Everything changes overnight. I never really expected such a stupid expression like that to form the backbone of my new life, but here I am. Trapped in a house with two guys who use Axe deodorant and never clean up their shaved hair out of the sink.

So I’ve made adjustments. It’s been a week, and I’ve slowly found a way to get through the day somewhat gracefully.

I get up at 6:00 in the morning, when I first begin to prep my outfit for the day. I pick out accessories, shoes, and brainstorm hairstyles. At 6:30, I rush to the bathroom, where I can shower, check if my chin is growing any stubble yet, and get in the right mindset for the day.

At 7:00, I’m dressed. I prep my backpack and then head downstairs to get breakfast.

At 7:15, once I’m finished eating with my mom and Coach Ben—who slurps down his gasoline-grade coffee like it’s a potion that will cure his bad fashion sense—Conner rolls out of bed, throws on the clothes nearest to him, bangs around the bathroom, usually in his boxers, brushes his teeth with my toothpaste, never squeezing from the bottom, and then rumbles downstairs to devour toast and eggs at 7:25. It’s all so gross, and yet I still inexplicably want to lick up his toothpaste dribble. So it’s better that I steer clear, to prevent any more mix-ups and complications.

This allows for about ten minutes of uncomfortable small talk with the four of us around the table, chatting mildly about our schedules for the day, before Coach Ben looks at his watch, says, “well, would you look at the time,” then drives us to school, now that Conner’s Jeep privileges have been revoked after our winter storm rendezvous

Coach Ben’s truck is old, caked in primordial mud, and covered with dusty seat covers that are thick with dog hair.

“Do you guys have a dog?” I ask as I lay down my jacket on the seat, so my outfit doesn’t have to touch any surface

“Five years ago,” Ben says. “Died young. We miss you, Howler.”

“Miss you, Howler,” Conner repeats.

A small, evil part of me is beyond grateful that I don’t have to deal with a perpetually shedding dog named “Howler” in the house.

When we arrive at school, I let Coach Ben and Conner get out first. Thank goodness there’s a parking lot for teachers, away from any prying eyes.

“You go ahead,” I say, being extra cautious. “Have to re-tie my shoes.”

But it doesn’t hurt to still be careful. Once Ben and Conner have gotten some distance on me, I get off my knees and head to the entrance. I am not letting anybody see the three of us walk in together.

It’s a strange, lonely satisfaction I get these days when I walk into the doors of school. Almost always, I’ll see Byron or Matt and the other wrestlers, and Angelica, and Conner with them. They’re always laughing and goofing off, being obnoxious in the ways that I used to despise. But, now, the more I watch them, the more I wonder if I’m missing out.

Angelica’s invitation to her party has been weighing heavily on me. I would be an idiot to not accept. Then again, if I do accept, it’s a betrayal to Bridget, and Colleen, and even Felix. We’re all friends because we have to be. But is that ever a good reason? Sometimes I wonder if we were in a bigger city, or in a private school, or just anywhere else, if we would still be friends. I know I would find Colleen wherever I went, but the others? I don’t know. Maybe this party is the perfect time to shed the friends who are only my friends because everybody else doesn’t like us.

There’s a tap on my shoulder. It’s Felix, his hair a mess of curls.

“Hi,” I say. “What’s up?”

“You look discombobulated,” Felix says.

“Discombobulated.”

“Like you’re trapped in a glass box.” He immediately stiffens, sticks his arms out, and then mimes like he’s inside a box. His eyes grow huge with panic.

“Good luck getting out,” I say, and keep walking.

Felix sighs and follows. “Since when do you notice things, anyway?” I ask.

Is it my imagination, or does Felix blush slightly?

“I’ve always had a keen eye, where it matters,” he says.

When we get to our hallway, Colleen and Bridget have their heads together, eyes closed, their hands clasped together.

“Are we trying out prayer now?” I say when I see them.

Colleen pops her head up. “Maybe! God is speaking to me.”

Felix lets out an annoyed breath. “Oh god, just what we need: a Colleen who hears voices.”

“Anything to stop hearing yours,” Bridget says.

“Okay,” I say. “What’s happening?”

“Javert broke his leg!” Colleen says, practically cheering.

“What? Javert?”

“Gunther Hadley! He was playing him in Les Mis!” Colleen says. “It happened during that awful storm. He slipped on some ice, went down like a domino, and got sooo twisted up. And the show is in like a month, and there’s barely any time to recast, so we need someone who knows all the songs and has been to rehearsals—”

“Yeah…”

“So I’m playing Javert!” Colleen says. “I’m like, totally breaking the glass ceiling!”

I whoop along with her, smiling big. It’s impossible not to--no matter what, Collen is my girl.

“Colleen, fuck yes! That is going to be so good! Good thing I already have your measurements--I can get started on the costume alterations.”

“I can’t wait,” she says. “I’ll even get to do the confrontation scene with Felix for the school showcase at the end of the week. It’s like the universe knew exactly what it was doing.”

My burst of happiness begins to fizzle when she says that. At this point, I don’t even have faith that the universe knows I exist. I’m still waiting to figure out if all this misery I’m mired in is going to lead me to something good, or into an even deeper swamp.