The Exact Moment Everything Went Wrong
There are many ways to become famous at school.
Winning a championship.
Being insanely good-looking.
Saving someone's life dramatically in the cafeteria.
I did none of those.
Instead, I became famous because my voice cracked, my brain malfunctioned, and my mouth betrayed me before 8:00 a.m.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
My name is Alex Carter, I'm sixteen years old, and on the first day of the new semester, I had one goal:
Stay invisible.
No drama.
No attention.
No becoming a story people tell with hand gestures.
I even planned my outfit carefully—plain hoodie, jeans, shoes that didn't squeak. I practiced neutral facial expressions in the mirror. I told myself Don't talk unless spoken to.
This was going to be my semester.
The universe laughed.
I arrived at school ten minutes early, which already felt suspicious. The front gates were packed with loud, confident people who acted like summer break had personally upgraded them. Meanwhile, I clutched my backpack like it was emotional support.
I took a deep breath.
Just walk in. Locker. First period. Survival.
Easy.
I stepped through the doors—and immediately tripped on absolutely nothing.
My foot caught air.
My body panicked.
My backpack swung forward like it was trying to escape.
I stumbled, windmilled, and smacked into a trash can that definitely did not consent to being part of my entrance.
Metal clanged.
Someone gasped.
Someone laughed.
"I'M FINE," I announced loudly, because my brain thinks embarrassment is best handled with public declarations.
I was not fine.
I straightened up, face burning, and pretended the trash can and I had always been enemies.
That's when Jordan appeared.
Jordan is my best friend. Jordan is chaos in human form. Jordan thrives in situations where I spiritually leave my body.
"ALEX!" Jordan shouted, sprinting toward me. "IT'S YOU! YOU SURVIVED SUMMER!"
They hugged me at full speed.
My backpack slipped off my shoulder. Papers exploded everywhere—schedule, notebook, one extremely embarrassing doodle I hoped no one saw.
"Jordan," I hissed, crouching down. "Indoor voice."
"This is my indoor voice," Jordan said proudly.
Students walked past, stepping over my schedule like it was modern art. I scrambled to grab everything.
"This semester," I muttered, "I am being calm. Normal. Unmemorable."
Jordan snorted. "That's cute."
I stood up too fast.
That was mistake number two.
My backpack strap snagged on a locker handle behind me. I yanked forward, panicked, and without consulting my brain, I blurted out—
"I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN GO TO MATH CLASS."
The hallway went silent.
Not awkward silence.
Horror movie silence.
Even the air seemed disappointed in me.
I slowly turned around.
Behind me stood Mr. Henderson.
My math teacher.
He was holding a coffee. He was wearing his usual cardigan. He was staring directly into my soul.
"I see," he said calmly. Too calmly. "That's an interesting way to start the semester, Alex."
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—what I meant was—figuratively—math is just—numbers are scary—"
A laugh snorted from somewhere behind me.
Someone else pulled out their phone.
Jordan whispered, "Oh my god."
Mr. Henderson adjusted his glasses. "We'll discuss your… feelings during first period."
He walked away.
The silence shattered instantly.
Voices exploded.
"Did you hear that?"
"That kid just said they'd rather die!"
"Was that about math?"
"Someone recorded it!"
My phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
Then again.
I looked down.
School Group Chat – 37 new messages
Jordan leaned over my shoulder. "Alex," they said slowly, "you're already trending."
"I don't want to be trending," I whispered.
I checked the messages.
@Liam: LMAOOO
@Sophie: DID ANYONE GET THAT ON VIDEO
@Unknown: 'Rather die than math' is crazy
@Emma: Who even IS that kid??
That kid.
That was me.
I felt my soul exit my body and take a vacation.
"I ruined everything," I said. "It hasn't even been an hour."
Jordan grinned. "On the bright side, people know you exist now."
"I DIDN'T WANT THAT."
The bell rang.
Students surged toward their classes, buzzing with energy and gossip. I stood frozen, watching my peaceful semester dissolve in real time.
As I turned toward my locker, I noticed someone watching me.
Maya Reynolds.
My brain short-circuited.
Maya was… well. Maya. Smart. Funny. Effortlessly cool. The kind of person who looked like they belonged in slow-motion scenes.
She raised an eyebrow at me.
Then she smiled.
Not a mean smile.
An amused one.
"Bold statement," she said as she passed