A steep flight of stairs rose up in front of me, and I sighed. My body and stairs aren’t exactly friends, and the last thing I needed was to be out of breath when I reached the top. That would draw even more attention to me, and I hated attention. At that moment, a girl and a guy walked past me, arm in arm, laughing, looking like a pair of Insta models and taking the stairs two at a time: #couplegoals.

Despite my previous silver lining–laced thoughts, I was beginning to get the distinct impression that I wasn’t going to like it here, nor was I going to fit in. I hoped this was going to be worth it. But judging by my brother’s first day at school yesterday, it was unlikely. As my mom and I had been leaving the school, he’d burst out of the classroom, thrown himself onto the gate, and tried to climb over it while screaming at the top of his lungs. Let’s hope day two would be better.

I made it to the top of the stairs, impressed that my breathing hadn’t even kicked up a notch—probably due to all the nervous adrenaline surging through my veins.

“Hey!” someone called, but I didn’t look up. Surely they weren’t talking to me?

But when a foot entered my field of vision, and a body blocked my path to the entrance, I was forced to look up.

Small, cut-off denim shorts. White crop top, exposed flat stomach. Dewy complexion, impossibly long, blond hair. Conditioner-commercial hair.

“Hey, are you the new girl?” conditioner commercial asked, her blue eyes and hair actually glinting in the morning light.

“Uh . . . yes. Lori,” I stuttered, averting my gaze.

“Hi! I’m Amber Long-Innes, and this is Teagan.” She sounded so perky, as if she was high on the sunbeams themselves. I looked from her to Teagan, who in contrast to Amber was olive-skinned and dark-eyed, with the poutiest lips I’d ever seen. Then her lips parted, and she smiled at me. I was almost knocked off my feet, it was so big and luminous.

Okay, okay. I have a confession to make. A big one. As much as I like to mentally slag off girls like this, silently judge and mock, I’m jealous as hell of them. There, I said it! Not to mention truly and utterly intimidated. My acerbic, inner sarcasm is just a defense for my outward fears and insecurities. Dr. Finkelstein once explained that defense mechanisms were essential to survival, that many creatures had them. Well, at least I wasn’t a Malaysian exploding ant.

“I’m president of the BWH SRC,” Amber chirped.

“SRC?” I was unfamiliar with this acronym.

“Student Representative Council,” she cooed.

“And I’m VP,” Teagan added.