The second he was out of sight, it was like someone turned up their volume.
“Hi!” Sera said, grin blooming wide.
“Hi,” Shara echoed, matching it. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
“We heard you’re starting mid-year—”
“—which is, like, bravery points already—”
“—because who does that?”
They traded the verbal baton like they’d been doing it since birth. It should have been annoying. It wasn’t. It was…weirdly comforting. Like a song with a predictable chorus.
“I’m…Diana,” I said, because that felt required. “You already knew that.”
“We did,” Sera said. “But it’s polite to let you say it.”
“Come on,” Shara said, hooking her thumb toward the door at the end of the hall. “We’ll start with the lawn. That’s what everyone does.”
They flanked me as we walked—not trapping, more like bookends. The admin building spat us out onto the front steps. From here, the campus opened up: wide stretches of green, stone paths, clusters of students moving between classes like they were in a brochure.
“The front quad,” Sera said. “Officially it’s just ‘the lawn,’ but that sounds like it’s part of somebody’s house.”
“Which it kind of is,” Shara added, tilting her head at the main building. “This was literally somebody’s house once. Rich people are like that.”
“Now we all get to walk on their grass,” Sera said. “It’s very healing.”
We headed down the steps. A group of juniors passed, laughing at something on someone’s phone, and the twins gave them a little wave. It was returned like they were minor celebrities.
“You’re in ninth, right?” Sera asked.
“Ninth,” I confirmed. “Technically.”
“Us too,” Shara said. “So we’ll see you in class.” They exchanged a glance.
“Well, gym at least, depending on the assessments. I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Sera said cheerfully.
They showed me the main academic building—old brick and white trim outside, modernized inside. “Humanities here,” Shara said, pointing out a bank of classrooms. “English, history, languages.”
“STEM over there,” Sera said, nodding toward the glass-and-steel complex I’d seen from the car. “Labs, makerspace, robotics.”
We popped inside and crossed paths with a kid wheeling a cart full of 3D-printed things that looked like robot guts. Another cluster in lab goggles stood outside a chem room, laughing about something involving ethanol.
Outside again, Shara pointed to a low, wide building with lots of windows. “The student center’s that way. Food, lounges, bookstore.”
“They have the greatest pizza! And coffee,” Sera added. “So much coffee.”
I watched their eyes, wondering if they were like me. I was pretty certain Vinh was, I mean who carries a knife at school? The twins were bubbly, yeah, but not brainless. They clocked everything—who nodded at them, who didn’t, how the flow of traffic moved. They kept me on the inside of walkways without making a production of it, like they were used to shepherding newcomers.
As we walked, I kept having this itch of familiarity. Not just that they were twin-pretty in a way you see in ads. Something else tugged at the back of my brain, like I’d seen their faces under different lighting.
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We turned a corner and the pool building came into view. We stepped inside.
Calling it a pool felt like calling the ocean “some water.” It was Olympic-sized, lanes stretching out under high ceilings, sunlight pouring in from clerestory windows. Flags hung over the lanes. A giant Northbridge banner with the crest in silver took up one far wall. Another wall held framed photos: relay teams, kids on starting blocks, podium shots.
Two of the largest photos were of the twins.
There they were, in sleek tech suits and caps, goggles up, water beading on their shoulders. One shot had them side by side, medals around their necks, flags in the background. The caption underneath read: S. & S. TORRES – NATIONAL QUALIFIERS – OLYMPIC TRIALS.
My stomach did a weird flip.
“Oh,” I said, the pieces finally clicking. “That’s why you looked familiar.”
Shara followed my gaze, then grinned, a little self-conscious. “We, uh…swim,” she said.
“A little,” Sera said.
“You’re—” I pointed at the photo, then at them. “You’re those twins. The ones from the Trials highlights. My mom had the news on. They wouldn’t stop talking about you.”
“Sorry,” Shara said automatically.
“Not sorry,” Sera corrected, bumping her shoulder. “We worked for that.”
“Right.” I shook my head, half in disbelief. “So my tour guides are Olympians.”
“Almost-Olympians,” Shara said. “Trials, not the Games. Yet.”
“But we’re close,” Sera added, and there was steel under the sweetness. “Next cycle.”
I looked back at the pool. A couple of swimmers were cutting through the water, smooth and fast, coaches pacing the deck with stopwatches. It hit me, suddenly, that I was standing in a place where this kind of talent was just…part of the scenery.
“Northbridge likes to show us off,” Sera said, shrugging. “We don’t mind as long as the pool stays this nice.”
“And as long as we get to eat our body weight in noodles after practice,” Shara said. “Which, here, is not a problem.”
I laughed, a little dazed. “Okay,” I said. “So my new school is a postcard of privilege and hosts Olympic-level athletes. No pressure.”
“Pressure’s mostly in the water,” Sera said. “Out here, you just have to get to class on time.”
“And learn not to get run over by the cafeteria stampede,” Shara said. “We’ll show you the safe route.”
They turned away from the glassy stretch of water, and I followed, the echo of splashes and cheers hanging in my head. A week ago, my world had been a cracked parking lot and a dare. Now it was antique desks, placement tests, jewel-tone winged lizards, and twin pre-Olympians offering to show me where to get fries.
“This is the best thinking tree,” Sera announced, veering off the path toward a massive oak that looked like it had been there since the school was somebody’s fancy front yard.
“The best napping tree is over by the science building,” Shara said. “But this one has prime people-watching.”
They dropped their bags at the base like they did this every day—because they probably did—and folded down onto the grass. I hesitated a second, then followed, the blazer tugging when I crossed my legs.
From here, the campus spread out in layers. The main building’s white columns, the STEM glass box winking sunlight, the path where kids streamed between them like a brochure come to life.
“So,” Sera said, leaning back on her hands. “Favorite thing about Northbridge.”
“Food,” Shara answered immediately. “Obviously.”
Sera rolled her eyes affectionately. “Non-edible favorite thing.”
Shara considered. “Okay. The pool. And the fact that Coach doesn’t yell, she just looks disappointed, which is worse, but also better?”
“Academic favorite,” Sera pressed, turning to me now like I’d been sprung with an essay question. “Or…non-favorite. We take all data.”
“Uh.” I picked a blade of grass, rolled it between my fingers. “The logic puzzles were weirdly fun? Does that count?”
Both of them brightened.
“Oh, she’s going to love Ms. Cho,” Sera said.
“Or hate her. There is no middle,” Shara added.
“Cho runs a lot of the…enrichment,” Sera said, choosing the word carefully. “She’s big on thinking sideways.”
“And upside down,” Shara said. “She once had us solve a problem by walking it. Like, literally mapping it on the floor with tape.”
“Of course she did,” I said, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.
“What about you?” I asked, deflecting. “Academic favorite?”
“World history,” they said together, then laughed.
“Ms. Sullivan makes it sound like gossip with dates,” Sera said. “She does all the accents. Badly.”
“And chem lab,” Shara added. “Explosions. Legally sanctioned.”
