𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙎 𝙄𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉. He sleeps through his alarm almost every morning and has to be woken up by his mother rapidly firing Spanish words. Now that Miles goes to a school further away from home, his parents are paying for a dorm room for him to stay in during the week until he comes home during the weekends. Sleeping in a dormitory means that he's no longer woken up by his mother and rushed around to get ready for school every morning.

His roommate, Amadeus Cho, has a set schedule for everything he does, including waking up. Amadeus sets his alarm to 5:00 a.m. every morning much to Miles's dismay. Miles has his alarm for another two and a half hours after his roommate's alarm goes off, but Amadeus is constantly moving around and making noise in the early hours of the morning, so Miles doesn't actually get to sleep in longer than Amadeus. He doesn't even know why he's always up so early—it's kind of inhuman, especially for a teenager.

Miles is a zombie getting ready for school on Tuesday. He brushes his teeth with his eyes half-open and gets dressed into his school uniform that's wrinkled from lying on the floor in a heap.

A few blocks away, Taryn is also getting ready for school. She's more of a morning person, and a night owl, mostly because she doesn't really like to sleep in general. She would rather spend those seven or so hours doing something, such as spray painting new art, sketching new designs, or learning a new, useless skill. She has already taught herself a few close-up magic card tricks, how to do some celebrity impressions, how to do a handstand, and a few other random tricks. She enjoys learning new skills, but her sister is not a fan, especially when Taryn is being too noisy during the night.

Taryn's mother usually works the night shifts at Walmart since they pay more, so she's always asleep when her children wake up in the morning. Megan is taking classes at a community college so she doesn't have to get ready for school every morning with Zach and Taryn. Zach is re-doing his senior year in high school, and Taryn is in her junior year. The two have their drivers licenses but have to take the bus to school every day because they lack a vehicle.

Today, Taryn tries extra hard not to be late to the bus stop because her grade level is going on a field trip to an art museum. The art itself isn't the reason why she wants to go, nor is the fact that going on a field trip means that she gets a free pass from her classes all day. The reason has to do with the cans of spray paint she shoved in her backpack that morning. As she boards the school bus behind her brother, she can't help but smile mischievously.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Zach asks as he glances back at her as they walk down the bus aisle to an open seat, his brow furrowed.

Taryn rolls her eyes, her hands pushing off against all of the backs of the seats they pass. "I'm trying to hold in a laugh because of how stupid your haircut looks."

He stops mid-aisle and turns around to face her. He instinctively runs a hand through his mop of maple-colored hair on his head. "Do you want to say that to my face, shit-head?"

"Merrick kids! Sit down!" The obnoxious bus driver lady screams back at the two. The Merrick siblings are known to cause a scene on the school bus from time to time, so it's reasonable that the woman would get involved. Since Zach hates the bus driver more than he hates Taryn, he makes a noise of annoyance before turning back around and plopping into an empty seat—the last empty seat.

Taryn sighs in frustration and looks around for a seat that is occupied by someone she wouldn't mind sitting next to for ten minutes.

Her eyes fall on a seat with a scrawny freshman with big, wiry glasses and long black hair. She avoids eye contact like the plague as Taryn steps closer to her seat and sits down. She inconspicuously scoots closer to the window and presses her backpack on her lap closer to her chest.

"Can I sit here?" Taryn asks as the bus chugs into motion.

The girl barely nods.

Taryn's original intentions were to sit down, put in her earbuds, and ignore the girl the entire way to school. She goes against everything she is and turns to the girl to introduce herself. "Hi. I'm Taryn."

The girl's head slowly turns, her eyes darting from the dingy window to Taryn's.

"Hi," She replies, her voice soft and gentle, like she was talking with a sleeping baby in her arms. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she quickly adds, "I'm Idie."

"That's a cool name."

"It's Nigerian."

"Nice."

The conversation ends there. Idie looks back out the window and stays silent, and Taryn figures she's had enough human interaction for the morning and tucks her earbuds in her ears.

Once the bus parks in front of the school to let the students out, Taryn gives Idie one last glance before standing and following everyone into the school. She adjusts the collar of her school uniform, low-key hating it because it just looks so formal and cookie-cutter, especially since everyone else is wearing the exact same thing. Taryn's just glad that she's not forced to wear a skirt and can wear pants like the boys.

She keeps her earbuds in and shuts the gossiping and laughing from her classmates out as she makes her way to the auditorium and waits in the corner, her shoulder resting against the wall and looking down at her phone.

She's mindlessly scrolling through her feed when Miles walks in. She doesn't notice his presence, and much to Miles's dismay, neither does anyone else. He lets out a huff as his confidence falters. Back at his old school, everyone loved him and immediately took notice when he waltzed in. Being in this larger school full of intelligent kids, the majority of them rich, Miles just feels like a nobody.

Miles tries to find a friend out of the sea of students waiting to go on the field trip to the art museum, and it takes a while until he spots a familiar face: Ganke.

"Hey, what's up—"

Ganke turns the other way and greets one of his newer friends, the two boys engaging in some bro-hug/handshake as they laugh at something the other said.

Miles clears his throat, clutches onto the straps of his backpack, looks away, and brushes it off. It's fine, he understands that Ganke has new friends. Miles will just talk to him later at the art museum.

A teacher enters the room and announces that they're getting on the bus to leave now. Miles gets in line and waits by himself, Taryn moving to get in line behind him as she continues to listen to her music with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets.

The entire grade level stuffs two buses full before they head off towards the art museum. Taryn's phone dies halfway there, so she just pretends to listen to music so the person sitting next to her doesn't try to talk to her.

By the time they arrive at the art museum, Taryn can't stop herself from feeling anxious. What she has planned will definitely get her art displayed on both local and national news stations, especially since it's the famous Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Anxiety fills her chest, tightening it, but an excited smile tugs at her lips.

The students file out of the buses and enter the prestigious building. As soon as her sneaker-clad feet hit the polished linoleum floors and she looks up, she freezes. There is a line of people going through security checks—jackets being taken off, some IDs being checked, and security officers digging through bags.

A body runs into Taryn's back. She stumbles forward, gaining her balance as she turns to mutter a quick apology to the student who ran into her after she froze in her steps. Her eyes meet Miles's.

"Sorry," both teenagers say simultaneously.

Miles laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. "It's okay, I should've been watching where I was going."

Taryn just nods and turns back around, continuing to walk in the line that feeds into the security line. She racks her brain for ideas to get out of this situation, but with the line moving rapidly and eyes on her from teachers, MoMA staff, and security cameras, she feels trapped.

Miles sighs and hooks his thumbs on the straps of his backpack. He's just staring ahead for a while, wondering what the class will have for lunch, when he feels something crawl up his pant leg. He frowns and looks down. There's a small lump under his pants that moves upwards. His eyes widen.

"What the—?!" He exclaims in a whisper and swats at the lump as it crawls onto his stomach under his shirt. He misses, and swats at it a second time. He misses again.

The lump goes to his left shoulder. Miles sticks his arm out as it crawls down his sleeve.

Then, a spider pops out from under his sleeve and crawls on his hand. He's never seen that kind of spider before. It's got a variety of colors spotting its body, and it's eyes are so freaky and twitchy and creepy.

"Ew, ew, ew, ew!" He shakes his hand, but the spider sticks to his palm. Miles attracts the attention of Taryn standing in front of him. She looks over her shoulder at him curiously as he freaks out and shakes his arm wildly.

A sharp pain erupts in Miles's hand. He shrieks and holds his wrist as he holds his hand with a big bite in the middle of it up to his face. The spider's no where to be seen.

Taryn quickly scans the room as a few teachers come to Miles's aid. A security guard looks their way.

She looks down at Miles's hand. A big red bite is swollen

"What's going on?" A teacher who's chaperoning the field trip asks Miles, who looks close to tears.

He holds his throbbing hand against his chest and sucks up the pain with a deep breath. "Nothing. I just got bit by a bug."

The teacher gives him a quizzical look, but accepts his answer and returns to the front of the line, which is nearing with every second that passes.

Taryn thinks hard. There's no way they'd let her bring her backpack in. She could get suspended, or worse, expelled if she gets caught. She can't just throw all her mother's hard work to get Taryn and her siblings where they are down the drain.

Her eyes slide to the side and she narrows in on a restroom sign. Bingo.

Taryn quickly scans the perimeter before ducking her head and stepping out of line, her feet carrying her towards the bathrooms. All is going smoothly until a large hand wraps around her bicep, holding her in place.

"You can't go up there until you pass security," a scary-looking security guard tells Taryn as he looks down at her intimidatingly, one hand keeping her still and the other on his utility belt hovering over a walkie-talkie.

Taryn gives him a fake smile and rips her arm out of his grasp. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"You can leave your bag here to get through security first—"

"But I need my bag," Taryn says, cutting him off. When he looks at her obliviously, she gives him a stern look. "Since I am a woman," she adds.

The security guard nods and clears his throat. "Right, my bad. Don't forget to get back in line when you return."

"Roger that," Taryn says with a convincing smile before turning and making a casual bee-line to the bathroom. Once she gets inside, however, she hurries to bend over and check under all the stalls to make the bathroom is empty. Once she's satisfied, Taryn peels her backpack off her back, zips it open, and sets it on the sink counter under the mirror. She moves to the metal tampon and pad dispenser before rattling the front of it until it comes loose. She carefully sets it on the floor before taking half of the feminine products and stuffing it inside her backpack until they completely cover the cans of spray paint lying on its side at the bottom of the bag. She re-organizes the bag, shifting the position of some folders until she's satisfied.

When she's done, Taryn pops the front back on the feminine product dispenser loosely before sipping up her backpack and swinging it over her shoulders.

The security guard who confronted Taryn watches her as she exits the bathroom. She makes eye contact with him as she steps right back in line in front of Miles, who is starting to sweat profoundly. He scratches the bite on his hand like a rash.

Taryn stands on her tip-toes and peers ahead of the line. There are only two people in front of her, so she swiftly looks over the security guards checking bags. One by one, the people in front of Taryn disappear until she's next.

Her fingers anxiously tap against her leg as she waits for the next free station.

A hand goes up. "I can help who's next."

It's a woman with short black hair and dark blue eyeshadow. Taryn steps back, almost backing into Miles, and shoves him forward. He stumbles, not expecting that at all.

"Cut me," Taryn says with no explanation.

Miles gives her an odd look. "Um, okay . . ." He makes his way to the woman with blue eyeshadow and slips his backpack off his back.

Another hand goes up. "Next."

Taryn glances over at the free station. A tall, thin man stands behind the counter, his gaze on Taryn as he waits for her to come over. She does.

She peels the bag from her shoulders and sets it on the table in between them. The man, whose name tag says Robert Cummings, zips the backpack open. He moves a folder to the side and peers in the bag. Taryn watches as he awkwardly ends his search upon eyeing the tampons and pads and codes the bag, pushing it towards Taryn.

"Thank you. Next!"

Taryn smiles at him as she takes her backpack back and slings it over her shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips.

Miles, who is waiting with the rest of his class, catches Taryn's mischievous smile as she joins the group. He rubs the bite on his hand, subconsciously wondering what she's up to.

He doesn't have too much time to dwell on the thought before a teacher calls their attention to her so they can get the tour started.