Sienna

Kendra walked me to my locker like she was escorting a witness into a crime scene.

“Do you realize what just happened?” she whispered, eyes wild. “Do you UNDERSTAND? Because I don’t think you do.”

I shoved my books inside my locker. “Kendra—”

“Sienna, that boy said he MISSED YOU FOR YEARS.” She clutched my arm. “Years. Plural. As in… he spent all that time thinking about tiny middle-school you with braces and too-big sweatshirts.”

I groaned. “Oh my God, ...