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Sitting in the drop-off line, I turn up the volume on the Donnie Simpson Morning Show while Naia and Kai babble in the backseat. The line is especially long today, like everyone decided to show up early for work this morning. Must be why Mom was out the door at 6:30, shouting to me as I was just rolling out of bed.

Thankfully Naia was already up and dressed, leaving me to have to wrestle only Kai out of bed and bribe him with Count Chocula to get him to brush his teeth.

As I slowly ease up two spaces in line, Donnie Simpson talking over the music catches my attention. "We're two weeks away from Y2K. Coming up, some quick last-minute tips to help you prepare. But first, we've gotta pay the bills. Back after this."

I roll my eyes so hard the action physically hurts. I'm so sick of hearing about all this Y2K craziness. What on Earth do people think is going to happen? Armageddon?

Finally, I pull up to the front of the line at 7:15 and realize I'm going to be late. Only 15 minutes to fight through traffic, park, and haul ass to the other side of the building before the tardy bell rings. Maybe Ms. Coleman will be late, too.

"I'm hungry," Naia says from the back.

"They give you breakfast before school starts, remember?" I put the car in park and unhook my seatbelt, turning all the way around in my seat to face her.

She looks like the Michelin man all bundled up in her pink winter jumper, hood pulled tight to cover up her tight curls. Her caramel-toned skin is a little pale, like she still isn't quite over the awful cold she and Kai had earlier in the week.

Reaching out to smooth back a couple of escaped strands on Naia's head, I examine her closely for any sign of lingering illness before doing the same with Kai. "You guys go on in so you can get some cereal, the Count Chocula I promised Kai."

"Yay!" the twins say in unison.

Ms. Ross, their third-grade teacher, appears at the door on Kai's side, her ruddy cheeks and watery eyes likely a product of the biting December wind. She knocks lightly on the window before opening the car door.

"Hi, Ms. Ross," the twins shout, entirely too loudly.

I shush them while covering my ears. It's far too early in the morning for all that noise.

Ms. Ross sticks her head through the open door, a huge smile splitting her face. "Indi Brooks. How are you doing, girl! I haven't seen you since you were in my class."

I smile back at my all-time favorite teacher. "Now, Ms. Ross, you know that's not true. I saw you just a couple of years ago. And you're usually not here when I do before-school drop-off. Mom normally picks them up."

"Well, you can stop by my classroom anytime. You know the way, I haven't moved."

A car honks impatiently behind me. I stick a hand out the window to wave an apology.

Turning back, I say, "I'll come see you when I have more time to talk. It was so good to see you, Ms. Ross."

"Good to see you too, Indi. Come on Kai, Naia."

I lean back to kiss both of the twins on the head as they slide across the seat.

"Bye!" Kai shouts, even louder than before, slamming the door shut.

I shake my head affectionately before slowly easing out of the line of cars. The traffic gods must be smiling down on me. For once I don't catch any red lights or slowdowns on the way to Wakefield High School.

After tearing into the student lot, I park the car in my assigned spot and look nervously at the clock. Five minutes to get into the building and to class on time.

"Nico!" I turn to look at my best friend sleeping in the passenger seat. His enviable long lashes brush the tops of his cheeks, his breathing deep and even.

He's kind of cute when he's asleep. I take a second to stare at him unabashedly before remembering we're running behind.

"Nico!" I smack him on the arm, causing him to startle and quickly examine his surroundings. "Get up, we're late."

He grabs his backpack from the floor and rubs a hand over his face before yawning.

"How on Earth could you sleep through all the noise the twins were making?" I ask.

Nico shoots me a lopsided grin. "Heated seats are the best invention. That buttery leather molds to my ass like a warm hug. My compliments to Mr. Volvo."

He snuggles down into the seat while reaching for the door handle.

I laugh. "There's no such person."

I open my own door and regret it immediately. The biting-cold wind whips into the car, instantly slicing through my many layers of clothes. The howling sound of it somehow feels even colder.

The gust catches my door, nearly slamming it into Sarah Olsen's brand-new Land Cruiser. I yelp and lunge for it, catching it at the last possible moment. Definitely can't afford to get that fixed.

I turn to find Nico watching, patiently waiting for me to get myself together. I can almost see a smirk tugging at his lips, but he turns away before I can be sure, his shoulders shaking either from amusement or the weather.

Slinging my backpack over one shoulder, I jog to keep up with Nico's long-legged stride as we enter the two-story building just as the morning bell rings. Waving to Nico, I hurry down the recently-emptied hallway, passing a couple of other tardy students, their sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor.

I quietly open the door to my first class, just enough to slip inside and tiptoe to my seat, hoping Ms. Coleman won't notice me sneaking in. No such luck.

While continuing to write on the chalkboard, she says, "Indira Brooks, you're late. Again. Don't even bother sitting down, go to the principal's office."

Her back is still facing me, and she didn't even break stride or lose concentration on what she was writing. Dang, does she actually have eyes in the back of her head like she's always telling us she does? For the first time, I'm actually starting to believe it.

Grumbling under my breath, I swing my book bag back over my shoulder and march down to the principal's office. I head straight to the office of Mr. Lawrence, the 'cool' vice principal.

I've never been sent to the principal's office before, so I'm not exactly sure how this works, but I quickly explain the situation to him. He proves that his reputation as one of the cool principals is well earned by writing me a tardy slip and sending me on my way.

I return to class with my head held high, gallantly present the note to Ms. Coleman, and skip back to my seat. She glares at me like I'm her arch-nemesis or something before apparently deciding to back down.

Who pissed in her Cheerios? I'm not exactly loving being here either—I mean, whose bright idea was it to have Biology class first thing in the morning?—but she doesn't have to take it out on me. I stick out my tongue behind her head, causing some of the other students to giggle.

"I saw that," Ms. Coleman says.

Now that's just getting freaky.

As I slide into my desk, Renee leans over from her spot behind me. "I can never figure out what Ms. Coleman has against you. What did you do to make her hate you so much?"

I turn my head to the left to whisper back, "I don't know. She should love me like all my other teachers do. I mean, I do have the highest grade in the class."

"Yeah, that's why I can't understand it," Renee responds. "It's not like Ms. Coleman is the most pleasant person to any of us, but it's like she goes out of her way to dump on you."

"She seemed to start acting weird right after she found out I'm dating Levi. I guess she figured her straight-A student shouldn't be with the class troublemaker who's always getting sent to detention."

"She clearly hasn't taken a look at him lately if she can't see the appeal," Renee says.

We both take a second to stare at Levi who's seated in the next row over. Placing my elbow on my desk, I rest my chin in my hand and let out a contented sigh. "Yeah, he definitely is pretty."

He looks over to catch me staring at him and shoots me a cocky grin before turning back to doodle in his notebook.

"You think this boyfriend will last longer than a couple of months?" Renee asks.

I shrug. "Probably not. You know me."

Renee tsks and leans back in her seat.

By the time I get to third period, aka the class I look forward to every day—U.S. History with Mr. Morales, the best teacher ever—I'm finally settling into my groove for the day. I walk into the class with a pep in my step, then groan instantly when I see what's written on the chalkboard.

'Y2K: Hoax or Crisis?'

I can't seem to escape the lunacy lately. Sliding into my desk, I start to wonder who I pissed off upstairs.

"So," Mr. Morales says, laying the chalk down in the tray with a dramatic flair, "some historians now argue that fear of the year 1000 was humanity's first widespread panic event. Sound familiar?"

A few students chuckle. Someone mutters, "Y2K."

The teacher nods. "Exactly. What's the lesson here?"

Without raising my hand, I speak up. "That people love to freak out over nothing. It's basically a hobby."

Laughter ripples across the classroom.

"Indi, always the realist," Mr. Morales says with a smirk. "Care to elaborate?"

I spin an ink pen between my fingers. "In 1910, people thought Halley's Comet was going to poison the air. Before that, 1666 had everyone worked up because of the 'number of the beast.' And don't even get me started on the Millerites. You'd think after so many failed apocalypses, people would learn to chill."

"And Y2K?"

I shrug. "Just another Tuesday."

"Well," Mr. Morales says. "January 1st is actually on a Saturday this year, but I get your point."

"My uncle said he heard the world's ending in 2012, that the Mayans said so," David pipes up. "How can the world end now if it's gonna end then? Do we get to pick which apocalypse we want, or..."

"Nah, this one's more exciting," Aaron says. "I vote Y2K, it's got drama. Planes falling out of the sky, nukes launching, and Windows 95 spontaneously combusting."

Mr. Morales walks around his desk and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yes, thank you for the helpful summary, Aaron. But just so we're clear, the Mayan calendar ending doesn't mean the end of the world, just the end of a baktun cycle. Y2K, on the other hand, is a very real systems problem, and it affects everything from banking to air traffic control to the computers running the power grid."

"Oh no, my Tamagotchi might die again," another student says.

"Sure, if your Tamagotchi was tied into the global defense network," Mr. Morales replies. "But let's talk real stakes. NORAD is relocating operations to Cheyenne Mountain for New Year's Eve."

"Wait... seriously?" I ask. "That bunker from the Cold War? I didn't think anyone was taking this that seriously. They're just moving for fun?"

"Exactly," Mr. Morales answers. "Because even if you don't think anything's going to happen, they're not willing to take the risk. Nothing says 'everything's fine, nothing to see here' like relocating national defense to a Cold War-era bunker. Even Canada agrees this is something to be concerned about."

"Canada?" Aaron says. "What's Canada got to do with it?"

Mr. Morales uncrosses and recrosses his legs. "Oh, just our entire early-warning and missile defense system. NORAD is a joint venture with Canada. Without them, we'd have no functioning radar coverage over the Arctic. If anything were coming, we'd never see it until it's too late.

"Russia's been preparing for Arctic warfare for decades, since at least the Cold War. Since the Arctic Ocean forms almost their entire northern border, it's not paranoia, it's strategy.

"If Canada ever pulled out of NORAD, the U.S. would lose early warning radar coverage over the Arctic. That's our blind spot. And make no mistake. If anyone's gonna come at us from above the globe, it's going to be Russia. They've been practicing."

Well, that's not terrifying at all. I sure hope we never piss off Canada enough to make them want to bail on us.

"We'll find out soon enough whether this apocalypse is real," Mr. Morales continues. "The first timezone will cross into 2000 in Kiribati at 5 a.m. Eastern Standard Time on New Year's Eve. So if the world's going to end, we'll know by breakfast."

The bell rings and we're off to fourth period, but now I can't stop thinking about Y2K. The thing I thought was silly before suddenly has more weight knowing that NORAD is taking this far more seriously than I thought anyone was.

But that only lasts a moment. I still can't believe they're buying into the false hype. I shake my head and venture to the spot Renee and I meet in every day so we can walk into lunch together. We pass Nico on his way out of the cafeteria, his lunch ending as ours begins. I pause for a second to greet him. He sweeps me into a hug, lifting my feet off the ground for a second before placing me back on my feet and continuing to his class.

Renee looks after Nico, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Your boyfriend is very easy on the eyes, but he ain't got nothing on Nico."

I frown. "You think so?"

I turn to watch Nico retreating down the hall.

Renee responds when I turn back to her. "Oh, yeah. Why do you think all those girls are always trying to get with him?"

I think about it for a second before shrugging. "I guess I never thought about it before. I mean, he's hilarious, and a lot of fun to be around. And girls do like to be with someone who's funny."

Renee nudges me. "You've seriously never thought about him that way before?"

"No, never. He's my best friend and I've always just seen him as the boy next-door. But enough about him, where are we gonna sit today?"

After grabbing our lunch, Renee and I end up sitting with the jocks, joining them in the middle of discussing this weekend’s Redskins game against the Colts. Hunter turns to me as I slide into the seat beside him.

“You think the Redskins will win?” he asks.

I give a half shrug. “I don’t know. We’ve been pretty decent this year, but Manning is on fire. I don’t see how we stop him.”

Hunter hums his agreement. The warning bell rings and we all gather our trash and stand to leave the table. I say bye to Renee and she exits through the nearest door on the way to her next class.

As I'm crossing the cafeteria to the far side, I notice my ex-best friend Simone coming in hot with her friend, Lisa, and her boyfriend, Owen, flanking her. Or are they her enemy and ex-boyfriend by now? I can't keep track when it comes to Simone.

I make a move to go around them, but Simone takes a giant step to her left, cutting me off.

I let out an exasperated breath. "I don't have time for whatever this is."

Simone looks down her nose—quite a feat since she's a few inches shorter than me—and places her fists on her hips. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you're crushing on my man."

My pulse starts racing, sweat slicking my palms. I hate confrontations. But that won't stop me from kicking her ass if I have to.

Simone is like a shark. If she smells blood in the water, she'll attack even harder.

I keep my face blank, refusing to give her the satisfaction. "Why do you think I'm crushing on Owen? That is the 'man' you're referring to, right? Not the guy you were giving head in the Kroger parking lot just last week while we were still friends? Or whatever passes for friendship in your world?"

Owen looks at her with uncertainty and I almost feel sorry for the guy. He's actually a nice person and I don't have anything against him. Seems the barb I lobbed at Simone landed on the wrong target.

Simone screeches in the empty cafeteria, the sound echoing around the room. "I'm not the ho who sleeps around with anyone who looks at me twice."

"Are you suggesting that I am?" I place a hand on my chest. "Newsflash: I'm a virgin. I only said I slept with those guys because I was trying to keep up with you. I don't know why I thought I had to, but I'm done with it."

Simone splutters for a second before the indignant look settles on her face once again. "You lied about that? That might be even more pathetic than actually being a ho. Not that anyone would want to sleep with you, Bucky Beaver."

Bucky Beaver? I've never been accused of being bucktoothed in my life, my teeth have always been perfect. Though I did have to get my wisdom teeth cut out over the summer, they were too big for my mouth.

Crap, the dentist said they were pushing my whole jawline forward. Did that give me an overbite? I discreetly reach up to feel if my front teeth are protruding, covering it with a fake yawn.

"Tell yourself whatever you want to feel better about yourself. But I'd much rather be buck-toothed than to lose my virginity to a one-night stand when I was 14," I shoot back.

Simone gasps. "I told you that in confidence! You're just trying to make me look bad in front of Owen because you want him!"

"You told me that in confidence?" I reply. "Sweetie, the whole school already knew, mostly because so many of them are ex-friends of yours. I would never have spilled any of your actual secrets, you know me better than that. And what makes you think I want Owen? I've said he was cute but that's about it. You know how many people actually have crushes on him and you choose to come after me?"

"Someone told me they heard you talking about it in band class."

"Well, that 'someone' is mistaken," I say earnestly. "They may have overheard me talking with a friend who has a crush on him, but it wasn't me."

"Who's this 'friend' you were talking to?" She uses air quotes before jamming her fists back on her hips.

I shake my head. "That's not my secret to tell."

"No, it's because you made up this 'friend'." Simone starts coming at me like she wants to fight.

Owen grabs her arm to stop her. For the first time, I realize neither he nor Lisa have said anything since they all walked up. I actually forgot they were even here. Maybe I shouldn't be making grand confessions about my lack of a sex life in front of random witnesses. Oops.

Why are they even here anyway? Does Simone need an audience to maintain this bravado?

My heart's still pounding. I hate all of this—the yelling, the posturing, the threat of it turning physical. I'm done with this.

I spin on my heel and walk toward my next class. I hear Simone screaming obscenities behind me and yelling that this isn't over. I'm not sure why none of the principals have heard her yet.

When I walk into marketing class, the one class I share with Nico, he seems to instantly sense my mood. Peeling away from the group of students he's talking to, he walks over to me and throws a casual arm around my shoulder to give me a side hug.

"Aww, it's okay," he says. "I know it pains you to go all day without seeing me but I'm here now."

Despite myself, I smile. "Yeah, I guess seeing you does make things better."

"That's the spirit!" He wrinkles his nose. "You're going to have to work on your tardiness, though. You're lucky Mr. Lewis never leaves his office. He could be building a nuclear bomb back there for all we'd know."

I look toward the door to Mr. Lewis's office at the back of the room. "I sure hope not. But, hey, the world's going to end in 14 days, so it won't matter for long."

Nico laughs. The deep, barking sound makes his torso vibrate and I sink deeper into his chest. I don't know how he does it, but Nico can turn my pissiest of moods around. This class came right on time.