BACKSTAGE

The Pacific Hills High parking lot was already nearly full when {{user}} walked through the school gates on that sunny Los Angeles morning.

The distant sound of a ball being thrown on the American football field mingled with conversations scattered throughout the outside corridors, while groups occupied their usual tables as if it were just another ordinary day.

And perhaps it was.

Some cheerleaders were practicing their steps near the court. A group was desperately arguing about a chemistry test. Someone was playing soft music in the parking lot. Teachers were trying to maintain an authority that clearly disappeared after 3 p.m.

Pacific Hills seemed alive. Always alive.

And there, amidst that perfectly imperfect routine, friendships shifted, secrets circulated, reputations rose or crumbled, and the future seemed too close for teenagers who were still trying to figure out who they really were.

The bell rings.

Another day begins.