Chapter 1
Chapter One
The Worst Monday Ever
There are two kinds of people in this world.
People who wake up five minutes before their alarm and spend the remaining time staring peacefully at the ceiling, wondering what life has in store for them.
And then there are people like me.
I woke up with my face pressed against my pillow, one leg hanging off the bed, and the unmistakable feeling that something had already gone terribly wrong.
My alarm was screaming.
Not ringing.
Screaming.
I slapped my hand across my bedside table, missed my phone completely, knocked over a glass of water, and sent it crashing onto the floor.
I froze.
The alarm continued.
"Okay," I whispered. "That's fine."
It wasn't fine.
I rolled out of bed.
My foot landed directly on something hard.
"OW!"
I hopped backward, grabbed the edge of my desk, and nearly took the entire thing down with me.
The object beneath my foot turned out to be one of my shoes.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
I stared at it.
It stared back.
"You're going to be the death of me."
The shoe, being a shoe, offered no apology.
I finally found my phone beneath my blanket.
7:38 a.m.
I stared at the time.
Then blinked.
Then stared again.
School started at eight.
My house was twelve minutes from school on a good day.
Traffic in Bellweather City was never a good day.
"Oh."
I shot out of bed.
"Oh, no."
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of my wardrobe wearing one sock, holding two completely different shoes, and reconsidering every decision I'd made since birth.
"Where is my other shoe?"
A voice came from the hallway.
"Probably where you left it."
I looked toward the door.
My older brother, Elliot, was leaning against the frame with a piece of toast in his mouth.
"I hate you."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Good morning to you too."
"Where's my shoe?"
"You mean the shoe you're holding?"
I looked down.
I was holding one shoe.
The other was on my foot.
I stared at Elliot.
Elliot stared at me.
Then he slowly removed the toast from his mouth.
"You know," he said, "sometimes I worry about you."
"Don't."
"I'm serious."
"I'm late."
"You've been late every day this week."
"It's Monday."
"Exactly."
I grabbed my bag from the floor.
Something fell out.
I didn't stop to check what it was.
"Mom said you have to eat breakfast."
"I'll eat at school."
"Mom also said—"
"I know, I know."
"And she said—"
"Elliot."
"And she specifically said—"
"I'M GOING."
I ran down the stairs.
"You're wearing two different shoes!" he shouted after me.
I stopped.
Slowly looked down.
Black sneaker.
White sneaker.
I closed my eyes.
There was a long, peaceful silence.
Then I heard Elliot laughing upstairs.
I considered turning around.
I didn't.
I had already accepted that today was going to be terrible.
I just didn't know yet that it was going to get much worse.
---
By the time I reached Bellweather High, the first bell had already rung.
I sprinted through the school gates with my bag bouncing against my back, my hair doing whatever it wanted, and absolutely no dignity left to protect.
Bellweather High was already alive.
Students crowded the courtyard, teachers hurried toward the administration building, and somewhere near the cafeteria, somebody was yelling about a missing calculator.
Normal Monday.
I spotted Maya immediately.
She was sitting on the low brick wall beside the courtyard fountain, scrolling through her phone.
She looked up.
Her eyes moved from my face to my shoes.
Then back to my face.
She said nothing.
I pointed at her.
"Don't."
Her lips twitched.
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"Good."
"I was just going to ask if you're starting a new fashion trend."
"Maya."
She burst out laughing.
I dropped my bag beside her.
"Today is already horrible."
"You're wearing two different shoes."
"I know."
"You could've changed."
"I was late."
"You could've taken the shoes off."
"I was running."
"You ran through the entire city in mismatched shoes?"
"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."
"It is stupid."
I sighed.
Maya grinned.
This was why she was my best friend.
She had absolutely no sympathy.
"Anyway," she said, locking her phone. "You missed something."
"What?"
She leaned closer.
"The school announced the festival competition."
I stared at her.
"What festival?"
She looked offended.
"The Bellweather Youth Festival."
"Oh."
"The giant city festival?"
"Oh."
"The one every school participates in?"
"Oh."
"The one with the winning school getting to organize the student showcase?"
I blinked.
"Okay, I know what you're talking about."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Because you said 'oh' four times."
"I was processing."
"You were buffering."
"I was not buffering."
"You were definitely buffering."
Before I could defend myself, a voice came from behind us.
"White."
I turned.
Mrs. Bell stood there.
Our English teacher.
She was holding a clipboard.
And she had that look.
The look teachers got when they had already decided you were guilty before you had even committed the crime.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Principal Harris wants you in the auditorium."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Mrs. Bell raised an eyebrow.
"That is what you're going to find out."
I looked at Maya.
She looked at me.
Then she smiled.
"No."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Maya."
She whispered, "You're in trouble."
"I'm not in trouble."
"You look like you're in trouble."
"I always look like this."
Mrs. Bell cleared her throat.
I grabbed my bag.
"Coming."
As I followed her toward the auditorium, I couldn't shake the feeling that Monday had just gotten worse.
I was right.
Because the moment I walked through those auditorium doors, I saw him.
Alex Hayes.
And somehow, without knowing it yet, I was looking at the person who was about to make my life considerably more complicated.
He was sitting alone in the second row, leaning back in his chair like he had absolutely no reason to be anywhere else.
Dark hair.
School uniform slightly untucked.
One ankle resting casually over the opposite knee.
He looked up when I entered.
Our eyes met.
For half a second, neither of us moved.
Then his gaze dropped.
To my shoes.
He looked back at me.
A tiny smile appeared on his face.
I narrowed my eyes.
Don't.
His smile grew.
I immediately disliked him.
And I hadn't even spoken to him yet.
Mrs. Bell gestured toward an empty seat beside him.
"Sit there, Camelia."
I looked at the seat.
Then at Alex.
Then at Mrs. Bell.
Surely she was joking.
She wasn't.
I walked over and sat down.
Alex glanced at my shoes again.
"Interesting choice."
I turned toward him.
"What?"
"The shoes."
I looked straight ahead.
"I'm aware."
"Making a statement?"
"No."
"Political?"
"No."
"Fashion?"
"No."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"So it's an accident."
I slowly turned my head toward him.
"You know, Hayes, you're remarkably brave for someone sitting within punching distance."
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
And somehow that made me even more annoyed.
"Good to know," he said.
The principal stepped onto the stage.
The auditorium gradually fell silent.
I crossed my arms.
Whatever this was about, I just wanted it to be over.
Principal Harris adjusted the microphone.
"Good morning, everyone."
A scattered chorus of greetings answered him.
"As many of you already know, Bellweather City will be hosting its annual Youth Festival in six weeks."
The room immediately became louder.
Six weeks.
That wasn't long.
"The school has been invited to participate in the student showcase competition."
Maya, somewhere behind me, made an excited noise.
I glanced back.
She gave me two thumbs up.
I had no idea why.
Principal Harris continued.
"This year, however, the school will not be selecting students individually."
I frowned.
Instead, he smiled.
"We will be creating teams."
Something about the way he said it made me nervous.
"Each team will consist of two students."
I looked at Alex.
He was already looking at me.
No.
Absolutely not.
Principal Harris began reading the names.
One pair after another.
Students whispered around the auditorium.
Then—
"Camelia White and Alex Hayes."
The room erupted.
I froze.
Alex raised an eyebrow.
Maya screamed.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Of course this was happening.
Monday wasn't finished with me.
Apparently, it had plans.
