to her, has regained his confidence and is whipping Tony with his ruler. Most people think Ryan’s good-looking, which makes him even less bearable—and, worse still, he is, so there are grounds to be cocky. I see glimmers in his eyes of the true him, someone real and scared, and then I like him for a second, until he speaks. Tony catches my eye again. At first glance he veers toward scruffy but I think he’s effortfully disheveled. I’ve seen him look quite neat until he sees his reflection and tugs his shirt out of his pants. He’d be better off if he didn’t traipse around after Ryan, so that’s probably his greatest flaw, but then high school compromises people’s abilities to think for themselves.
Cara brings me back with her cheerful greeting when Mia calls her name. Her greatest talent is to seem impervious to peer pressure, which means she is—she’s on her own raft of cool. Reaching the end of the list, Mia sets it down beside her.
MIA
First things first! To be real, you have to know yourself and your reactions. We’re looking for truth, and to find truth we need trust. That’s where we’ll start. Trust.
She looks around the room and smiles conspiratorially.
We need space. Follow me!
And as she hops off the desk, I glimpse someone who’s not just an adult suspended in circumstance but a person, with a childhood, a life, her own reality. She isn’t hiding. We can see her figure, the way she moves.
PLAYING FIELDS. SOON AFTER.
The sun is warm, bathing the playing fields in golden light. There is grass beneath our feet, and the smell of wet leaves. We felt rebellious stealing through the deserted halls during class. Mia claps her hands together, more with excitement than authority. Her shirt still has the perfect unrumpled tuck even when she pushes up her sleeves, the white fabric luminescent in the light.
MIA
Okay. Pair up and spread out in two lines facing each other.
We pair up with a glance and you head to one side of the field as I go to the other. Squinting in the glow of sun, I can see the fuzzy haze of my own eyelashes. Mia gestures to my row, calling across the grass.
MIA
This side, close your eyes, and run toward your partner.
I hear some laughs ring out but she’s serious, so I close my eyes tentatively, my eyelids flickering. It’s hard to close your eyes when you’re so awake. I’m in a world of her voice.
MIA
Give yourself to the moment. Feel the ground under your feet. You can’t think about falling. Just think about running.
With just the pinkish black of my eyelids to look at, everything moves slower. I take a step. My mind puts bars around me that root me to the spot. There’s nothing near, I tell myself, not even a shadow, and I can hear your voice calling. So with my eyes squeezed tight shut, I run. Really run! My other senses feel stronger. I hear my name alone on the sound waves. Sometimes the ground falls away, and I stumble but stay on my feet and keep running. I must look like a crazed three-year-old, my steps short and knees so high. Your voice gets closer and closer until I feel the jarring of your hands on my shoulders and open my eyes to see you and, beside you, Mia.
MIA
Good, Phyre. Excellent!
This is where it starts, the very beginning.
PEELE’S. LATE AFTERNOON.
We’re in town, in Peele’s, The coffee shop on the corner, as it says in reverse lettering on the glass beside us. School ended a few hours ago but I didn’t feel like going home. We’re at our favorite window table, peering out into the street. It’s warm and cozy in here; outside, the street looks steeped in blue. I can smell autumn in the air and I’m wearing a scarf for the first time this fall. I tug my pink cuffs over my hands and wrap my palms around my mug, sliding an elbow across the copper tabletop so I can get a better view, beneath corner, of Elle and Jen crossing the street. You take a sip of hot chocolate and run your fingers through your sun-lightened hair, a gesture I’d know a mile away.
YOU
Summer has changed people, don’t you think? This year feels different—
A figure sweeps by the window, a figure I recognize.
ME
There’s Mia!
I’m sure that’s her, in the plum-colored jacket with the collar turned up. Something in me wants her to turn and