She sat up and sipped the water I pushed toward her. “Usual crap. Nothing. I dared to come in junior year, they were being awful, I told them to screw off, game on. My parents went to the principal, but their parents are rich—they donate to the school fund, so nothing happened, and who cares?” She picked at her sad salad.

I nodded. Adults love to offer sage advice such as Stand up for yourself; Tell a teacher; or my personal favorite: Try to find common ground, kill them with kindness, and become friends with them! Being the new kid twice a year, every year, has gotten me ignored at best, shoved into lockers, my backpack tossed into dumpsters, descriptions of my supposed sexual prowess Sharpied on bathroom stalls at worst. There is one answer: Keep your head down, lie low. It’ll be over eventually.

“I see the school uniform is the same here as in Seattle,” I said.

She looked up from the salad to watch Katiana holding court at the basic-bitches table, all of them dressed in nearly identical variations on a bland theme.

“Uniform?”

“Black leggings. White sneakers. T-shirt, tank top. Lunch in a red-and-white Lululemon shopping bag with black handles. Tasteless signifiers of mediocrity.” Joellen taught me that one.

“Oh my God. I can never unsee it now…so many Lululemon bags. And you know not one of them has ever seen the inside of a yoga studio.”

“Thank God, because they never shower. Their mats would be alive with microbes and infectious diseases.”

Her smile returned. She accepted another apple slice.

Behind us, a knocking at the window and there was Sean, back from his hike and beautiful as ever. “Hey!” he said, and jogged to the door.

“He liiiikes you,” Kira sang.

“He likes eeeveryone according to youuu,” I shushed her.

“Kira!” He smiled, bending to one-arm hug her shoulders. “Muiriel, how’s your first day?”

“It’s all right. How was the Wonderland?”

“Perfect. Some rain, two bears with cubs, a million stars. Every time is more beautiful than the last.”

“This is Rainier we’re in love with?” Kira asked.

“Yes,” Sean and I sighed together.

She smiled.

“Sean!” came Katiana’s siren screech. “Come sit with us!”

I looked at Kira, resigned and putting the plastic top back on her dumb half-eaten salad. Angry heat flushed my cheeks, familiar from witnessing kids I lived with getting messed with. I stood up and pulled another chair to our table. “Want to sit with us?”

He waved to Katiana and sat beside Kira, pulling out a bag of trail mix. “So listen,” he said. “I missed Natan. He play you any sweet guitar riffs while I was gone?”

I smiled brightly at Katiana, sat down, and pulled my chair closer to Sean’s.

“Oh Jesus,” Kira sighed. “Batter up.”