“You know, I don’t really think I need to use my locker,” I say, pulling at our interlocked arms. She doesn’t let go. “Seriously, I’m not kidding. I put all the important stuff in my bag. I think the only thing I left in there is my orientation packet.”

“I used my locker, like, once before today,” Claudia offers, locker door swinging open. “But it’s different. You’ve only been here, what, two months? I’ve been here three years.”

“Wait a minute,” Lydia says, holding up her hands. “Who cares about lockers? Simone, anyone would be lucky to have you. This is ridiculous.”

This is the Lydia I know.

I know they’re both speaking the truth—I am pretty awesome. Two months ago, I didn’t even care about finding a boyfriend or having sex or anything like that. I just wanted to focus on integrating into a new place. Now I’m student director of the school musical and know how to find at least half of my classes.

“Maybe the patriarchy is killing my brain cells.” I thump my fingers against my thigh. “Because I sound like I have no self-confidence at all. I’m an awesome bitch.”

“Obviously,” Lydia says. “It’s common knowledge.”

“There’s no reason for anyone to be a dick to you, dude,” Claudia says, holding her poster board against her chest. “If anyone is, tell me so I can kick their ass.”

“Then get your legs ready,” I say. “Because everyone is a dick. All guys our age, anyway.”

“I resent that,” Lydia says. “Ian is cute and sweet.”

Claudia and I give her a pointed look. Lydia folds her arms, huffing.

“Well, no one is perfect. What about that kid from Drama you like?” Lydia says, wisely diverting attention from her boyfriend.

It doesn’t make any sense to compare Ian, president of the Mock Trial team, to Miles Austin. For one thing, I’m fairly certain that Miles is the only black lacrosse player in existence. Somehow, he manages to fit in with the other members of the team, with their clothes from J.Crew and Vineyard Vines. I’m sure the company he keeps says tons about him. None of it is attractive. But, for some reason, Miles still is.

“Well, he’s not a jerk,” I say, counting on my fingers. “He can lift really heavy things like it’s no big deal. He’s fun to talk to. He has a nice ass.”

“I’m so glad I’m not attracted to boys,” Claudia says, pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. I grab her rolled-up poster board, tucking it under my arm. “It sounds exhausting.”

“Maybe you should actually do something about your crush.” The look Lydia gives me is dripping with pity. “If you like someone, you’re supposed to tell them, Simone.”