11. Mallory
MALLORY
It was my first day at Elmwood Public High School. The first day of my senior year, and I had no idea how to feel about it.
Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Hopeful. Unsure. Essentially all the emotions.
I took extra time getting ready in the morning, standing in front of my mirror longer than necessary, fussing with my uncooperative hair, reapplying lip gloss, and dissecting my outfit choice. Not because I cared what everyone thought. Okay, maybe I cared a little.
I changed three times before settling on comfort, clothes that made me feel good and confident. I would need all the confidence I could get to make it through this day. The firsts were always the hardest, not that the second or third was much better, at least not in my experience.
Studying my reflection, I chewed on my lip, wondering if I should have gone with the lacy cream tank instead of the distressed vintage tee.
Screw it. I had to get going before I was late.
Slipping my feet into a pair of worn sneakers, I moved to my dresser, adding silver rings on three different fingers, thin bands I’d collected over the years.
The final touch was a crystal necklace resting against my collarbone, the stone catching light and throwing tiny rainbows.
At the last second, I braided my hair loosely over one shoulder, a few strands escaping to frame my face, applied mascara, and added my favorite vanilla scent.
The girl in the mirror looked calm. Put together. Normal.
Precisely the goal.
But really, if I was being honest with myself, which I tried not to be too often, there was only one person I wanted to impress, and I tried hard not to think about him. About those mesmerizing light-green eyes and tattoos. Instead, I cursed Maddox Corvo for making me feel anything at all.
I grabbed my canvas messenger bag, tossed in my phone, a thick-ass notebook, my pen case, headphones, my essentials bag, and headed downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen, coffee in hand, and still in her PJs.
She smiled when she saw me. “You look beautiful. I can’t believe my baby is a senior.”
“Don’t get sappy on me. I don’t want to redo my makeup. It took long enough as it is.” I grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, shoving it in my bag for later, just in case my appetite returned.
“How did you sleep?”
I shrugged. “I’ve had better nights.” I didn’t say anything about what I thought I saw. The last thing I needed her to do while I was at school was scour the woods for a potential Peeping Tom.
“Nervous?” she asked, lifting her coffee to her lips.
“Terrified,” I admitted, leaning against the counter.
She crossed to me and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re going to do great. Better than great. You’re Mallory fucking Hales. You can handle anything. Now go show those boys who the new girl in town is.” She lifted her other hand, the car keys dangling from her finger.
My lips twisted. “I can take the car?”
“Today you can. We’ll figure out a more reliable schedule, but I’m working at home today, so I don’t see why you can’t drive on your first day. It’s not a Rolls-Royce, but—”
I launched myself into her arms, squeezing. “Thanks, Mom. Seriously.”
Careful not to spill her coffee, she wrapped her arms around me. “I love you, Malibu. I want nothing more than for you to find happiness.”
Wrinkling my nose, I stepped out of the hug. “I’m not sure I’m going to find happiness in a public high school.”
She flicked the end of my nose. “You might be surprised. You might fall in love. Just don’t come home pregnant on your first day.”
“Mom!” Rolling my eyes, I took the keys and headed out before my mouth decided to get loose and say shit about a boy I did or did not like.
The hallway buzzed with voices, lockers slamming, and shoes squeaking against polished linoleum floors.
The smell of industrial cleaner, paper, hormones, and cafeteria food hit me as soon as I stepped foot inside Elmwood Public.
The halls were more cramped than I’d expected.
Louder. And completely overwhelming. Students moved in clusters, gravitating toward people they already knew, laughing about summer stories I wasn’t part of, comfortable in their established groups. Everyone already belonged somewhere.
Except me.
I clutched my schedule printout, trying to orient myself with the school map on my phone, when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Matcha!”
I turned, relief flooding through me so fast it made me dizzy at the sight of Paisley appearing in the crowd, ponytail swinging with each energetic step, brown eyes bright and genuinely happy to see me.
She wore cute cotton shorts and a fitted pale-yellow tee that made her look tan.
Atlas walked beside her, scrolling through his phone without bumping into anyone.
I wasn’t sure how he accomplished such a task.
If it was a talent, or if people naturally stayed out of his way.
“You haven’t skipped town yet,” Atlas said, glancing up from his screen.
I blinked, a thrill of familiar fear dancing down my spine, years and years of fight-or-flight response at being found out embedded in my brain. Did they know something? Had they googled me? Had something come up that my mom missed?
Play it cool. “Did you think you scared me off?”
“We wouldn’t have blamed you.” Atlas grinned. “You’re stuck with us now, babe.”
An awkward laugh bubbled out of me, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.
“Ignore him. He’s just pissed none of the football players will give him the time of day.
” Paisley reached into her bag and produced a clear plastic cup with the coffee shop’s logo.
She held it out to me like an offering, ice clanging together.
“Strawberry matcha. Extra strawberries. I thought you might need emotional support in liquid form.”
“Are you kidding? Thank you.” I sighed, taking the drink greedily into my hands. “You’re officially my favorite person. I’m putting you in my will.”
Atlas’s head snapped up. “Excuse me? I hope you have room in it for me.”
“If you tell me how to get to room”—I glanced at the piece of paper in my hand—“248, I’ll leave you Angel.” Angel was my stuffed bunny and my most prized possession, but he had no idea.
Atlas looped his arm through mine. “That sounds kinky.”
Paisley ignored him, reaching for the paper schedule I’d been clutching. “Let me see what academic trauma you signed up for.” She scanned my schedule, her finger tracing down the list of classes.
Atlas leaned over her shoulder, reading alongside her. “Oof. AP bio first semester. Brave. Reckless. Slightly unhinged. I like it.”
“Is it bad?” I asked, anxiety creeping back.
“Mr. Gifford is fine,” Paisley said as we moseyed down the hall. “Demanding but fair. It’s just a lot of work.”
“And the homework will consume your soul,” Atlas said as he led me along. “Not to mention the lab work.”
“Comforting,” I muttered.
We compared schedules, discovering I had English with Paisley second period and history with Atlas fifth. They walked me to my first class, calculus, giving me the general layout of the school and how each hall was dedicated to a subject.
Since lunch was broken up by year, all seniors were given lunch sixth period, and we were allowed off campus during our break. So I didn’t have to stress or worry about eating alone. We made plans to meet at the front office since it was centrally located.
Did I look for Maddox or Mason as I went through my morning classes? I couldn’t stop myself, but so far, I’d only heard their names murmured on several girls’ lips. They were a popular topic.
By third period, my nerves had settled into almost manageable.
I walked into AP biology, feeling like I nearly had the swing of Elmwood Public. The room was set up differently from my other classes, with lab tables instead of desks, each one black-topped and equipped with gas outlets, sinks, and only two chairs. We would be paired off.
I scanned the room, looking for an empty seat, preferably in the back.
Only a handful of my peers had arrived, so I basically had my pick.
I meandered to the far back row and plopped behind a table beside a boy with glasses.
He gave me a shy, nervous smile, which I returned. He seemed like a safe partner.
Busying myself, I pulled out my notebook and biology text as I waited for the bell to ring. A hush fell over the room, the chatter dying in that weird way that made you realize something was happening. I lifted my head and understood what the fuss was about.
Maddox fucking Corvo had entered the room, drawing every eye, including the professor’s, whose lips tugged downward as if pulled by a string.
If Maddox had been an inch or two taller, he would have had to duck to get through the door, his broad shoulders nearly taking up the entire doorway.
His dark hair fell messily to one side as if he’d dragged a hand through it once and left it there.
The white tee clung to his chest in all the right places, tattoos peeking out at his forearms. I’d always been attracted to guys with ink, and I was curious how many more he had.
Did they mean something? I wanted a closer look, and I wasn’t the only one.
The girl sitting at the table one over sighed, not that I blamed her. It was quite the sight watching Maddox saunter into the room. Those light-green eyes swept right over me, and I was about to exhale in relief when they darted back, clashing with mine and staying.
Fuck.
My heart cartwheeled.
How did he do that?
With those piercing eyes still connected to mine, he started toward me.
No way. There is no way he will sit next to me. Right?
Did I want him to?
It didn’t matter what I wanted, because the seat beside me was occupied as I suddenly remembered the boy with glasses.
The room seemed to collectively hold its breath as Maddox passed empty tables, and every girl he approached straightened in her seat. I nearly laughed out loud at the outrageousness of it all.