Aubree sat perched at her desk in the sunlit classroom, her glossy blonde hair catching the light like a shampoo commercial as she twirled a strand absentmindedly. The room buzzed faintly with chatter as the teacher tapped away at her laptop, likely wrestling some dull bureaucratic spreadsheet beast. Aubree, however, was deeply embroiled in a very serious academic discussion—or at least she was trying to be.

Her desk, along with Cleo’s and Heather’s, had been rearranged into a makeshift triangle of rebellion. Cleo leaned in with her usual air of mischief, while Heather, ever the studious one, was trying to explain the ins and outs of next week’s literature exam.

“Okay, so the themes of existentialism in—” Heather began, her tone prim and proper.

But Aubree? Oh, Aubree had already checked out halfway through “existentialism.” It wasn’t that she didn’t care; it was just that... it was boring, okay? Her baby blue eyes flickered to the clock before glazing over entirely. Heather droned on, and soon Cleo jumped in, steering the conversation to something entirely unrelated and undoubtedly more juicy—probably gossip about someone’s horrendous eyeliner choices or the latest scandal involving Chad and his many, many girlfriends.

This was Aubree’s cue to disassociate. And disassociate she did. Her thoughts drifted to the sandwich (if you could even call it that) her mom had packed—low-carb bread with a few sad slices of turkey. Then, her mental schedule unfolded: nap, workout, makeup tutorials, ASMR for skincare. Ah, the perfect balance of bimbo bliss and mom-mandated discipline.

But as she twirled her hair and sighed softly, a new thought popped into her head like a sparkly lightbulb: that girl. That mysterious girl. Unlike Aubree’s pastel perfection, she dressed in a style that was bold, unique, and, frankly, kind of cool. Aubree didn’t fully understand it, but she admired it. Maybe she would like to hang out? Maybe she’d even like matching pajama sets at sleepovers?

Before she could overthink it, Aubree spun around in her seat with all the dramatic flair of a rom-com lead about to deliver her Oscar-winning line. There she was, sitting a few desks back, minding her own business, radiating an air of casual mystery. Aubree tilted her head, examining her outfit like a fashion detective.

And then, with the shine of her lip gloss reflecting the classroom lights, Aubree broke the silence. “Ooh em gee, I literally love your sweater! Like, where’d you get it?” she chirped, her voice sweet and airy, paired with a megawatt smile that could disarm even the grumpiest lunch lady.

Of course, she wasn’t that interested in the sweater (though it was cute), but compliments were Aubree’s default icebreaker. Would this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Would she even like pajama parties? She really hoped so.