“I’m living with my grandmother—Maura Weston—because my mom died.” There are a few gasps behind me. I don’t turn to look. I shrug and sigh. “Cancer sucks…. Anyway, at my old school, I was on yearbook, ASB, and, uh, in the Asian Pacific Islander Club, for some reason.” I laugh at the nonjoke. It’s a lie, anyway. I know the reason—my friend Claire Phan asked me to join with her. “It’s Filipino American History Month, actually, and Diwali is in a few weeks, so, um, get ready,” I add in a ramble.

A girl in the last row laughs. She’s drop-dead gorgeous. And the only nonwhite face in the room, other than Mr. Keating. Oh God, I think she’s Filipino, so she probably thinks I was singling her out. I finish up as a burn rises in my cheeks. “I also like video games, K-pop, bingeing murder shows, and karaoke.” I sit back down and try to disappear into my hoodie. Then the bell rings. I turn to my escort, but she’s a blur of blond and denim, whipping past me and out the door before I can utter a protest. Panic grips my chest. Where am I going now? I stare at my schedule, which tells me next I have AP Enviro in W-2. It’s gobbledygook to me. Shit.

“What do you have next?”

My savior is the pretty Filipino girl. She gestures toward the printout in my hand. It’s easier to give it to her.

“Oh, Environmental Science in Weston next. Better hurry. It’s a hike.” Upon seeing my horrified expression, she confirms, “Yes, it’s named after your grandmother. I’m Bronte, by the way. Come on, I’ll walk you. I’m in W-10.”

I follow her like a lost but grateful duckling. Seaview High—the original building, at least—is basically a giant rectangle. When we exit Mr. Keating’s classroom, there’s a wide staircase leading up and down.

“Gym is there.” Bronte points behind the main staircase. “Cafeteria is down the hall. And we’re going here.” She steers me down a long hallway with classrooms and lockers all along the sides. “This way leads to East Campus, which sounds fancy, but it’s only a handful of extra classroom buildings, plus the performing arts center and the Weston Annex. It’s simply in a slightly more easterly direction—hence the pretentious name.”

We come to a set of double doors that spill out into the courtyard. A breezeway leads across a grassy space to the modernist structure I caught when I arrived. WESTON ANNEX reads a sign affixed beside the front doors. Inside is a sci-fi movie set, with soaring ceilings, floating walkways connecting the upper-floor classrooms, and white everything. This is a high school?