Maybe, probably.

Chapter 1: Quinn

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Wake up. Breathe. Go to school. Sleep. Repeat.

My whole life is planned down to the very second. From where I'm going to go for college to what I'm eating for breakfast every morning. I don't mind it. It's what my mother has wanted for me since she got pregnant when she was 17. She has always told me that ever since my father abandoned her and I, she would never let her child make the same mistake.

So when I was born, she decided I would be the person she always wanted to be. I promised her I would be. And for my mother, I would do anything. As of now, I was making good progress on that promise. Reviewing my grades on my phone, I double checked my Chemistry grade. Perfect 100.

The bus was crowded this morning, coughing mothers and snoozing children lining the bus and with two people on my left and right pushing into my personal space bubble, I was seriously considering taking my chances and holding onto the rail that would most likely give me some kind of sickness- "Stop 6#: West Central High-school."

The bus neared the front of my school, the sun not even up yet with just a few students walking in the courtyard and entering the building.

I sighed in relief and stood, swaying, as the bus finally stopped. A few kids in the bus stood as well, all with earbuds in and hoods on. I, on the other hand, wore deep blue jeans, no rips, with a white, fluffy sweater, paired with my favorite black combat boots.

My backpack weighting me down, I walked toward the exit of the bus, the doors screeching apart. I was first out the door, the crisp, chilly morning air hitting my olive-toned face and giving my cheeks a probable flush.

The dark sidewalk clicking under my boots, I looked both ways down the empty street, as I've always done since I was a child.I sprinted across the street, heels still clicking. The other kids just walked across the street, hands in their pockets, not even bothering to look. It was way too early to be on a rush to school, being only 6:15. I reached the other side, slowing to a quick walk.

The entrance of my school growing closer and closer, I grabbed onto the front straps of my backpack, tucking my thumbs underneath, and strode into another normal day.

. . .

Every morning started out the same. I would always go to my locker, empty out what I didn't need my first two or three periods and figure out when I had time to come back for it during class changes.

I would sit at my locker, flip open my notes and begin studying while waiting for Kayla.Kayla...My best friend since...forever. As well as my cousin. Our mother's were like sisters so I guess we were carrying on that tradition.

I remember us doing everything together. From baths, to kindergarten, to fighting off stupid boys pulling our pigtails in elementary. She was always the fighter of us two. In 2nd grade, Brandon Thomas squirted his juice box down the back of my shirt. I cried and she hit him in the head with her backpack. I remember our mothers yelling at the teachers about reprimanding us while Brandon got off scot free. I remember our mothers being banned from entering the schools property for a week. Another memory, as clear as day, of us getting ice cream afterwards.

My phone's clock read 6:30. More and more people started to file in, Kayla no where to be seen yet. She's usually here by now. She must be running late, I'll text her to see what's up.

Today: 6:31 a.m.

Quinn: Hey! I'm here. Usual spot by the lockers.

Delivered...