Tuesday morning hit Isabel like a truck.
Her eyes cracked open, her head pounding so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her skull.
"Never… drinking… again," she groaned, even though she knew she absolutely would.
She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled downstairs, following the scent of coffee like it was a lifeline.
The kitchen was already alive.
Her mom stood by the counter arranging breakfast—pancakes stacked, eggs steaming, everything way too bright for Issa's current state.
Jordan, her younger brother, was at the table, aggressively drowning his cereal in milk. The kid acted like mornings were fun.
Issa squinted at him. "Why are you like this?"
Jordan didn't look up. "Why are you like that?"
She ignored him and shuffled toward the coffee maker.
"Morning, Mom," she mumbled.
Her mom turned, smiling softly. "Hey, baby. How was your sleep? You were out pretty late yesterday."
Issa winced. "Sorry… I got caught up."
"I know you're making new friends, and that's great," her mom said gently, "but you know how your father feels about curfew."
"Of course, Mom. Won't happen again." She grabbed the coffee pot like salvation. "Right now I just need coffee."
Before her mom could respond, heavy steps came down the stairs.
Her dad appeared, knotting his tie while scanning his phone. He snatched a pancake off the plate with the precision of a thief, then grabbed his travel coffee.
He kissed his wife quickly. "Hey, baby."
She fixed the crooked part of his tie. "Have a nice day at work."
"You too." He turned to Jordan. "Let's go, champ. You're riding with me today."
"Already ready!" Jordan jumped up, grabbed his backpack, and followed him.
Just as her dad reached the door, he turned back toward Isabel, giving her the classic Dad Look.
"Try not to be late today, Isabel…"
"Sure thing, Dad… right behind you," she muttered, lifting her coffee like a toast.
As she started back toward the stairs with her mug, her mom called after her gently:
"Isabel, call your brother for breakfast before you go."
Issa sighed, half dying inside, but nodded. "Yeah, Mom. I got him."
Zack's room was right across from hers. She didn't bother knocking—never did.
She shoved the door open. "Hey, loser. Breakfast."
The room was dark except for a thin line of sunlight sneaking through the blinds. Zack was still sprawled across his bed, knocked out cold.
Issa walked over and poked his shoulder.
"Zack. Zack. Wake up."
He groaned—the dramatic, dying-animal kind—and slowly blinked awake.
Issa snorted. "Damn, I thought you were dead. I was about to do a whole good-riddance dance."
He cracked a lazy smirk. "Trust me, you'd miss me."
"In your dreams," she shot back. "Mom says breakfast. And school. Now."
She headed for the door but paused, giving him a look.
"And you might wanna clean up nice. Wouldn't want my twin walking around looking like a zombie"
He tossed a pillow at her. She dodged it easily.
Issa left his room and slipped back into hers. Clothes, hair, lip gloss—fast and messy. She grabbed her bag, sprinted down the stairs, and bolted out the front door.
She made it to the bus stop just as the bus pulled in—barely.
Issabel reached the hallway just as the first-period bell shrieked through the building.
"Great. Physics. Again," she muttered under her breath.
She broke into a sprint, sneakers slapping the floor, silently thanking the universe that there were no hall monitors around to write her up for running like her life depended on it.
She skidded to a stop at the classroom door. Mr. Mark was already at the front, chalk in hand, about to start.
He looked up the moment she walked in.
"Miss Andreas," he said, voice dripping with tired sarcasm. "How lovely of you to grace us with your presence."
"Have your seat."
She flashed a tight smile. "Thank you, Mr. Mark."
Issa started toward her usual spot at the back.
"No, no," he cut in, pointing to the front row. "Right here. A special seat reserved just for you."
"Oh, how lovely," she said, fully sarcastic, earning a few snickers from the class.
She took the seat—unfortunately—right across from Clarissa.
Clarissa's whole face lit up the second their eyes met, smiling wide without even saying a word.
Isabel took one glance at her, then immediately looked away, her expression blank, unreadable, giving her nothing back.
Clarissa's smile faltered, shrinking as she turned her attention stiffly to the teacher.
Isabel pulled out her notebook, flipped it open, and pretended to look organized
Mr. Mark cleared his throat. "Alright, class. Last session we talked about momentum. Today, a bit of theory. Tell me this: if two objects of equal mass collide, one moving at high speed and the other stationary, what determines the final velocities after the collision, assuming no external forces?"
The class fell silent for a moment. It wasn't a math question, but it made people think.
Clarissa raised her hand immediately.
"Yes, Miss Whitmore?" Mr. Mark prompted, giving her the go-ahead.
She answered confidently, explaining about the moving object transferring its energy to the stationary one and how momentum is shared between them.
"Close, but not quite the answer I was looking for," he said, nodding.
"Anyone else?" he asked, scanning the room.
Issabel muttered something under her breath.
Mr. Mark's eyes narrowed. "What was that, Miss Andreas?"
She straightened, speaking clearly this time. "The final velocities depend not just on the masses, but on how momentum is conserved collectively between the two objects and the way kinetic energy is distributed during the collision."
"Correct, Miss Andreas," he said, satisfied. "Exactly the explanation I was hoping for."
Clarissa's smile faltered slightly. She had genuinely thought she was going to be right this time, as usual.
But as she looked at Isabel, she felt a flicker of something new, impressed. Watching someone else step up to answer questions, instead of it always being her, sparked a strange mix of admiration and curiosity.
It made her feel… unsettled, in a good way.
He moved on with the lecture, and before long, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period.
students began packing their things, spilling into the hallways in a rush.
Clarissa lingered at her desk, organizing her bag with her usual stylish efficiency, waiting for Isabel to gather her things.
Miss Andreas, a moment," Mr. Mark called
She gave a polite nod, took her bag and walked towards him
Benjamin was already heading toward the classroom door.
"Hey, Clary! You coming?" he called.
"Yeah, sure," she replied, grabbing her bag.
Together, they stepped out of the classroom, joining the flow of students in the bustling hallway.
"I wanted to talk about your physics grades from last session," he began, glancing at his clipboard. "You're showing potential, but your last test was below what I know you're capable of."
Isabel nodded, lips pressed together. "I know, sir. I didn't focus as much as I should have."
"Exactly," he said. "I want you to push yourself this term. Participate, stay on top of your assignments, and don't let small mistakes drag down your overall performance. I know you can do better."
"I understand, Mr. Mark." Isabel replied, her tone steady.
"Good. I'll be keeping an eye on your progress. I expect to see improvement next week."
"Yes, sir," she said, nodding firmly before heading out.
She was heading toward the yard when she noticed a crowd gathering, phones raised, the murmur of anxious voices rising above the usual chatter. At first, she didn't care, just another minor commotion. She aimed for a bench, planning to scroll through her phone and ignore it.
But snippets of conversation caught her attention.
"Yeah, that's Zack… I think he's in my chem class."
Her heart skipped a beat. She abandoned her seat and pushed toward the chaos.
Through the crowd, she saw him, her brother Zack, lying motionless on the ground.
"Zack!" she cried, rushing forward. Panic seized her as she dropped to her knees. "Somebody help! He's not breathing! Call 911! Call 911!"
The principal arrived, parting the crowd like the sea. "Zack! Can you hear me?" he shouted, his hands steady as he checked her brother. "Isabel, call your mom!"
A teacher assisted with lifting Zack carefully, carrying him toward the ambulance that had just arrived.
Isabel froze where she was, as if the world had stopped spinning. The sunlight glinted off the crowd, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think.
Then she felt a soft hand on her shoulder, gentle and warm.
"Hey," a voice said softly. "Hey, Issa… are you okay?"
She blinked, finally returning to the present. Standing before her was Clarissa, eyes wide, voice steady but concerned.
"Um… yeah," Isabel stammered. "I… I need to call my mom."
Her hands were shaking, but she pulled out her phone, dialing quickly, the chaos still around her, though Clarissa's presence made it a little more bearable.
Benjamin rushed toward the scene, completely unaware of what had actually happened.
"Yo, Clary, I heard someone ODed. Crazy stuff, dude!" he blurted out, louder than he should have.
Clarissa immediately twisted her head toward him, subtle but sharp, pointing at Isabel to warn him to shut up.
Benji froze, eyes widening as he realized. "Oh… shit. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Isabel didn't answer. She just glanced at him with a blank, shattered expression, then turned and walked away.
Clarissa hesitated, lightly hitting Benji on the shoulder. "Benjiiii," she murmured, then hurried after Isabel.
Benji stayed behind, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry…"
The yard was chaotic, the sirens still wailing in the distance, but for Benjamin, time seemed to slow as he watched Clarissa disappear into the crowd.