One

Ava Baldwin hadn’t meant to lose her temper. But Owen King deserved it.

The trouble began the first week of seventh grade in Language Arts. As part of a unit on Greek myths, everyone had to choose a god or goddess to write a report on. Ava, who loved mythology, already knew who she was going to pick. She was the second shortest girl in the seventh grade—and probably would have been the shortest if her wild brown curls weren’t constantly escaping her tight French braid—so she raised her hand extra high so Ms. Greenberg could see it.

“Ava?” Ms. Greenberg said.

“Ah—”

But before she could finish, Owen shouted out, “Athena!”

“Is your name Ava?” Ms. Greenberg asked him.

“Yes, Ms. Greenberg,” Owen said in a high, squeaky voice that sounded nothing like Ava.

The class laughed and so did Owen. Even Isabelle and Evelyn tittered along. They’d been Ava’s best friends all through elementary school, writing stories together and obsessing over their favorite books. But in the middle of sixth grade, they’d changed. Instead of adventures and magic, they wanted to talk about the popular kids and were always on their phones. Ava still hung out with them, but it wasn’t as much fun. She felt as if they tolerated her presence rather than really wanted to include her, and soon enough, they weren’t even doing that. By spring, she’d learned that they were ditching her to hang out at the mall with a big, noisy group that even included a few couples.

Owen, with his blond hair and twinkly blue eyes, was one of the popular boys. He was always talking over girls and making dumb jokes, but somehow everyone—even teachers—seemed to love him.

Ava forced a smile, as if she found his impersonation funny, but her chest tightened with anger. She tried to do the deep breathing her mom had taught her to calm herself down. Inhale, two, three—

“Athena’s cool,” Owen continued, as if Ms. Greenberg hadn’t signaled for him to wait his turn. “I mean, everyone likes Zeus and Poseidon and all those guys, but she’s this super strong girl.”

Ava had chosen Athena for a similar reason: she was the only goddess who had ever seemed anywhere near as powerful or interesting as the male gods. But Ava couldn’t say that now. Exhale, four, five.

“I like the way you think, Owen,” Ms. Greenberg said. “More boys should read about strong girls . . . and goddesses.”

Ava forgot all about her breathing and lurched upright in frustration. Had Ms. Greenberg forgotten that “girl-power Owen” had just cut her off? Owen’s self-satisfied smile made her fume.

“So I get Athena, right?” he asked.

Before she could stop herself, Ava called out, “Ms. Greenberg! I was going to choose Athena.”

“Ava, let’s remember to raise our hand.”

What?! Ms. Greenberg was being completely unfair: Owen hadn’t raised his hand once! Ava started to raise hers to point this out when she noticed Isabelle roll her eyes and whisper something to Evelyn.

Last spring, after Ava had confronted Isabelle for leaving her out, Isabelle had texted, “Your really intense its not fun for everyone else.” Was she being too intense now? She tried to think about what the others would do in her place. Isabelle would probably find Owen’s enthusiasm for Athena “cute.” Evelyn would pick a different god as if it was no big deal. Ava let her hand fall back down.

“How about this?” Ms. Greenberg smiled at her as if she’d found some fantastic solution. “You and Owen can both write about her. There’s only twelve major gods and goddesses, so everyone’s going to have to double up anyway. You two will be our Athenas.”

This didn’t strike Ava as fair at all, especially when a few other girls who clearly had also wanted to write about Athena grumbled in disappointment. Ms. Greenberg had just let Owen shove ahead of all of them. But it seemed unwise to challenge a teacher, especially the first week of school.

“Fine with me,” Owen said, though no one had asked him.

“Ava?” Ms. Greenberg said.

Ava scanned the room. No one else looked upset. Olivia and Sophia, two of the girls who had wanted Athena, were whispering, probably about their second choices. Isabelle was impatiently tapping her fingers on her desk like this was taking forever and it was all Ava’s fault.

“Sure,” Ava said. But deep down she was still mad.

“Wonderful!” Ms. Greenberg trilled. “Ava, I think your brother chose Athena too. I still remember his report. It was very creative!”

Ava forced another smile, as if she relished being compared for the umpteenth time to Jaxon, boy genius, who’d won all the academic awards since kindergarten. Every teacher who’d had her brother expected her to get the same perfect grades and then was disappointed when she didn’t. She tried at least to be agreeable, which her mom said was just as important. But it was a lot harder in middle school, where nothing seemed fair.

Library was Ava’s last period of the day and usually her favorite. At lunch, she still sat with Isabelle and Evelyn; being ignored by them was less painful than circling the cafeteria with her tray or sitting by herself. At least in the library she could hide out alone in the stacks, reading, and no one noticed. But today her English class was supposed to find books for their god or goddess reports, and, to make matters worse, Ms. Sanchez, the librarian, explained that a lot of the good ones had already been checked out by earlier classes.

Searching the digital catalog, Ava found a book about Athena, Goddess of Heroes, that was allegedly not checked out. Keeping a careful eye on Ms. Sanchez, who did not like running, she speed-walked to the Religion & Mythology section on the other side of the library. But just as she got there, she realized she had forgotten to close out the page with her search results. When she glanced back, Owen was standing right in front of it.

Ava had barely scanned the shelves when she heard Ms. Sanchez barking at him to walk. She raced through the call numbers—292.13TA, 292.13TE—until she saw Goddess of Heroes on the top shelf. But just as she reached up, a hand darted over hers and snatched the book from the shelf.

“Hey!” Ava blurted, spinning around. “Give it back!”

Owen stuck his free hand, palm up, in the air. “What?” he said innocently.

Ava’s face burned. “You know what!”

Her voice was loud but quivery.

“Whoa, Ava,” he said. “It’s just a library book. You can borrow it when I’m done.”

He sounded calm, reasonable. Ava knew if she spoke again, she wouldn’t sound like him. Words would come out she couldn’t control. She hated feeling this way, like she might explode into a million pieces in front of everyone. Other kids were looking at her, including Isabelle and Evelyn. She needed to get control of herself, but it was too late for breath counting.

She tried to imagine she was in the pool. Her mom had taught her to swim as soon as she could walk; last spring, after Evelyn had stopped returning her texts and Isabelle had a sleepover party without her, swim practice with her rec team was the only activity that made her feel better. But thinking about water only opened the floodgates. Oh no, she thought, I’m going to cry.

“Ava, are you okay?” Isabelle said, with a hint of annoyance.

The message was clear: she was being too intense again, embarrassing herself. Owen gave a shrug, as if he had no idea what was wrong with her, as if it had nothing to do with him. Ava just wanted to get away, but everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to answer.

“Fine,” she muttered. “It’s just—”

“Chill out, Ava,” Owen interrupted. “It’s not a big deal.”

With a pop, Ava’s pent-up anger exploded. An electric surge of rage coursed through her entire body, from her toes to the top of her head. Her vision narrowed. Her muscles tightened. She took a step toward Owen, locked her eyes on him.

“I was the one who found it!” she shouted. “And taking my book right out of my hands was a big deal! It was a big deal to me!”

Her voice was shaking, and her brow was all sweaty. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her frizzy curls sticking out all over the place. But Ava no longer cared what she looked like or what her former friends thought. She kept glaring at Owen. His mouth had fallen open. But he just stared at her with his clear blue eyes, looking stunned.

Ms. Sanchez careened around the corner. “Ava Baldwin, what is going on? That’s not a library voice—”

Just like that, Ava’s anger sputtered out, replaced by shame. She wondered if Ms. Sanchez would call her mom. She had never gotten in trouble at school before. She looked down at the floor. “Owen took my—”

“Is he okay?” Isabelle interrupted.

Ava looked up and realized Owen hadn’t moved at all. He was still staring at her with the same dumbfounded expression.

“Owen!” Ms. Sanchez said.

He stayed silent. Ava studied his face for a twitch of his lip or a flutter of his eyelid. No response.

Ms. Sanchez marched right up to him and waved her hand in front of his face. Ava waited for him to burst out laughing or shout “sike!” But Owen didn’t even blink.

A trickle of drool ran down his chin.

“Isabelle, run and get the nurse—now!” Ms. Sanchez said. “Tell her Owen King is having a seizure.” Then she jammed her finger into his open mouth and held down his tongue.

“That’s so he won’t choke on it,” said Sophia, whose mom was a doctor.

Ava was sure Owen would finally give up his ridiculous act and cry out—it made her want to gag, imagining Ms. Sanchez’s red-painted nails grabbing her tongue—but he kept staring off into space.

Panic engulfed Ava. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t do anything—”

“Of course, you didn’t!” Ms. Sanchez snapped.

“I just got mad—”

“Ava, this has nothing to do with you. Go sit down on the reading rug with your book! Everyone else, too!”

Ava scurried over to the reading rug. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. But that wasn’t what mattered. The story would be around the entire middle school in no time. Who would want to sit with her or be her friend when Angry Ava might freak out on them? She caught Evelyn’s eye, hoping for a look of sympathy, but Evelyn turned away. Ava had never felt so alone.