Page 23 of What I Like About You

like socially? school starts today! so I’m not sure to whom ollie is referring to with regards to “friends”

Mom

I miss your regular uses of whom

Dad

Ollie

I don’t

FOUR

If school and I had a relationship status, it’d be it’s complicated.

Ollie and I sit in plush chairs in the guidance office, bent over the official MHS map. I oscillate between fidgeting with the hem of my black shirtdress and wiping off my cherry lipstick. I don’t know why I listened to Elle this morning when she helped pick my first-day-of-school outfit and insisted red lipstick was a good idea. Amy and Samira agreed, and so did Kels. In my room, alone, the line between Halle and Kels feels more blurred. Lipstick makes me feel like the badass Kels is online. Out in the world? It’s a calculated risk, and this is definitely not the time for it.

I should know better, honestly. It’s my fifth first day in a new school system, and as a veteran newbie, I have developed a comprehensive list of rules for the first day at a new school. It’s published on the blog, for those interested in reading the whole list; 1.2K retweets. Rule number one: Don’t draw attention to yourself.

I rummage through the front pocket of my backpack for amuted neutral lip gloss, swipe it over my lips, and instantly feel more like me, just Halle.

Ollie is fixated on the map. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “This map is theworst, Hal. Useless.”

It’s a relief, being in the same school. We may have no clue where we’re going, but at least we have no clue where we’re going together.

“Homeroom starts in ten. Do you have any questions?”

Ms. Connors, our guidance counselor, reappears and hands us our schedules. Ollie opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “We’re good.”

She nods and escorts us out of her office. “Sophomores are in the science wing, down to the left. Seniors are in the English wing upstairs.”

“Thanks,” Ollie says.

Ms. Connors flashes a plastic smile that screamsgood luckbefore closing the guidance office door behind us.

We’re officially on our own.

I reassess the map. Ollie is right. Itisthe worst. It’s nothing short of illegible—the colors don’t contrast, the symbols aren’t obvious, and the typeface is tiny. The printing is so bad that the inky route is just meaningless lines connecting meaningless places.

“I’m making a new map tonight,” Ollie says. “It will be in Ms. Connors’s box in the morning.”

I snort. “Not again.”

“I want to contribute tothe community, Halle. My motives are pure.”

We’re headed in opposite directions. So we bump fists, promise to reunite at lunch, and go our separate ways. Ollie will probably have his own crew by then.

For a small school, it still feels like people are everywhere. I go upstairs and down two hallways, my pulse speeding with each wrong turn. I pause against a row of lockers, giving the trash map one more pass, as though I can will some useful information to appear out of nothing. Alas, this is not the Marauders Map.

“Hey, Upstate. Need help?”

It takes me a second to look up.

Of course. My stomach can’t decide if it wants to twist or flutter.

“This map is horrible,” I say, finally.

“The worst,” Nash agrees. “We’re probably in the same homeroom, though; let me see …” He plucks my schedule out of my hand. Heat radiates from my ears. I feel it when I tuck back a lock of hair. “Yup. H113.”

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