The night before senior year always carried a strange mix of excitement and fear. For Irene Walker, it was no different.
Sitting cross-legged on a pink carpet inside Anna's bedroom, Irene tossed a pillow at Elsa, who was giggling too hard over some silly joke. The three had been inseparable since childhood—sisters in everything but blood. And now, as the final year of high school loomed ahead, they couldn't help but wonder what the year had in store.
Irene was the quiet one of the group, but no one could deny her beauty. Her long dark hair framed a face that seemed carved with delicate care, and her smile—bright, warm, and effortless—was the kind that made people stop and stare. She wasn't the most popular girl at Westbrook Academy, but she had something rarer: brains, kindness, and a natural glow that made her unforgettable.
Her friends, of course, were just as striking in their own way. Elsa Harris, tall and confident, was captain of the cheerleading squad, born with the kind of natural grace that made every head in the hallway turn. Anna Anderson, her loyal shadow, was also part of the cheer team—"The Sparkle Squad," as their overly enthusiastic coach had named it.
As laughter filled the room, Irene felt comforted. With these two by her side, maybe senior year wouldn't be as terrifying as it sounded.
But behind her smile lingered a quiet worry. She hadn't told anyone outside of Elsa and Anna about her mother's drinking problem. It was a secret she guarded closely, even though sometimes it felt heavy enough to crush her. At least tonight, with bowls of oily fries and sodas scattered around them, she could forget.
"Tomorrow, everything changes," Anna said suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," Elsa added with a grin. "The last first day of high school. We should make it legendary."
Irene leaned back on her pillow, staring at the ceiling. Legendary… She hoped so. Because deep down, something told her that this year would be nothing like the ones before.
Morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, warming Irene's face. She stretched lazily on the guest bed in Anna's room, feeling a little knot of nervousness twist inside her stomach. Today was supposed to be exciting—her last first day of high school—but for some reason, her emotions weren't fully settled.
She got up quietly, padding across the room where Anna was already brushing her hair and Elsa scrolled through her phone.
"You look like you didn't sleep at all," Elsa teased, raising an eyebrow.
Irene smiled faintly. "I don't know… I just feel… nervous. Like, what if this year doesn't go well? What if everything changes too fast?"
Anna walked over, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's normal. We're all nervous. But we'll get through it—together, like we always do."
Elsa grinned and tossed a pillow at Irene. "Exactly. Senior year is ours. Nothing's going to break us apart."
Their words soothed her, and she nodded. With that, Irene began her morning routine. She was the kind of girl who liked everything clean and organized—she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and neatly folded the sleepover blanket before dressing. Unlike Elsa and Anna, she preferred simplicity: a pair of well-fitted jeans and a plain white shirt. Her style was effortless, and her natural beauty carried the rest.
Anna, ever the girly one, slipped into a pastel gown that matched her delicate personality. Elsa, bold and fearless, picked a short denim skirt paired with a bright crop top.
By the time they made their way to the kitchen, the smell of warm pancakes filled the air. Mrs. Anderson had already set the table with syrup and fruit, her cheerful presence lighting up the room.
"Eat well, girls," she said warmly. "Big day ahead."
The three of them laughed and dug in, pancakes disappearing as fast as they were served. For a moment, Irene forgot her worries. Surrounded by love, laughter, and the sweet taste of maple syrup, she felt ready—almost ready—to face Westbrook Academy one last time.
The ride to school felt quicker than usual. Maybe it was the chatter in the car, maybe it was the weight of senior year pressing down on all of them. By the time they walked through the tall gates of Westbrook Academy, the campus buzzed with energy—students hugging, shouting, comparing schedules, and already snapping selfies.
Irene adjusted her bag strap and smiled faintly. She wasn't as outgoing as her best friends, but she always found comfort in familiar routines. Her goal was clear: finish strong, graduate, and move closer to her dream of becoming a doctor.
Elsa shared that dream too, though her heart leaned toward nursing. She had this big vision of running her own maternity home one day, and Irene admired her passion. Anna, on the other hand, belonged in the business department. She talked nonstopabout starting her own fashion company someday. Different dreams, one friendship.
Their first class of the year was English, one of the few subjects that brought all three girls together despite their different academic paths. They slid into their usual seats at the middle row, giggling quietly as students filled in around them.
Anna, always the cheerful one, straightened in her chair the second the teacher walked in. "This is it," she whispered excitedly.
But Mr. Thompson wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a boy Irene had never seen before. Tall, sharp-jawed, and effortlessly striking. His presence seemed to draw every eye in the room. There was something in his expression—cold, unreadable, almost too perfect—that made him both magnetic andand intimidating. His eyes, a deep shade that almost glimmered under the classroom lights, held the kind of intensity that could make any girl lose her breath.
And clearly, many already had. Anna gasped softly, elbowing Elsa, who was nearly drooling as she whispered, "He's so hot…"
Irene rolled her eyes, disgust curling in her stomach at their reactions. Sure, he was handsome—painfully so—but something about him felt… wrong. It wasn't just his aloofness or the way he scanned the room without care. It was deeper, a quiet tension she couldn't explain, as though a shadow followed him into the classroom.
While the others melted at the sight of him, Irene forced her gaze back to her notebook. Whoever he was, he didn't matter to her. At least, that's what she told herself.