Two weeks had passed since Ethan's first day of high school, and in that time one thing had firmly wedged itself into his daily routine: lunch with Maya Henderson.
Every noon, Ethan would find their usual table under the atrium window, and Maya would arrive with a quick wave and an easy smile.
Today was no different—except that Ethan felt a subtle shift in their comfort level. The awkward new-kid small talk of that first cafeteria lunch had given way to a warm familiarity.
They joked about teachers, compared notes on classes, and even shared the occasional comfortable silence while eating. Ethan, who normally preferred every minute planned, found himself actually looking forward to these unstructured moments with Maya.
It was a pleasant surprise, like discovering a new favorite song hidden in an old album.
"So, Mr. Gregson gave us another pop quiz in Bio today," Maya was saying between bites of her sandwich. She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I swear he enjoys watching us squirm. The man's got the grin of a villain when he whips out those quizzes."
Ethan smirked, peeling his orange in four perfect quadrants.
"At least you got question five right. I blanked on the difference between mitosis and meiosis, and he looked so disappointed. I half expected him to say, 'I'm not angry, just disappointed.'"
Ethan imitated their Biology teacher's gravelly tone, earning a laugh from Maya.
"Well, you've helped me in Algebra enough times already," Maya pointed out. "We make a good team. Who knew lab partners could become actual friends?"
She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.
Ethan felt a small warm pride at that word—friends. It was still a new concept to him at school, having mostly kept to himself before.
"Yeah. And for the record, I knew dissecting a frog together forged unbreakable bonds," he deadpanned. "That's why all great friendships start over formaldehyde and frog innards."
Maya giggled, crinkling her nose. "Ew, don't remind me. I'm still convinced I smell like frog."
She plucked a fry from her tray and pointed it at him.
"Speaking of smells, do you detect pineapple, or is it just me?"
Ethan paused. Now that she mentioned it, a distinctly sweet tang of pineapple was drifting through the cafeteria.
Before he could answer, the source of the scent made itself known.
A boy about their age was striding backward into the cafeteria, holding up a whole pineapple like it was a camcorder filming the crowd.
He had spiky dark hair and a mischievous grin, walking in reverse with a swagger.
Beside him followed another boy with a tidy haircut and an expression caught between embarrassment and amusement. The second boy carried a stack of books and what looked like a Tupperware lunch container.
"Shawn," the sensible-looking boy hissed, "would you quit it? Why are you walking backward?"
The spiky-haired one—apparently named Shawn—swiveled and spun the pineapple in his hand.
"Gus, my friend, life is all about perspective. Maybe I want to see where I've been. Or maybe I'm demonstrating the principle of reverse trajectory for these fine people."
He gestured broadly at the bemused students staring at him.
Maya raised her eyebrows. Ethan recognized them now: Shawn Spencer and Burton "Gus" Guster.
They were fellow freshmen who had quickly gained a reputation.
In just two weeks, Ethan had heard plenty: Shawn was the class clown who claimed he was psychic (though mostly he just had a Sherlock-level eye for detail), and Gus was his steadfast best friend, known for acing tests and rolling his eyes at Shawn's antics.
They were an odd duo, but clearly inseparable.
"Should we invite them to sit?" Maya whispered, noticing that the cafeteria's tables were filling up.
Shawn and Gus seemed to be searching for a spot.
Ethan shrugged lightly. Chaos tended to follow those two like a puppy, and he wasn't sure if his orderly lunch routine could handle it.
But before he could answer, Shawn made the decision for them.
"Mind if we join?" Shawn asked, already sliding his pineapple onto Ethan and Maya's table as a centerpiece.
Gus gave an apologetic smile and set down his books.
"Um, sure," Ethan said, adjusting his neatly folded napkin out of the way as Shawn plunked down a tray containing only a pudding cup and an apple.
Gus's tray was more traditional, though Ethan noted Gus had partitioned his food meticulously—sandwich diagonally cut, carrots lined up, even his juice box squared with the tray's edge.
A fellow organizer, Ethan thought with some relief.
"We come bearing pineapple," Shawn announced grandly, as if that explained everything.
He took a seat, tucking his chair in noisily.
"I'm Shawn, by the way. Shawn Spencer. And this is my partner in crime, Gus. He's the Watson to my Sherlock, the Chewbacca to my Han, the—"
Gus cleared his throat.
"I can introduce myself, thank you very much."
He offered his hand to Maya and Ethan politely.
"Burton Guster. Everyone calls me Gus."
Maya shook his hand, smiling. "Maya Henderson. And this is Ethan Dunphy."
Ethan gave a little wave. "Hi."
He hoped the greeting didn't sound as stiff as he felt.
New people at their table—this wasn't on his mental itinerary for today.
Still, he reminded himself, making new friends was a good kind of unpredictable. Probably.
"Dunphy?" Shawn's eyes lit up as he peeled the lid off his chocolate pudding.
"Any relation to Phil Dunphy, the real estate guy with the billboards? 'Phil Dunphy: Turning Your Realty into Reality'? I love those ads. Classic rhyme scheme."
Ethan blinked, surprised. "Uh, he's my dad, actually."
Shawn slapped the table, making Gus's perfectly aligned carrots jump.
"Ha! I knew it. I have an eye for faces and names. Besides, you've got the same smile, man. That 'I sell suburban dream homes' smile."
Shawn mimed a cheesy grin and thumbs-up.
Ethan chuckled despite himself.
Leave it to his dad's relentless self-promotion to precede Ethan into social situations.
"That's Dad, alright."
Gus leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Shawn practically grew up in your dad's client's houses. His father's a cop, but Shawn spent more time sneaking into open houses for free cookies."
"Free cookies aside, I go where the people are," Shawn defended breezily. "Helps hone my observational skills. Speaking of which—"
He turned to Maya, studying her with narrowed eyes, then dramatically pressed two fingers to his temple as if receiving a psychic vision.
"I'm sensing… I'm sensing that you, Maya, were not originally a public school kid. You have… private school vibes."
Maya's eyes widened in surprise. "Okay, that's actually true. I transferred from Saint Augustine's this year. How could you possibly—"
"She's got a tiny ink stain on her cuff that's the exact shade of Saint Augustine's fountain pen ink," Shawn declared, clearly pleased with himself.
"Plus, she said 'pop quiz' earlier with a tone of someone who hasn't experienced the public school delight of constant quizzes. And her posture screams 'uniform background'—you're too used to sitting up straight in chapel or assembly or something."
Ethan and Gus stared at Shawn.
Maya broke into a grin, letting out a stunned laugh.
"That's… uncanny."
"That's Shawn," Gus sighed, half proud, half exasperated. "Don't mind him. He likes to play psychic detective."
"It's kind of our thing," Shawn said, winking. "We solve mysteries no one asked us to solve."
He wiggled his fingers spookily at Ethan.