Chapter 2 — First Encounters

Kennedy

The first thing I noticed about Seabreeze High wasn’t its smell, though it hit me the moment I stepped onto campus—a faint, fishy tang woven through the salty breeze, sharp and unfamiliar. No, it was how everyone stared.

Their gazes trailed me like shadows, whispers bubbling up as I passed. My flip-flops slapped against the polished hallways, too loud for comfort. The shark tooth necklace brushed against my collarbone with each step, an unwelcome reminder of the weight I carried.

Inside the main office, I clutched my schedule like a life raft. The receptionist, all manicured nails and an over-bright smile, handed me a map. “Welcome to Seabreeze High, Kennedy. You’re going to love it here,” she chirped, her voice tinged with that particular Californian cheeriness I already found exhausting.

I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to respond. Love wasn’t the word I’d use. The posters plastered across the office walls—surf competitions, pep rallies, football games—only underscored how foreign this place felt. Back home, my life had been the ocean, waves beneath my feet, salt in my hair. Here, everything felt landlocked, as if the tide refused to meet the shore.

The hallway was worse. Lockers banged shut, and conversations dipped into murmurs as I walked past, only to swell again behind me.

“She’s the new girl from Australia, right?”

“Her dad’s in a wheelchair now. Pretty rough.”

“Think she surfs? She looks like a surfer.”

The words crawled under my skin, each one sharper than the last. I forced my shoulders back, my gaze locked forward. People could think what they wanted. Explaining myself wasn’t on my to-do list. Making friends? Even lower.

When I found my locker, it was sandwiched between a cluster of cheerleaders and a guy drumming on his textbooks with pencils, the erratic rhythm oddly soothing. I focused on spinning the combination lock. The shark tooth pressed harder against my collarbone as I leaned forward.

“Hey, you’re new, right?”

The voice was bright and curious. I turned to see a petite girl with rich brown skin and a high puff of curls. Her warm brown eyes sparkled with a grin to match. Beside her stood a taller girl, her auburn hair tied back in a sleek ponytail, arms crossed and expression coolly appraising.

“I’m Michelle,” the first girl said. “This is Julie. You probably have no idea where anything is, so we thought we’d help.”

Julie quirked an eyebrow. “Correction: Michelle thought we’d help. I got dragged along.”

I hesitated, gripping my locker door like a makeshift shield. They seemed friendly enough, but I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or annoyed. “I’ve got a map,” I said, lifting it as proof.

Michelle waved it off. “Maps are useless. This place is impossible unless you’ve been here for years. Trust me, we’re professionals. For a small fee, of course.”

“Small fee,” Julie muttered. “She’s been unbearable since she won an art show last semester.”

“Unbearable and talented,” Michelle corrected with a wink. Her gaze dropped to my necklace. “Cool necklace. Does it mean something?”

My fingers twitched toward the shark tooth, but I stopped myself. “Just a souvenir,” I said, keeping my voice flat. The lie burned in my throat, bitter and heavy.

Michelle tilted her head but didn’t push. “Well, if you get lost, look for us. Lunchtime at the Saltwater Café is kind of our thing. You should join us.”

“Sure,” I said before I could think better of it. The word felt foreign on my tongue, and I already regretted it. Michelle didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, flashing me a bright thumbs-up before tugging Julie down the hall.

The morning unraveled in a slow blur. Teachers introduced me to classes. My name felt strange in their mouths, and each time they said it, more heads turned. The stares followed me everywhere, as oppressive as the summer heat pressing through the school’s open windows.

By the time lunch rolled around, my head throbbed. I had zero intention of showing up at the Saltwater Café. My plan was simple: find some quiet corner outside and wait for the afternoon to come and go. But as I passed the café, the smell of coffee and cinnamon curling through the open door, Michelle’s voice rang out.

“Kennedy! Over here!”

My feet froze. I could leave. Pretend I hadn’t heard her. But she had already darted to the door, her hand lightly tugging my arm. “Come on,” she said, her grin big and infectious. “You can’t eat alone on your first day. It’s, like, illegal.”

Reluctantly, I slid into the booth across from Julie, who was dissecting her sandwich with surgical precision. Michelle slid in beside me, launching into a story about some art project gone hilariously wrong. Her hands moved as she spoke, punctuating her words with flourishes, and Julie’s dry humor balanced her energy like a practiced routine.

I hated to admit it, but something about their dynamic pulled me in. I almost forgot to feel awkward. Almost. The shark tooth resting against my chest didn’t let me forget completely. Michelle’s laughter reminded me too much of Eve’s—effortless and alive. The thought hit me hard, twisting my stomach into knots. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood grain.

“You okay?” Michelle’s voice cut through the haze, her expression softening.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just… tired.”

Her grin faded by degrees, replaced by something gentler. “It’s a lot, starting over,” she said. “But you’ll be fine. You’ve got us now.”

Julie snorted into her sandwich. “Lucky you,” she muttered, but there wasn’t any malice in her voice. I managed a small smile, even if it felt brittle.

Just as I thought I might relax, Michelle’s voice cut across the café. “Hey, Hurley! Stop being a creep!”

I turned to see who she was addressing. A tall guy lounged against the counter, a football in one hand and a smoothie in the other. His dark brown hair was artfully messy, and his piercing blue eyes held a spark of mischief. He looked like the type of guy who had never struggled a day in his life.

“Relax, Alvarez,” he said, his voice easy and amused. “Just grabbing lunch.” His gaze drifted to me then, and his smirk widened. “So, you’re the Aussie.”

I bristled. His tone—carefree, almost lazy—rubbed me the wrong way. “And you’re the guy with the football. Congratulations.”

Michelle let out a low whistle. “Ouch.”

Raiden didn’t waver. If anything, his smirk deepened. “Feisty. I like it.”

“I don’t care what you like,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. Heat crept up my neck, but I refused to back down.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin still firmly in place. “Fair enough. See you around, Aussie.” With that, he strolled out, leaving a trail of amused murmurs in his wake.

“Congratulations,” Michelle said, grinning. “Survived your first Raiden Hurley encounter. You’re officially one of us.”

“Who is he?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Golden boy,” Julie said flatly. “Star athlete. King of charm. General pain in the ass.”

“Sounds delightful,” I muttered.

“Oh, he is,” Michelle said, her grin widening. “But don’t let him get to you. He’s harmless. Mostly.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Raiden Hurley didn’t strike me as harmless. He struck me as trouble. And trouble was the last thing I needed.