Cassidy immediately raises her hand. “It makes us uncomfortable.”

“Exactly,” our teacher says. “It gives a little shock to our systems. Think about social norms. I also want you to break them—observe what happens when you violate them. Take a video of you doing something out of the norm and see what happens.” Mr. Miller stands in front of Vic’s desk. “For some of you, I think going against the norm is actually a daily ritual.” He taps his fingers on Vic’s desk and flashes him a pointed look.

Mr. Miller lectures us for the next thirty minutes until the bell rings and we all rush out.

“That was brutal,” Vic says.

“Why? Because he picked on you?” I ask.

“You think I give a shit whether Miller picks on me or not?” He shakes his head. “No. That class is supposed to be an easy A, but Miller doesn’t make it sound like his class is a blowoff.”

Vic isn’t known for getting the best grades. He doesn’t really try hard, but then again it’s probably because he doesn’t think he’s smart enough to get As. He already told me that taking easy classes this year was his goal. I took sociology because I’m seriously interested in it and am thinking of majoring in sociology or psychology in college. Not because I thought it would be easy.

“I’ll help you study,” I tell Vic. I glance at Cassidy, who’s walking in front of us swaying her hips, probably to get his attention. I urge him to come closer as I whisper in his ear, “Or I’m sure Cassidy would love to tutor you.”

He doesn’t even look in her direction. “Don’t go there.”

When she turns the corner, I say, “I don’t know why you don’t give her another chance, Vic. She’s obviously still in love with you… when she’s not referring to you as a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No you’re not,” I tell him. Ever since freshman year Vic has been in my group of friends. I know him well, even though he has a wall up a mile wide. There are times when his true self shines through that tough-guy façade. “Sometimes you’re…”

“An asshole.”

“No. I was going to say moody or intense. Passionate.” When he starts to walk down the hall, I grab his arm and pull him back. “You’re real. And protective of the people you care about. I love that about you.”

He looks away, seemingly uncomfortable with the compliment.

He’s not as bad as his father has made him believe he is. In fact, I rely on Vic for a lot of things. Trey does too. Vic’s loyal to the core, and that means a lot to me.

He’s also very charismatic. The funny thing is that he’s clueless about the fact that he’s popular and girls talk about him all the time. He’s even got his own cheering section in the stands during football games.

Vic has the attention of most of the student body whether he wants it or not. I look down the hall and see one freshman girl point at him and giggle excitedly, then take a picture of him while his back is turned.

“What’re you looking at?” Trey asks, coming up behind me and kissing my neck.

I turn around and hug him, erasing the image of Vic’s body from my mind.

“Nothing. Hey, how was your first period?” I ask.

“To be honest, I’m already stressed out,” he says, pulling back. “It’s gonna be arduous being in all AP classes with no study hall, and on top of that I have college apps and essays. Not to mention football. I’m so overwhelmed and it’s the first day of school.”

“You don’t need to take all those super hard classes,” I tell him as we walk down the hall. It doesn’t escape my attention that Trey isn’t holding my hand. In the past, he would hold my hand whenever we were walking through the halls. He’s too agitated now, like his stress level is so high that he can’t focus on our relationship. I get it though. You don’t get to be valedictorian by being a good boyfriend. You get it by earning As in AP classes. “Lighten your load if you’re that stressed out.”

“I can’t,” he says. “So much rides on this year for me. You’re aware of that.”

“I know.”

He shifts his books and a clear baggie with a bunch of pills inside falls from between the pages of one of the books. He quickly picks it up.

“What are those?” I ask him.

“Anxiety meds my doc prescribed,” Trey says. “They calm me.”

That’s weird. He never told me he was on medication. “Why are they in a baggie?”