“I’m making a new map tonight,” Ollie says. “It will be in Ms. Connors’s box in the morning.”
I snort. “Not again.”
“I want to contribute to the community, Halle. My motives are pure.”
We’re headed in opposite directions. So we bump fists, promise to reunite at lunch, and go our separate ways. Ollie will probably have his own crew by then.
For a small school, it still feels like people are everywhere. I go upstairs and down two hallways, my pulse speeding with each wrong turn. I pause against a row of lockers, giving the trash map one more pass, as though I can will some useful information to appear out of nothing. Alas, this is not the Marauders Map.
“Hey, Upstate. Need help?”
It takes me a second to look up.
Of course. My stomach can’t decide if it wants to twist or flutter.
“This map is horrible,” I say, finally.
“The worst,” Nash agrees. “We’re probably in the same homeroom, though; let me see …” He plucks my schedule out of my hand. Heat radiates from my ears. I feel it when I tuck back a lock of hair. “Yup. H113.”
Levitt to Stevens in one homeroom? That can’t be right. MHS is small, but it’s not that small.
“Alphabetical?”
“Mhm. K for Kim and L for Levitt. Looks like you’re stuck with me.…” He looks down, scanning my class list. “Also looks like we’re taking all the same APs. Cool.”
Wait. That’s not right. He’s supposed to be Nash Stevens.
I blink. “Kim?”
My face is on fire the moment the words spill from my lips.
“I’m so sorry. That’s not what I—”
Nash laughs. “It’s okay. Seriously, it’s not every day you meet a quarter-Asian Jewish person in semi-coastal Connecticut. My friend Sawyer calls me a unicorn. I like the term enigma, personally.”
Nash thinks everything is an enigma. That’s literally his Twitter bio. An enigma, tbh.
“I’m the worst.”
I don’t tell him the truth. I know Nash is a quarter Korean. Of course I know that. It sounds like I’m shocked his last name is Kim. But really, I’m shocked that it’s not Stevens. And that maybe I, Kels, don’t know him as well as I thought I did. So now he’s going to think I sputtered Kim like I’ve never seen a multiracial human in my life.
Where is backspace when you need it?
My stomach muscles constrict. Day one at Middle-of-Nowhere High, and I, Halle, have already made a complete ass of myself. To Nash. Before homeroom, nonetheless. The day hasn’t even started yet!
“Most people are surprised.” Nash shrugs. “Because I’m definitely white passing. Long story short, my grandpa is Korean. My dad is half. And now, here I am. Boom, math.”
We stop in front of H113. I’ve never been more relieved to get to class.
Middle back. That’s my first day of homeroom seat. Front is too eager. Back corner is too angsty. Middle back is just right, a place where I can sink into my chair in humiliation, open a blank notebook, and start brainstorming titles for a fall roundup post. Nash will be distracted enough by all the talking heads around me that he won’t even notice I’ve slipped away.
“Nash! Hey!”
I turn to the voice, but all I see is raven-black hair. Tight spiral curls cascade down her back. She waves to Nash and points to the two empty desks behind her. Middle right. Nash motions for me to follow with a head nod, and I do because all the middle back seats are taken and I can’t ghost after that. At least middle right is an okay alternative, and we only have homeroom on the first day of school. It’s not like I’ll be stuck next to Nash all year.
I follow him and everyone’s eyes follow me.
Okay, do I have lipstick on my teeth? A quick tongue swipe confirms no. Nash told me that Middleton doesn’t get new people often; I guess he wasn’t kidding.
I try to avoid eye contact with all the staring and focus instead on Nash’s seat saver. She’s cute, with a petite frame and soft features. Her makeup is on point—bronze eye shadow makes her brown eyes pop and her deep red lipstick looks perfect. A neutral eye matched with a bold lip is Kels’s favorite combination.
Nash slides into the seat behind her, so I sit next to him. I pull my water bottle out of my backpack and take a long sip. Stall for a few seconds so I don’t have to speak. Introductions mixed with small talk are especially cruel.
“How was the shore?” Nash asks.
“Painful,” the girl says.
She slips down the sleeve of her sunflower shirt dress, revealing a red, blistering shoulder.
“Gross. What happened to SPF 100?”
She sighs. “SPF 1000 wouldn’t be enough.”
Nash laughs and the girl turns to me. “Wait. You’re Halle. Hi! I’m Molly.”
“Hi,” I say.
I almost said I know.
Because now I do. She’s Molly Jacobson. Nash’s IRL best friend. Wow. Meeting Nash is enough to process. Being introduced to the people in his IRL world? People who are now a part of my world? It’s too much. Online, talking to Nash as Kels, it’s easy to forget that he has people, real people, outside of Book Twitter and blogging.
He’s my best friend. I’m his best internet friend.
I hate that distinction.
Nash and Molly swap schedules and discuss The Situation. AP overlaps, study blocks. Important details, like who’s where when. They’re calculating how many minutes they can possibly spend with their core crew until the final bell rings at two-fifteen.
Meanwhile, I’m counting down the minutes until I can go home and update my blog and message my Nash, not the actual human sitting a foot away from me.
“I have the second lunch block,” Nash says.
“Me too!” Molly says.
“Third period study?”
“Fifth.”
“Damn.”
Molly glances at her cell. “Sawyer is second lunch too—and, hey, so is Autumn!”
“Sweet, Le Crew lunch is complete.”
I pretend I’m studying my Welcome to Middle-of-Nowhere High School! pamphlet. Then pretend there’s someone on the other side of my phone, not just the overwhelming amount of OTP emails I already have at eight in the morning.
“Halle,” Molly says, “what lunch block are you?”
I look up. “Second,” Nash and I say.
Molly swats Nash’s arm.
He shrugs. “What? We have, like, the same schedule.”
“Dude, it still sounded creepy.”
“Whatever.”
Molly looks at me. “Nash’s creepiness aside, you can totally sit with us. We can introduce you to everyone.”
I should say no. Given our near-identical course load, it looks like Operation: Avoid Nash is already a no go. He’s going to be a part of my Middleton life whether I like it or not. But if this morning’s disaster showed me anything, it’s that I should keep things strictly academic between us. I shouldn’t socialize with him. I shouldn’t get to know Le Crew. I shouldn’t get to know him, IRL.
Still, lunch is always, without a doubt, difficult on day one. I see myself standing in the cafeteria, frozen, with no choice but to crash Ollie’s sophomore table. So despite my self-imposed No-Nash Policy, I nod, and Molly smiles.