Filter

The first day of junior year starts with lip gloss and live stream pressure. My vanity lights buzz softly, casting a warm-glow filter over everything— even the chaos of open drawers and scrunchies that didn’t make the cut. My phone is propped perfectly on its stand, ring

Light in place. The chat is already filled with comments.

@skygirlxoxo: you’re literally glowing

@tiff.tok: What mascara is that????

@teamrileyoffical: THE QUEEN RILEY IS BACKKKKK😍😍😍

I lean in a little closer, green eyes catching in the light just right. “Get ready with me for the first day of junior year,” I say brushing highlighter across my cheekbone. “School might kill me, but at least I will look hot af in the yearbook.” Echo, my Australian shepherd is curled up on my round white rug behind me, one paw covering her nose like she’s done with the drama. She huffs quietly when I turn on the blow dryer on low and scrunch my loose blonde waves into place.

“Don’t judge me Echo. You know the drill”

I swipe on my mascara and do some quick sharp eyeliner. I fix my gold hoops, and toss on a cropped white tee and my favorite baggy jeans. Simple, Stylish, and trendy. I add a few layered necklaces—gold, always gold— and check the time. Perfect ten minutes early, and I already have 3k viewers.

People think being popular just means parties and good lighting. It doesn’t. It’s work. Timing. It’s knowing which part of you to show and which part to lock away for later.

By the time I finish getting ready and grab my iced chai, the comment section is still blowing up. I let it simmer for a bit before ending the live and sliping my phone into my crossbody and calling Echo. She trots behind me like a boss in fur, tail wagging, alert and graceful. I scratch behind her ears. “You know I’d take you if I could.” She lets out a huff like she’s heard this a thousand times before, and pads back inside. I toss on my navy blue and white Clearwater varsity volleyball windbreaker, oversized, cropped just enough to be cute, my last name Quinn stitched on the back. Then I walk down to the curb.

When I arrive I see a matte black jeep. Zara’s in the passenger seat, sleek bun, glossy lips, gold hoops, and matching team windbreaker unzipped to show a black tee. “You're late.” She says grinning behind her sunglasses. “You’re obsessed with me.” I say sliding into the back seat. Noah leans over from the driver's seat, his hair still damp from practice, a soccer bag in the back next to me. “Can we not start the year off with shade? I’m trying to manifest a chill vibe.”

Clearwater high rises in front of us. walls bright and white. Sun blasted palm trees, and students spill out across the front lawn like it’s a movie set. As soon as the three of us get out of the jeep, heads turn. Phones lift . Whispers start. Zara nudges me. “Still got it.” I just smile. “Was there ever a doubt?” We walk side by side, windbreakers fluttering, sunlight catching on our layered gold necklaces. Noah lags slightly behind, earbuds in, looking like the cool boy in a Netflix teen show. “Are you ready for the season?” I ask him. He shrugs. “Soccer's soccer. I'm mostly in it for cleats and cardio.” Zara rolls her eyes. “You’re in it for the attention.” He grins. “ That too.”

inside it’s Colder. A little too quiet. Everyone’s reuniting. Laughing and snapping first day pics. But I feel something. A flicker. Like something in the air shifted before I walked in. Like a camera flash without a sound. I shake it off. This is my school. My people. My year. And nothings gonna mess with that.

practice hits different on the first day back. Zara and I change in the locker room, both pulling on our Clearwater volleyball practice tees slightly oversized and a little to stiff from being folded away all summer. I pair mine with black spandex, crew socks, white knee pads, and my favorite court shoes. Zara wears her matching outfit and ties her hair up into a high ponytail.

“I feel like I forgot how to move.” She says cracking her knuckles.

“You're a setter. You just stand there and look intense.” I tease twisting my ponytail into a high bun

“I am the back bone of this team thank you very much. And all you do is somehow always manage to hit the ball out.”

“But who’s still the captain?” I grin leaning in close to her

Coach Harper is already in the gym when we walk in, clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other. She’s young, chill, and totally the coolest coach in the whole school.

“Welcome back my Clearwater girls.” She says “let’s see if you remember how to pass or if I need to cry.”

The team groans but everyone is really smiling. “Riley you're still captain so why don’t you lead warmup’s today.” She adds, tossing me a ball. “Yes coach.” I reply with a smile.

Zara and I bump a few balls back and forth as the remaining players trickle in. The gym smells like floor wax and summer sweat. I love it. It’s familiar, controlled, mine. I call out drills, we rotate through Serve receive, coach then sets up a quick scrimmage at the end. Zara moves like she never stopped sharp, fast hands, always watching. I feel the energy build in my legs as I go up for a hit. Pop. Smack. Ball down. Someone cheers and I catch coach's proud smile.

After practice I shower quickly and throw on a cropped hoodie, baggy jeans, and layered gold necklaces before sliding into Noah’s jeep with Zara. My hair’s still damp, twisted into a braid, and my legs and shoulders ache but it feels nice. Like I earned it in a way we head back to my place, where Echo’s already at the door, tail wagging a gazillion miles an hour. “She literally knows your jeep's sound,” I tell Noah as I open the door “you’re her favorite.” “Obviously, I’m everyone’s favorite.” He says, brushing her head affectionately

We crash into my room Zara curled up in the reading chair, me sitting at the head of my bed, and Noah lounging dramatically across the foot of my bed. Echo nestles between like she belongs everywhere she goes. I hit “go live.”

“Welcome to post practice chaos,” I say, angling the camera just right. “With your volleyball queens Riley and Zara and one soccer boy who keeps eating all our snacks.”

Noah holds up a bag of chips. “Not sorry.”

Zara throws a hair tie at him. “Give one reason why we shouldn’t kick you out right now.” Echo lets out a single bark, perfectly timed. The comments roll in fast compliments, heart eyes, someone already asking what lipgloss I'm wearing. Everything feels normal. Steady, warm. But out the window, the sky is soft pink, streaked with gold. And just for a moment the sun flickers behind a cloud in a way that makes my stomach twist. I blink, shake it off, smile for the screen. Because nothing insanely weird ever happens in real life. Right?