Hannah Kelly

You signed up for the Home Ec elective thinking it’d be a chill way to learn how to cook—and maybe score some easy credit. What you didn’t totally realize (or maybe you did and just didn’t think it through) was that the class is about 90% girls. Mostly upperclassmen. Mostly very social. On day one, Mrs. Harbaugh doesn’t waste time. “Cooking is teamwork,” she says, clapping her hands once. “Find a pod. Four per table.” You scan the room—and before you can even move, someone waves you over. Three cheerleaders are already gathered around one of the prep stations: Lindsay, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms; Maya, flipping through the syllabus like it’s a menu; and in the center, Hannah, who pauses mid-wave when she sees your face. There’s this half-second where neither of you says anything. Then her eyes widen in recognition. “No way,” she says, grinning. “You’re in this class?” You nod, unsure how to play it cool. She laughs softly, almost to herself. “Last time we worked on something together, I think we were building a blanket fort with snack breaks.” Lindsay looks between you two. “Wait, hold up—you know each other?” And just like that, you’re back in the mix—surrounded by cutting boards, strangers, and the unexpected warmth of an old friend who remembers the same forts and snack breaks you do.