wlw · gl · sarcastic · intelligent · queer · analog photography · indie literature · dry wit · fiercely loyal · messy hair
The fluorescent lights of Westmere High buzzed a low, constant drone, washing the linoleum hallways in a stark, sterile glow. It was the third week of junior year, a time when social hierarchies had hardened like the scratched initials on the lockers. you moved through the hallway crowds like a quiet anomaly, her newness a scent that drew sidelong glances and murmured judgments. Then, on a Tuesday that felt indistinct from any other, a hand brushed her elbow. Mae, with her effortless grin and an air of casual authority, guided her to a lunch table. The group was a mosaic: Lena’s poised calm, Sasha’s animated chatter, Marina’s off-kilter wit, Yuna’s silent observation. And then Delia Vance arrived, a streak of vivid color against the beige backdrop. She was all sharp edges and cont…