October 8th, 7:51 AM, Westfield High School
I walk through the main entrance with my head down, same as every day. The hallways smell like floor wax and teenage sweat. Lockers slam. People laugh. The world keeps spinning like I'm not even here.
Nobody knows it's my birthday. Why would they? Mom was too caught up in her case meltdown this morning to remember. Granny probably has it written down somewhere, buried under distributor contracts and supply chain issues. It doesn't matter. Seventeen feels exactly like sixteen felt, like fifteen, like every other day of my forgettable life.
I'm halfway to my locker when I see them.
Marcus and his crew, but they're not in their usual spot. They're waiting by my locker. All three of them—Marcus, Tyler, and Jake—and they've got these looks on their faces that make my stomach drop.
This is going to be bad.
I think about turning around, finding another route, but Marcus has already seen me.
"Halden! Get over here, man. We need to talk."
