Chapter 2 — First Impressions
Aurora
The first day of school in a new town is like walking into a movie theater halfway through the film. Everyone else already knows the plot, the characters, the inside jokes—and there you are, fumbling for a seat and trying not to block the screen.
Greenhill High loomed ahead as Dad pulled up in his pickup truck, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the sprawling brick campus. Students swarmed the entrance in clusters, laughing, shouting names, and tossing backpacks over their shoulders. The air buzzed with the kind of energy that only comes from kids who’ve spent too much time cooped up in classrooms and are desperate for a taste of freedom before the first bell.
Football posters plastered every available surface, some featuring Will Carter’s grinning face and others proudly announcing the upcoming Homecoming game against the Oakwood Bears. Even the school’s front lawn had a green-and-gold banner hung between two trees that read, “GO HAWKS!” It wasn’t just a school; it was a shrine to Greenhill’s one true religion.
“Ready, kiddo?” Dad asked, glancing at me as he shifted the truck into park.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered, clutching my bag like a life raft.
He gave me his trademark encouraging nod, the kind that usually worked wonders for his players. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”
Be myself. Right. If only I knew what that looked like in Greenhill.
As soon as I stepped out of the truck, the whispers started.
“Isn’t that Coach Barnes’ daughter?”
“Did you hear her dad’s taking over the team?”
“She doesn’t look anything like her brothers…”
I adjusted the strap of my bag and kept my head high, trying to ignore the intrusive stares. My fingers instinctively brushed the charm bracelet on my wrist, the tiny metallic chime grounding me for a moment. Mom had told me once that it was okay to feel out of place—it meant I was growing. Right now, I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I held onto the memory anyway.
Just as I reached the school doors, a girl with a shock of curly black hair and a bright yellow skirt practically bounced into my path.
“Hey, you’re new, right?” Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm, and her brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Uh, yeah,” I managed, caught off guard.
“I’m Remi. Remi Flores.” She thrust out her hand, and I shook it cautiously. Her grip was firm, like she was determined to make a lasting impression. “You must be Aurora! I heard your dad’s the new coach. Welcome to Greenhill High, where everyone knows everyone else’s business—and isn’t shy about sharing it.”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Thanks—I think.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. This place can be a bit much, but stick with me and you’ll survive.”
Before I could respond, she looped her arm through mine and started steering me through the hallway like we were old friends.
“So,” Remi continued, her words coming rapid-fire, “what’s your schedule? Wait, let me guess—something boring like Algebra II first period, right? That’s how they get you.”
“Actually, yeah. How’d you know?”
“Because the universe loves to make teenagers suffer,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “But hey, at least you’ve got me now. I’m like your personal tour guide slash therapist slash hype woman. You’re welcome.”
We passed a group of girls huddled by their lockers, whispering and casting quick glances in my direction. One of them—a tall, willowy blonde with ice-blue eyes—gave me a once-over that felt more like an appraisal than a casual look. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long before she turned back to her friends, her laughter sharp and deliberate.
“That,” Remi muttered under her breath, following my gaze, “is Sophie Wilson. Queen Bee of Greenhill High. Approach with caution. She’s like a perfectly frosted cupcake—pretty on the outside, but probably full of something bitter inside.”
“Good to know,” I said, tearing my eyes away from Sophie, though her dismissive glance stayed with me.
Remi grinned and nudged me. “Stick with me, and she won’t mess with you too much. Probably.”
Her laughter eased some of the tension knotted in my chest as we reached my locker. I fumbled with the combination, trying to ignore the curious stares still thrown my way.
“So, what’s the deal with your family? I heard you’ve got three brothers. What’s that like? Total chaos all the time?”
“Pretty much,” I said, finally getting the locker open. “It’s like living in a constant wrestling match. They’re great, though—annoying, but great.”
“I feel that,” Remi said, nodding. “I’ve got four older siblings. It’s like being the rookie on a really aggressive sports team.”
At that, I laughed—a real, honest laugh that loosened the tightness in my shoulders.
“Catch you at lunch, newbie,” Remi said with a wink as the bell rang, disappearing into the crowd.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of unfamiliar faces, whispered gossip, and the overwhelming din of slamming lockers and squeaky sneakers on tile floors. Algebra was uneventful, though I caught snippets of conversation about the football team and their new coach. In English, I noticed a few students wearing bright green-and-gold Hawks T-shirts, further cementing the school’s obsession with football.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was equal parts exhausted and relieved.
Remi had saved me a seat at a table near the middle of the cafeteria, waving me over with a grin. She was halfway through a plate of fries, gesturing animatedly to a boy with shaggy brown hair.
“And then,” she was saying as I sat down, “he missed the catch and fell flat on his—oh, hey, Aurora!”
“Hey,” I said, sliding into the seat beside her.
“This is Tyler,” she said, nodding toward the boy. “He’s on the debate team and has the best fake British accent you’ll ever hear.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Tyler said in a flawless accent, tipping an imaginary hat.
As we ate, I started to relax. Remi’s energy was infectious, and Tyler’s dry humor added a nice balance. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel like the new kid under a spotlight.
That is, until he walked in.
Will Carter.
I recognized him instantly from the posters in the hallway. Sandy blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and a crooked grin that could probably sell out stadiums. The cafeteria seemed to shift as he strolled in, his letterman jacket slung casually over one shoulder. Heads turned, conversations quieted, and it was like the golden glow of the afternoon sun had followed him inside.
“Speak of the devil,” Remi muttered, following my line of sight.
“What?” I asked, quickly looking away.
“That’s Will Carter,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Star quarterback, town golden boy, blah blah blah. Basically, he’s the human embodiment of Greenhill’s obsession with football.”
“And?”
“And…” Remi hesitated, then smirked. “He’s also single. Just saying.”
I rolled my eyes. “Noted.”
As if on cue, Will’s gaze swept across the cafeteria and landed on our table. For a split second, our eyes met. His smile widened, and for some reason, my heartbeat stuttered.
“Careful, Aurora,” Remi teased. “That smile has been known to cause temporary lapses in judgment.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, focusing on my tray.
The rest of the day passed quietly—until the final bell rang, and I found myself in the hallway, wrestling with a jammed locker.
“Need a hand?”
The voice was warm and smooth, with just the faintest hint of amusement. I turned to find Will leaning against the lockers, arms crossed and that stupidly charming grin firmly in place.
“No, thanks,” I said, yanking at the locker door.
He stepped closer, the faint scent of cedar and something fresh filling the air. “You’re new, right? Coach Barnes’ daughter?”
“That’s me,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed. “Let me guess—you’re one of his players.”
“Guilty,” he said, holding up his hands. “Will Carter.”
“I figured.”
“You figured?”
I shrugged. “Your face is everywhere. Kind of hard to miss.”
He laughed, and for a moment, I almost forgot I was annoyed at the locker.
“Here,” he said, stepping forward. “Let me try.”
Before I could protest, he gave the locker a swift tug. It popped open immediately.
“Show-off,” I muttered, but there was no real bite in my tone.
“Happy to help,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Aurora.”
As he walked away, I felt a small, reluctant smile tug at my lips.
Maybe Greenhill wouldn’t be so bad after all.
