The faint hum of her alarm was barely necessary. Stacy had already been awake for minutes before it rang. Morning light seeped through the blinds, painting thin stripes across the bedroom floor. She had already been in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and staring at her reflection, rehearsing the day in her head. Her reflection looked alert, focused—but also tired, a remnant of staying up late finishing notes for her biology class.
She stepped back into the room, reached out, and turned off her alarm. Her phone, propped up on a stand on her cabinet, lit up with a video call. She tapped to answer and set it on loudspeaker as she began straightening her hair.
"Hey, Stace. You awake yet, or still meditating?"
Stacy smiled softly. "I'm awake. I was just getting ready. You know—normal stuff."
"Normal, normal stuff," her best friend teased. "You've been up before your alarm again, haven't you?"
"Maybe," Stacy said, laughing along with her.
She moved around the room, pulling on her sweater and packing away the books on her desk—the ones she'd been reading the previous night. The pages still smelled faintly of ink, and a pencil tucked between them marked where she had left off. As she listened, she could already smell eggs and toast coming from the kitchen downstairs, and she knew her mom was up and bustling about.
"I'm telling you, Stace, one of these days you're going to burn out if you keep starting your day this early," her friend said, laughing.
"I know," Stacy replied, smoothing the sheets on her bed. "This week's going to be hectic. I have classes, tutoring sessions, and I'm also helping teachers with prep work. My days are usually packed."
Her friend chuckled. "Yeah, yeah—the poster child for overachievers. Honestly, I don't know how you survive."
Stacy laughed softly. "Well, lots of coffee. And maybe too much anxiety." She rolled her eyes, the smile tugging at her lips genuine.
The call ended a few minutes later. Stacy finished up quickly, went downstairs, took a few bites of eggs and toast, and drank some milk. She kissed her mom on the cheek.
"Love you, Mom," she said before grabbing her bag and rushing out the door.
Her dad was already waiting in the car, and soon they were driving to school. The streets were quiet, the early morning sun glinting off the windows of houses and cars. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, a soft reminder of the world outside the routines of school and homework.
The car slowed as they pulled into the school parking lot, already crowded with students arriving in clusters. Stacy unbuckled her seatbelt, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
"Have a good day," her dad said, giving her a light wave.
"You too," she replied. She stepped out of the car and waved as he pulled away.
She watched the car disappear, then faced the school building, taking a deep breath. She paused, staring up at it for a moment. Another long day waiting behind those doors.
"Stace!"
The familiar voice cut through the noise. Stacy turned.
"Lizzy!" she called, laughing as they hugged and made their way toward the hallway.
The hallway was alive with energy: laughter, locker doors slamming, and the squeak of sneakers on polished floors. Students carried coffee cups, backpacks, and lunchboxes, some chatting loudly, others quietly focused on phones or homework. Stacy and Lizzy made their way to their lockers, which were beside each other.
"Did you finish Mr. Hagen's assignment?" Lizzy asked.
"Oh, wait, right," Lizzy added quickly, laughing. "I forgot—you're Stacy Hamilton. Of course you did your assignment."
Stacy rolled her eyes playfully. "Come on, let's get to class," she laughed, and Lizzy laughed along with her.
They walked through the crowded hallway, dodging groups of freshmen and seniors alike. Stacy could hear bits of conversations around her: someone complaining about math homework, another talking about last night's football game. She shook her head slightly—high school social drama was far from her concern.
They reached their first class of the day—biology. The classroom had the usual morning energy. Students chatted quietly as the teacher prepared for the lesson.
"Alright, everyone," Mr. Hagen said, clapping his hands lightly. "Quiet down, please."
Gradually, the chatter died away. Chairs scraped softly against the floor as students shifted, and the room fell into a focused hush.
"Open your textbooks to page fifty-three," he continued. "We'll start with the chapter on cell structure."
Notebooks flipped open, pens clicked against desks, and Stacy immediately absorbed herself in the material, scanning diagrams and reading carefully. Lizzy leaned in slightly, whispering a playful joke about one of the diagrams, and both of them chuckled softly.
The entire class was focused on Mr. Hagen as he described the components of cells, pointing at the diagrams on the board. Stacy leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notebook, eyes scanning the intricate drawings of mitochondria, nuclei, and ribosomes. She absorbed each detail as if the information were being etched directly into her mind.
"Stacy," Mr. Hagen said suddenly, his voice calm but carrying a note of encouragement, "can you explain what the function of the Golgi apparatus is?"
Stacy glanced up briefly, thinking quickly. "It modifies, sorts, and packages proteins for secretion," she said, her voice steady. "It's basically the cell's post office, making sure proteins get to where they're needed."
"Exactly," Mr. Hagen said, nodding, a faint smile breaking his usually serious demeanor. "Good. And can anyone add why that process is crucial for cell survival?"
Before anyone else could answer, Stacy started to speak again, pointing toward a diagram on her page to illustrate the process. "Well, without proper protein sorting, the cell couldn't—"
Suddenly, the door banged open, cutting her off mid-sentence. All heads snapped toward the entrance.
Two boys strode in, commanding attention the moment they stepped inside. Cole Connor, his quarterback jacket slung casually over his shoulder, led the way, followed by his best friend Sean Bennett. They moved with a heavy, confident swagger, as if the classroom were theirs to walk through.
Mr. Hagen's calm expression tightened slightly. He adjusted his glasses, his voice firm. "Gentlemen, please stand. Cole and Sean, would either of you care to explain why you decided to stroll in twenty minutes late?"
Cole smirked slightly, confidence unshaken. "Sorry we're late, Mr. H," he said casually.
Sean shrugged. "We had practice this morning."
Mr. Hagen's gaze swept over them, a thin line of irritation forming. "Okay. Don't try this next time. If you have practice in the morning, take permission first—or at least enter the classroom quietly."
Stacy sighed softly, rolling her eyes just slightly. "Yes, yeah… because some of us actually do appreciate learning," she muttered under her breath, her tone sharp but quiet. She turned her head back to her textbook, settling into her seat once more.
The class continued, notebooks flipping open, pens scratching quietly across pages. But Stacy couldn't ignore the faint, deliberate weight of Cole's gaze lingering on her for several minutes from the back of the room. It made her stomach twist just a little—annoyed, wary, and inexplicably alert all at once.
By the time the bell rang for the next period, Stacy had copied down every diagram and key point, her notebook neat and orderly. Lizzy gathered her things beside her. Just as they were about to leave, Cole and Sean sauntered out of the classroom, laughter fading behind them.
"Don't mind them," Lizzy said softly. "Just don't pay attention."
"Well," Stacy muttered under her breath, "some of us actually care about learning."
Lizzy waited patiently as Stacy finished gathering her things. Once everything was packed, they left the classroom together and headed to their lockers, weaving through the bustling hallway toward the next period.
Lunchtime finally came. The bell rang like a release, and students poured into the hallways, laughing, bumping shoulders, juggling backpacks and half-empty water bottles. Stacy and Lizzy threaded their way through the chaos, dodging groups of freshmen wrestling over lockers and juniors loudly comparing test scores.
The cafeteria smelled of pizza, fries, and reheated meatloaf. Tables were packed with clusters of friends, some shouting across the room, others quietly scrolling on phones. The hum of conversations, the clatter of trays, and the occasional squeak of a sneaker on the tile floor created a living, breathing backdrop.
Stacy and Lizzy slid into their usual spot by the windows. The sunlight spilled across their table, making the dust in the air glitter faintly, like tiny golden sparks. Around them, their friends were already talking, tossing scraps of conversation and laughter back and forth. Someone hit the table with a tray too hard, earning a chorus of groans and laughter.
As Stacy unpacked her lunch, she caught snippets of gossip floating around: who got detention, who was dating who, and who was trying way too hard to look cool. It all made her smirk. High school was messy, loud, and completely exhausting—but there was something almost comforting in that predictable chaos.
Lizzy nudged her. "Hey, come on. Eat before it all disappears."
Stacy laughed and opened her sandwich, taking a bite as the sunlight warmed her face. She let herself relax for the first time that day—until a familiar voice and presence drew her attention.
Across the cafeteria, Cole Connor and Sean Bennett had entered, carrying themselves with the same swagger from class. Cole's eyes swept across the room, stopping somewhere near Stacy's table, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips. Stacy's stomach twisted in a way she hadn't expected.
Lizzy noticed her staring. "Uh… Stace?" she whispered, nudging her. Stacy shook her head, forcing herself to focus back on her lunch, but her gaze couldn't help darting back toward Cole.
And just like that, the lunchroom noise—the chatter, the laughter, the scraping of chairs—all seemed to fade into the background. Something had shifted. Stacy knew, with a sinking feeling, that the rest of her day was about to get a lot more complicated.