a budget.”

“And you still need to pay me my commission,” Harper Braedon chimes in. “Those bracelets won’t make themselves.”

I flutter my hand dismissively. “Of course we’ll pay you. We compensate artists for their work around here.”

Harper and Kara exchange a look. “There won’t be a budget to pay her from if we’re turning T-shirts into light sticks,” Kara says.

“Introducing you two was a mistake,” I grumble.

But even their typical reminders of practicality can’t erase the smile stamped on my face.

Harper has fit more seamlessly into the Spirit Committee group than I ever expected, given her gripes about school spirit in the past. She and Kara even listen to the same podcasts.

At the other end of the booth, Naomi Jones and Priya Ahmed are sharing a BLT.

Priya’s a vegetarian, so she’s always more than happy to give Naomi the bacon off her half of the sandwich.

The two of them couldn’t be more different or more inseparable—Naomi’s blond hair is sun bleached and she wears a blue gingham dress, while Priya’s in practical cargo pants, her thick, dark hair in a braid.

Even though Priya could monologue for hours about the manipulative nature of social media apps, she’s obediently peering over Naomi’s shoulder while she scrolls through videos of other schools’ pep rallies for inspiration.

“We don’t need a lot of money to put together a more creative routine than Washington.” Naomi never takes her eyes from her phone. “Totally stale. If we can’t beat them on budget, we’ll win when it comes to originality.”

“Good. Because it has to be perfect,” I say. “This is—”

“Senior year,” they chorus. But they don’t have the requisite amount of joy in their tone—in fact, one might call it something closer to exhaustion.

Times I’ve reminded them it’s our senior year in this meeting so far: Four? Five?

“Sorry,” I say. “I just want this year to be the best yet. It’s our last chance to celebrate this place together, you know? Before everyone goes who-knows-where next year.”

Kara’s gaze softens. We’ve been friends since middle school, and she’s always been willing to navigate if I’ll drive; I made sure her boyfriend, Will, knew how to waltz for her quince, and for my sweet sixteen, she convinced him and the entire football team to sing “Happy Birthday” in three-part harmony during a school assembly; she taught me how to get my eyeliner wings even and I taught her about color theory; she’s been dreaming of going to California for college for four years, and I’ve been hoping she won’t actually leave me for three years and three hundred and sixty-four days.

And she knows exactly how much I’m keeping bottled inside this year, since she had to step in to cover for me when I fell apart last spring.

I’ve lived in two equally lonely worlds since then.

My mom’s house, quiet when I get home from school until I go to bed, notes left on the kitchen table in the middle of the night.

My dad’s summer place in South Carolina, small and weatherworn but steps from the beach, which made it easy to lie in the sun all day, letting its rays bake my skin and bleach all the urgency from my thoughts.

It’s not like Dad knew how to talk to me after the divorce—and I needed the break from walking on eggshells, forcing a smile and always saying just the right thing to keep tensions from flaring again.

And now I’m back: gliding down the sidewalks of Hamilton Lakes, to-do list in hand, smiling for everyone. Even if it’s sometimes a lot of effort… at least with my friends, I’m not lonely.

“This year will be perfect.” Kara bumps my shoulder gently with hers. “What else do you have planned?”

I recognize a life preserver when it’s thrown, and I don’t need a second invitation to grab on.

“Well, of course we have to fundraise for homecoming. I want to do another Spirit Committee flash mob at lunch in September—maybe a few, if more of the dance team is willing to choreograph? And I’ve been dreaming up a program for new students.

We can show them around on the first day of school, point out the shortcuts to the science wing, give tips about teachers—that sort of thing. ”

I lean down to slurp triumphantly on my strawberry milkshake, but the straw only gurgles its death rattle against the bottom of my empty glass.

Priya pounds her fist on the table. “Hear, hear! Let’s get this girl another milkshake. Gotta keep her strength up.”

I laugh, and Harper’s already sliding out of the booth with a grin, heading for the kitchen. It pays to have someone on the inside at the Lakeside, and ever since Harper and I connected last winter, she’s been an unfailingly loyal addition to the group.

For a moment, I feel lighter. This year will be great, full of memories with my friends and bonding for our school and plenty to keep me busy and distracted. It will be normal, but normal-plus. Normal with glitter.

Then my phone dings, and my stomach drops. I’m starting to have a Pavlovian reaction to that tone—and not a good one.

There could be a lot of people texting me, but lately it’s been one particular person. His name is turning into my least favorite four-letter word.

Ryan: so are you over your jet lag yet??

Ryan: what’s the time difference to South Carolina?

One minute later:

Ryan: alex just told me we’re on the same time zone.

Ryan: still, I bet you’re tired

Ryan: all that travel

Ryan: but lmk when you have time to meet up?

Ryan: we should talk about that party

A tiny sliver of me is impressed by how much the guy simply doesn’t care about double, triple—septuple?—texting.

But the rest of me is suddenly bogged down with dread.

I’d hoped (maybe naively) that when I went to stay with my dad for the summer, anything lingering between us after the end-of-year party in June would just…

fade away. Ryan’s never been a guy to get attached, and given what a mess that night turned into, I was sure he’d want to let it go.

I’m certainly not looking to start something this fall.

Too much to do and no time for a relationship, thank you very much.

Especially not with Hamilton Lakes’s most notorious flirt.

But number of times Ryan has texted me since I got back? At least twenty. Three of those were admittedly glorious selfies, one making the most devastating puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen, and they’d almost tempted me.

Almost.

By the time I look back up, there’s a second melting milkshake on my place mat, and the whole booth is watching me.

How long was I dissociating?

“Who was that?” Kara asks, eyes narrowed.

I groan and click my phone off. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Naomi whistles. “That boy is persistent.”

I swirl the straw through my milkshake with all the vigor of my internal turmoil. “I can’t wait for hockey season to start again so he has somewhere to put all that misplaced energy. Besides, I don’t get it. Wasn’t he dating Haley and Olivia this summer?”

Naomi nods. “Haley, then Olivia, then Haley again. As far as I could tell. Though Olivia’s been on his story a lot more lately? So maybe the pendulum is swinging once again?”

I throw my hands up. “Exactly! How does he have the audacity to reach out to me when he has something going with half the school?”

Priya frowns. “Have you told him you’re not interested?”

I brandish my phone in the air. “I thought leaving him on read all summer would send a pretty clear message!”

She arches one skeptical eyebrow. “Well, it clearly did not. Have you considered… an honest conversation?”

I shudder theatrically, and they laugh right on cue. But I’m not really joking, because there’s no way I’m having that conversation if I can avoid it. Too many ways for it to blow up in my face, like the last time the truth came out in my life.

Ryan is woven into every thread of the Hamilton Lakes social web—and that’s the one place my life is still normal. Still surrounded by love and laughter instead of silence and hurt feelings.

If I lose that, then I’m really alone this year.

Kara nudges me gently, bringing me back to Earth. “Well, you know Ryan. He’s the kind of guy who will always think he has a shot unless you’re dating someone else.”

I snort. “You might be right. Well, y’all are going to have to be my bodyguards this year, because there’s no way that’s happening. This is not the time.”

Harper fiddles with her bracelets, humming knowingly. “I’ve heard that one before…”

As if on cue, Luke Dawson sweeps in, hair slightly damp from a postpractice shower. He scans the diner, eyes locking on to Harper with the focus of a heat-seeking missile, and makes a beeline our way.

She turns just as he wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, bending over her for a kiss.

They keep it PG—Priya will be the first to holler at them to get a room if tongues come out—but her head tilts back, and his hand comes up to cup her chin, and even if it’s PG, I think it would make Disney kinda uncomfy.

I can’t help smiling proudly as I watch.

Moments like this make it hard to remember Harper and Dawson used to hate each other’s guts.

The memory of Harper being ostracized by the entire student body still stings—of course, I had to do my best to save her from that kind of drama.

I don’t know what I’d do if I lost the safe space Hamilton Lakes High gives me, where things may be busy, but as long as I deliver, I’m met with smiles and gratitude.

Priya clears her throat, and they reluctantly break apart.

Harper looks at me sheepishly. “So, um…”

I wave a hand, laughing. “Yeah, meeting adjourned. Just get me those bracelets by the first day of school, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” But her voice is distant, her smile turned up at Dawson.

He grimaces. “Sorry, Sabrina. But Harper has all year to help the Spirit Committee. I only have a few days to—”

“Go, go, get out of here!” I’m laughing harder now. “Spare me the details, please!”

He grins devilishly, already tugging her out of the booth. Harper waves a distracted goodbye, looking up at him with her face aglow as they head for the door.

Dawson’s leaving for the Chicago Steel later this week, and I don’t blame those two for enjoying every last minute together before they have to navigate long distance. And I can’t deny the warm flutter in my stomach at the way they smile at each other.

But I drag my eyes back to my phone and reality.

Even if senior year were the time for love, that’s not the kind of thing I have with Ryan.

I know better than anyone how rare those follow-you-to-the-ends-of-the-Earth feelings are, how quickly the weaker version fades away.

I don’t have anyone inspiring that in me—and if it’s not going to last, why pursue it?

Not when I can still hear Mom asking Dad When did things change? in a tear-soaked voice.

My throat constricts, and I shake my head to clear out those thoughts. One thing’s for sure: I don’t need to take on the burden of another doomed relationship. I’d much rather focus on the things I can control this year—the things I can make a surefire success.

I tap the screen awake to update my list. I have plans to make, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.