But he had no time to say anything. A woman stood tall in front of Héctor, her arms crossed in front of her, and she wore a head-to-toe gray outfit: gray skirt, gray blazer over a gray shirt, and a gray cloth headband pulling her brown hair back, with impeccably shined gym sneakers on her feet. Everything was perfectly matched.

“Young man, did you hear what I said?”

Héctor did, but he was still lost in all that gray. There was so much of it! Did she dress this way every day? He kinda respected that.

“Sorry,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I’m new here.”

She raised a brow high on her angular face, which only seemed to stretch it longer. “New?” she said. “Did you already go through registration?”

“Last week,” he said. “Mami brought me in to—”

“Because there is an order to things here at Orangevale Middle School,” she said, cutting Héctor off. “You can’t just do as you please, young man.”

“O-okay.” He frowned. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“Did you read our handbook on student conduct?” Seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a pale pamphlet and held it out. “Perhaps you need a refresher.”

He shook his head. “No, I think I’m fine, Ms. . . . Ms. . . .”

“Ms. Heath, head of campus security,” she said, raising her chin higher. “And what is your name?”

“Héctor Muñoz,” he said, beaming up at her.

There was a notepad in her hand. Where did that come from?! he wondered. Where did the pamphlet go?

She scribbled something down. “Hmmm,” she muttered. “Well, off to homeroom. You do know where that is, right?”

“What did you write?”

“Mr. Muñoz, that is none of your business,” she intoned, her voice dropping in pitch. “Please continue to class, and remember: here at Orangevale Middle School, we follow the rules.”

Then she turned and walked off down the hallway, her gym shoes squawking loudly on the tile.

Well, that was odd, he thought. Why had she singled him out? Sure, he was new. Still, it wasn’t the best start to his first day.

A bell rang out. It was flat, an even tone, low and boring. Ms. Heath was still walking away, so he peeked at his phone. His homeroom class started in five, and after that, he’d meet all his new teachers. All his new classmates. Maybe there’d be a kid obsessed with musicals. Or even someone who just liked drama. At this point, he’d take someone who had visited a thrift shop once in their life. He just had to find his people, right?

Héctor stepped into his noisy homeroom class, believing that it could only get better.

Chapter Two

Well, Héctor thought, this is worse.