“It’s fine,” I said, because I was pretty sure I could find it if the rooms were numbered, but she ignored me, exiting the office and pushing through the busy throngs of kids excited to see one another. Some people turned their heads to look at me—Stonington was bigger than my old high school, but that wasn’t saying a whole lot. I had a whopping fifty-five kids in my grade at Auburndale. Here, it was more like two hundred per grade, but that wasn’t so big that new blood wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

I did my best to ignore the scrutiny, instead trying to acquaint myself with my surroundings. Everything at Stonington looked newer than Auburndale, from the lockers to the desks to the bookshelves in the classrooms and the computers in the lab.

“Is this place new?” I asked.

Mrs. Wong nodded, her smart heels still managing to click on the hard floor despite the din of the burgeoning school day. “Mmm-hmm. Three years old. The football field and track are actually built where the old school used to be.”

That explained it.

A floor up and halfway across the building from where we’d started, Mrs. Wong stopped outside of a classroom and gestured me in. Everyone inside, including the teacher at the back of the room with a thick brown mustache and glasses, turned to look at me. The chatter quieted down.

“Mr. Ciullo, this is our new student. Do you prefer Sara or Serendipity?” Mrs. Wong asked, her hand on the small of my back gently but firmly pushing me forward. My boots shuffled over the floor, my eyes skimmed the sea of faces in front of me, most overwhelmingly white, because that’s just how the burbs do in New England, I guess.

Great. I’m diversity-pamphlet material two schools in a row now.

Fun.

“Sara,” I said.

“Okay, everyone. This is Sara Rodriguez, newly transferred in. Be a helper, show her around.” Mrs. Wong leaned in close to me. “Questions, always feel free to stop by. We’ll be checking in regularly, but my door’s always open.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Wong.”

“Hello, Sara!” Came a booming male voice from the back. I followed it to the source. He had black hair slicked back into a ponytail that was just long enough to brush his shirt collar. He was big—both tall and wide—with a fair amount of extra weight and a hell of a great smile. He was also darker than the other kids. I hadn’t picked up on it on my first glance, but he would be accompanying me on my fateful journey onto the diversity pamphlet. He was brownish with deep chocolate eyes.

“That’s enough, Leaf,” Mr. Ciullo said. “Sara, come on in. Have a seat. I’ll do roll call at the bell.”

“Come sit next to me!” the kid named Leaf called out. “I’m friendly.”