I liked to think of Riverside as a gracious kind of town: We acknowledged others' greatness and celebrated it. And it wasn't just because our quaint and simple charms were so often overshadowed by the flashy glamour of the neighboring areas, either. Our town wasn't completely eluded by success. Maybe Off-Kilter's was on a much grander scale than we were used to, but it wasn't unprecedented.

Riverside North High—the school I went to—for instance, had its share of notable alumni. Among them were: a number of professional and college-level athletes, a handful of players on Broadway, and a class valedictorian, who was also—according to pure speculation—an imminent Nobel Prize winner.

This was evidenced by the various medals, trophies, plaques, and framed news clippings stored behind glass display cases. I had been staring at them for the past couple of minutes today, my first day of junior year.

Everyone got first period off to sort out their schedules, get their books and locker assignment, and to do whatever else to make sure that the rest of the day went smoothly. Alex and I found her locker first; it was right next to the trophy cases. The same ones I had been staring at as I waited for her.

I continued to stare at the case's contents, particularly the ones belonging to the last person I mentioned. People seemed to expect that person to cure cancer, end world hunger, and reverse the effects of global warming all within the next ten years. There was a picture of her—a girl with pale hair and doe eyes—from the time she was invited to a special event for young achievers held at the White House. She had already graduated by then, but I guess the school kept tabs on whoever put us on the map.

I wasn't saying the school or the town was wrong; she very well could live up to everyone's expectations, if she made saving the world a priority. The thing was, I had it on good authority that she had other interests that she pursued more relentlessly.

"Hey, I'm done. Let's go find yours." Alex appeared beside me and broke into my thoughts. She went quiet once she realized what I was looking at.

"Know why this school feels like home to me?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the picture where the same girl smiled as if she could read my thoughts. I wasn't sure she couldn't. "There's so much of my sister's crap lying around here, too."

Summer St. Clair, the girl in the picture, was five years older than me and started college the year I started high school. That had always felt like a mixed blessing. On one hand, I didn't have to be physically in her shadow at all. On the other, her legend grew exponentially every year, and every year, I became a greater disappointment, in comparison.

"Who cares?" Alex scoffed. She snatched the piece of paper I was holding in one hand—it indicated my locker assignment—gave it a quick glance and sped off. I readjusted the stack of books in my arms and followed her. "Free your mind of all that unpleasantness, Adrian. Concentrate on the good things about being back here."

Alex spread her arms wide and took a loud and exuberant breath, as if the noisy hallway filled with disoriented-looking students was the most fascinating sight that she had ever seen. I gave her a sideways glance and made a face.

"Such as? The stellar lunch menu?"

"I even miss that, can you believe it?" Her tone perked up another notch. "I'm not gonna have an appetite for months! Just think of how much weight I'll lose."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. It was way too early for this. Alex tried again.

"Okay, how about this sea of smiling, friendly faces? Hey. Heey," Alex sang as she waved at a pair of boys that we passed. They were cute, I supposed, but I wasn't sure just how friendly they actually were; I had never seen them before in my life. Affecting a weird accent, she added, "How you doin'?"

For God's sake, I thought. "Do you even know those people's names?"

"Sure I do—Fresh Meat Number One and Number Two. One for each of us, and you get to pick first," Alex replied, giggling. I shook my head and ignored her generous offer. She fixed her gaze on a spot ahead of us, and then, facing me, pointed and smiled a chilling kind of smile. "Whoops, never mind. You already have the love of your life, waiting for you right there."

I looked over to where she was pointing and expected to see Seth. Not because of what Alex called him (that would be stupid) but because he was the only person I was keeping an eye out for. So far, Off-Kilter was a no-show and there was no word on whether that was going to change. The suspense was killing me, but even so, I was loath to be the first one to text again.

It wasn't Seth that Alex was talking about but another boy in our grade: Matt Engels. I groaned aloud. He was standing with some people by a row of lockers and caught us looking. He was easily within earshot, too. I could have murdered Alex right there and then.

Matt was another boy Seth and I grew up with. He was a pretty good friend, too, once upon a time. He could easily have been the fourth member of Off-Kilter, except, when the time came, he picked up a basketball instead of a musical instrument and ditched all his old friends to hang with people who made similar life choices.

He was so not the love of my life—although not from lack of trying on his part. Since eighth grade, he had been asking me out every chance that he got. Apparently, I was good enough to try to hook up with but not to actually be friends with. I had tried every way I could think of to let him down easy but some people just couldn't take a hint.

"Shut up, Alex. You're so embarrassing to be around sometimes. I swear, I can't take you anywhere," I said through clenched teeth.

"That's real nice." Alex feigned a hurt expression and brought a hand to her heart. "After I brought you two together."

"You did not bring anyone together! Do we look like we're together?" I protested, with teeth still clenched. Matt waved at us, and Alex and I waved back, with phony smiles on both our faces.

I grabbed Alex's arm and tried as subtly as possible to walk away faster, in case he tried to talk to us. I knew that if Alex were around when he asked me out, she would make sure to blow holes in any excuse I made up to turn him down. That was Alex—always looking out for my love life.

The good news was, he was busy talking with other people and could not approach me. The bad news, I didn't move fast enough to not hear what Matt's friends had to say about me, after I gave him the brush-off.

"Dang, that's cold."

"Stuck up little bitch. Man, who does she think she is?"

"You just gonna take that from her? I sure as hell wouldn't—just saying."

I didn't mind the name-calling; I did my fair share of it, so I couldn't be overly sensitive. The last one, however, made me stop in my tracks. The blood in my veins began to boil and I had half a mind to ask the person who last spoke just what it was, exactly, that he was planning to do instead of just taking it. I turned on my heel, about to do, so when Matt spoke up.

"Nah, she looked like she was in a hurry and probably didn't have time to talk. I'll catch up with her later," he said. He draped an arm around the last guy who had spoken and led him away. The others in his group followed. "We should get moving, too."

As soon as they were some distance away, Matt glanced back and nodded in my direction. The expression on his face struck me as contrite, and it seemed like I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Man, you've got it bad."

"Loser."

Laughter and jeering at Matt's expense could be heard long after he and his friends disappeared into the crowd. He was being a really good sport about it, too, which only made me feel worse. He was certainly handling rejection a lot better than some people I might mention.

I walked back to where Alex was and we continued in the opposite direction in search of my locker and as we walked, I decided that I was going to be nicer to Matt from then on. I owed him that much, at least—especially since this whole mess was partly my fault.

The truth was, I made the first move in eighth grade that got Matt Engels to think that I was interested in him. I never meant to lead him on; it was just a misunderstanding that I never really bothered to straighten out, but maybe it was about time for that to change.

If I really thought about it, I couldn't really blame Matt for not wanting to be friends, either. I kind of sucked. I had been so quick to blame him for everything but maybe it wasn't his fault. It was high school, after all. People changed and drifted apart and he was just the first of many to do so.

Now, more than ever, I needed to accept that and not take it personally. Otherwise the only event I would be attending all year was a pity party. I couldn't let that happen or Alex—my last remaining best friend—would disown me, too.

***

"Bottom locker?" Alex scrunched her nose the moment we found my locker.

"Yup. Just like last year," I laid my books and my backpack on the ground beside me, got on my knees, worked the combination and got started on what had become an annual ritual for me since junior high: giving my locker a thorough wipe-down on the first day of school. I got out my pack of disinfecting wipes and went to work immediately.

"Maybe it's based on height?"

I laughed, knowing exactly what she was implying. "Shut up. We're the same height and if you and your stubby little legs can manage top locker without a stepladder, so can I."

Alex gave a high-pitched gasp. It was a good thing I wasn't at eye level; she couldn't see me grinning from ear to ear. "How dare you? You take that back!" I only laughed again in response and she huffed. "I didn't mean anything by that, you know. It's just that nobody looks attractive all hunched down at their bottom lockers."

I rolled my eyes. Only Alex would make a fuss over locker positions and worry about how one looked because of it.

"Yeah, that makes me feel so much better," I called out. "I wouldn't worry, Alex. I don't think hunching down is the least attractive part of what I'm doing right now."

To prove my point, I held up the disinfecting wipe that I had been using to wipe down the inside of my new locker and showed it to Alex, who recoiled in disgust. It was probably the twelfth sheet I had used and, like the previous ones, it still turned up black with grime.

"Eww!" I said, smirking. I didn't like what I was doing in the least but the fact that it seemed to bother Alex even more gave me a bit of enjoyment.

"Do you really have to do that right now? People can see you!"

"Let them. Maybe they'll clean up their lockers, too." I shrugged and reached as far inside my locker as I could and seeing what my wipe picked up, yelled at the top of my lungs, "Ugh. High school kids are disgusting!"

"The top bitches are already starting to alienate the masses, I see," I heard Erin say. I didn't have to look up to know that Beth was with her.

Alex gave an exasperated sigh. "Will you do something about this?" She asked the two newcomers. Every year, we make her wear nice clothes on the first day of school and every year she still ends up looking like a coal miner before the first class has even started."

"If she gets her clothes dirty, we'll pass by the bathroom and get her cleaned up," Erin replied in a calm voice. I glanced down at the front of my dress; it wasn't the least bit soiled. Only my hands were.

"You know I'm right here, right?" I called out again, a little irritated that they were talking about me as if I were a child. "And if I can clean something as filthy as this locker, I can certainly clean myself up after."

"Do you hear her? She's out of control."

"Don't come crying to me when you come down with the flu—or worse, judging by the looks of some of these kids," I called out loudly, which resulted in me getting shushed by my friends.

This was probably the only thing I would never give in to Alex about; I couldn't stand a dirty locker. Just the thought of someone's dirty personal items in the same space I occupied made the hair on my arms stand on end. This probably—at least in part—explained my aversion to kissing; a lot of germs got passed around from that, too.

Seconds later, Beth spoke up. "That's actually sound advice, if you ask me."

"Beth! Don't encourage her," Alex hissed.

"Hey Adrian, got any more of those wipes?" Beth asked, completely ignoring Alex.

I straightened up and gave her a sideways glance before answering. "Have you met me?" I reached into my backpack and handed it to her; I always brought extras to stash in my locker. Turning to Alex, I said, "This is why I like Beth the best."

Alex scoffed, not the least bit affected. "Be serious, Adrian. No one likes Beth better than they like me."

"You want me to make a list?" Beth challenged.

"Erin doesn't count."

"Hey."

The playful teasing among the three of them continued for a while and I went back to work, laughing along at the funny bits I was able to pick up now and then.

When I was almost finished, I noticed that I could no longer hear them and it was not because I tuned them out. They were drowned out by other voices—lots and lots of other voices. It started as a low buzz of excited whispers that got louder and louder and eventually erupted in applause.

A gathering had started to form in the main hallway, filling it with even more sound and activity than before. Even people who were already inside, having classes, began to spill out of the rooms, adding to the bulk of it until the crowd almost reached where we were. It blocked my view of whatever it was that was causing this frenzy but I kind of already figured it out.

I peered out of my locker and glanced up to see that Alex and Erin, being a couple of busybodies, had already rushed off to pry. I was nosy, too, and under normal circumstances, I would have been right there with them. This time, however, I stayed where I was, unable to move.

Only Beth, who seemed to not care about what was going on, had remained by my side. She caught my eye and smirked. "They're heeerre," she announced in a creepy little girl's voice. A chill ran down my spine and not just because she was quoting a horror movie.

Ladies and gentlemen, Off-Kilter has entered the building.

***

A/N: For some reason, I struggle more with the parts I don't make that many changes to than the parts I do. Haha.

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