I awaken to the sound of my blaring alarm clock. I smack the device, sending it to the floor as I begrudgingly leave the comfort of my silk sheets.

"Vange, baby, are you up?" Gram calls from outside my bedroom door.

"Yeah," I groan.

"Good! Get your bum downstairs. Breakfast is almost ready."

I roll my eyes as I amble toward the bathroom to take a quick shower before school. The hot water usually wakes me up, but not today. I can't shake the exhaustion. I went to bed early last night, yet I feel like I didn't sleep at all.

Once I'm dressed in my favorite thrift store jeans, a dark green sweater—Grandpa bought it for me because he thought it would bring out my eyes—and ballet flats, I grab my backpack and hurry downstairs. A mouth-watering aroma fills the air. Without needing to look, I know Gram is making my favorite breakfast: blueberry pancakes.

"Good morning, Grandpa." I place a kiss on the old man's cheek before claiming the seat next to him. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Per usual, I will sit around and twiddle my thumbs," he replies. He retired six months ago and has yet to find a new way to occupy his time. I suggested gardening, but being the indoorsy guy that he is, he rebuffed that idea.

"Hush, Geoffrey," Gram scolds him as she places our breakfast plates in front of us. "You'll find something to do."

"Mhm," he brushes her off, pouring maple syrup all over his pancakes. Once they're completely saturated, he passes the sugary goodness to me with a wink.

I love Grandpa Geoffrey and Grandma Calista more than anything. I've lived with them since I was six years old—since my mother passed away. They've raised me as their own child, and for that, I'm so grateful.

I don't have many memories of my mother. I remember her long mane of red hair and her emerald eyes, which I inherited. I remember her closed-mouth smile that still managed to illuminate a room. I remember her laugh; it was too contagious to forget. Everything else—holidays, trips to the park, even just her helping me with my homework—is a blur.

Then there's my piece-of-shit sperm donor, who I've never even met. According to my grandparents, he bailed on my mom before I was born. He did the same thing to Alyx, the mother of my younger sister, Clementine. And who knows? He probably knocked up half the women in Chicago. I might have a whole herd of illegitimate half-siblings running around.

I think the most humorous part about all of this is that Geoffrey and Calista are my paternal grandparents. Somehow, the two kindest, most selfless people I know raised a deadbeat like my dad. They've been cleaning up after his messes his whole life, so it's only fitting that they're the ones taking care of me. Still, I feel bad. They're pushing seventy, and they're raising a seventeen-year-old. When are they ever going to do something for themselves?

I finish my breakfast and head outside to wait for my best friend, Kira Dixon, who's picking me up. Today is the first day of our senior year. In eight short months, we'll be done with high school forever.

Kira's fire engine red Aston Martin convertible comes to a graceful stop in front of my house. Despite the luxury vehicle, her mother is by no means rich. Alyx's husband, Shamus, is a car guy, and he helped her find a good deal. Kira had to bus tables all summer in order to afford half of the cost; her mom graciously offered to cover the rest.

Through her heart-shaped sunglasses, Kira's blue eyes look up at me. She pats the passenger seat beside her and flashes a mischievous smile. "You gettin' in or what?"

Eagerly, I nod my head and climb into the car. I'm not excited for school, but I am excited for my first ride in....

"Kira, what did you name it?" I ask.

"The car? Her name is Kourtney, with a 'K.'"

Did she really name her convertible after a Kardashian?

I roll my eyes as we cruise toward West Side High. I don't know if it's my nerves about school, my utter lack of sleep last night, or Kira's inability to stay within five miles of the speed limit, but my stomach is in knots. When we finally pull up in front of the brick-clad building, I let out a sigh of relief.

"You alright?" Kira inquires.

"Not really," I admit, unable to lie to her. She's been my best friend since we were ten. She knows me like the back of her hand. "I haven't been sleeping."

Concern washes over her face. "Do you know why?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Weird dreams, I think."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Hard to say. I can't remember the details. I just wake up feeling... anxious, I guess? Like something bad is about to happen, or maybe it already did. I don't know."

"Usually, our dreams are trying to tell us something," Kira says. "Before I got my license, I used to have this recurring nightmare where I was driving an out-of-control car. I always woke up right before I crashed, but it still scared the shit out of me, so I talked to my mom. She said the car was symbolic for my life, and how I must have been feeling like I had no control over what was happening around me."

I smile, recalling all the times Kira's mom, Dr. Althea Dixon, put her eight years of school to use and gave us unsolicited therapy sessions. "Your mom was probably right, you know."

"Probably, but don't tell her that. It goes right to her head," Kira replies with a chuckle. "Come on, let's go inside. We're gonna be late."

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

I shove my untouched mashed potatoes around my lunch tray. I'm too tired to eat. I almost fell asleep during AP English, which will be difficult enough to pass even if I'm not snoozing through lectures.

It's only the first day of school. I need to step up my game.

Kira and our... close acquaintance, Fiona Pickens, approach me. Fiona moved to the city three years ago and declared herself Queen Bee—a role that no one else, me and Kira especially, was vying for. With long, platinum blonde hair, tanned skin, and chocolate brown eyes, she's beautiful, but she's trouble. Kira and I are both hesitant to trust her completely.

"I am so over today," Fiona complains as she takes a Hydro Flask out of her purse. "Thank god I came prepared."

I watch as she starts guzzling from the bottle. Suddenly, I get a whiff of something that is not water and shake my head in disappointment.

Kira's face mirrors mine as she whisper-shouts, "Fi, what the fuck is your problem? You can't chug vodka in the cafeteria!"

"Shush, you priss. You like to party just as much as I do."

"Yeah, on the weekends, not at school."

"I'm not getting in trouble today," I declare, grabbing my uneaten lunch and rising to my feet. "See you guys later."

I deposit my tray and make a hasty exit out of the cafeteria. My stomach feels queasy once again. I take out my cell phone and text Grandpa to ask if he'll pick me up early, but before I can hit send, my phone falls to the tile floor as my body collides with something tall and hard.

"Oh, fuck, I am so sorry," I mutter, bending over to pick up the books and papers that have fallen to the the ground beside my phone. "I wasn't paying attention. I—"

"It's okay," a deep voice cuts me off. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no." As I stare into the cocoa-colored eyes of Remington Williams, I feel heat rise to my cheeks. I must look like a tomato. "Um, I'm fine. I should have been watching where I was going."

"Don't sweat it. You sure you're okay, though? You look like you're about to be sick."

Great. That's exactly what I want to hear.

"I think I'm just tired," I assure him. "My last two classes are free periods, so I was actually going to text my grandpa to see if he could pick me up."

"Need a lift home?" he offers. "I was gonna spend the rest of the day in the choir room, but I can always come back after."

"S-sure," I stutter.

"Cool. Follow me."

I walk with Remington to the parking lot. Despite the chilly September air, my palms are sweating. Why am I like this? Why does he still have this effect on me?

I've known Rem since we were in grade school. Ever since I witnessed him singing a heart-wrenching cover of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" in the second grade talent show, I've had the tiniest of crushes on him. I don't want to date him, but I always feel nervous whenever he's around. Every year, I think I'll finally be able to act like a normal person around him, and every year, I'm still the same awkward little shit that I've always been.

We stride toward a forest green Mustang. It's an older model, but it's in perfect condition. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide into the classic car, hoping there is no dirt on my shoes.

"I can't believe this is yours," I whisper in awe. Kourtney is nice, but this puts the sleek convertible to shame.

"It used to be my mom's," he tells me, bringing the engine to life. "She was into antique cars."

"Was?" I blurt out.

"Yeah, she... uh, well, she died." He grips the steering wheel tighter as he pulls out of the lot. "It was a long time ago. She got sick."

"God, I'm so sorry," I reply, wishing I hadn't pried into his personal life.

He moves his shoulders up and down in a laid-back shrug. "It's okay. She's been gone for five years. Can't really be sad anymore, you know?"

"I don't think there's an expiration on sadness," I retort. "My mom's been gone for almost eleven years. I still get down about it sometimes."

"Ah, fuck, I'm sorry." He runs a hand through his dark curls, his eyes glued to the road ahead of us. "Can I... can I ask how she passed?"

"She killed herself," I answer, rotating my body so that no part of me is facing him.

All of a sudden, I don't feel so nervous around Rem Williams anymore.

That concludes the first chapter! Who's your favorite character so far? Personally, I love Rem, but I think Kira is a close second❣️🤔

As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to tap that star before you leave⭐️⭐️