“No way!” She widened her eyes. “They’re, like, Grant’s nemesis.”

“Nemesis?”

“I know; it’s so pathetic,” she said, almost enjoying it. “Their swim team is the only one we can’t beat.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wait until Dean finds out. He’ll either ask you to join the Vikings or make your life a living hell for being a Seal.”

“He’s on the team? Of course, he’s on the team,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“He’s the captain. But Ethan is the better swimmer,” she said, looking over my shoulder in their direction. “They’re best friends.”

Unlike Dean, this Ethan guy didn’t seem to be a shit person. I didn’t know why I thought that though. I’d only looked for about a second.

For the remainder of the class, Sam explained Grant Academy to me. Who everyone was, who they hung out with, the gossip, the scandals, ideal places to smoke—things like that. By the time the bell rang, two things had happened: I’d made a friend, which was kind of nice, and I was pretty certain I fucking hated Grant Academy.

Sam and I had lunch together, and that’s when I met Blake and Adam. Blake was Sam’s best friend and also Adam’s girlfriend. They’d all known one another their whole lives and couldn’t wait to graduate. They also shared a special resentment concerning the swimming team, which was interesting once Sam mentioned I used to go to Magnolia.

“Shit, I’m sorry, dude.” Adam said, embarrassed.

“Why?” I asked.

“Here we are talking about how lame the team is, and all the while, you—”

“—I don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “I wasn’t on the team or anything.”

I figured I was starting a new school, so there was no need for anyone to know I used to compete. That seemed like a lifetime ago anyway.

“You weren’t?” Sam asked, looking me up and down.

I shook my head.

It wasn’t even a lie, not really; I hadn’t been a part of the team in years.

“Oh,” she said.

“What?” I asked, intrigued.

“You just look like a swimmer,” Blake said.

“Is that a compliment?”

“I don’t know,” she said, squinting.

We all laughed.

*

I ditched last period and went to the library instead. Grant had a huge library, way bigger—and better—than Magnolia’s. Took me ages to find the book I wanted to.

“Sartre?” I heard someone softly say.

I looked up at the guy Dean was talking to, Ethan, standing in front of me. He had his head tilted to the side as he read the cover, and it was then I realized he was the same guy from the coffee shop.

“Uh, yeah,” I said slowly.

“Cool.” He straightened his back. “I like Sartre.”