Ethan had been in a pretty decent mood, considering it was a Tuesday.
His morning was quiet—Luke hadn't exploded anything, Claire was only on her second passive-aggressive post-it note of the day, and even Haley had acknowledged his presence with a non-insult.
Which, in Dunphy terms, was a hug.
He met Maya by the lockers, as usual. She gave him a wave with her half-closed book tucked under one arm.
"Ready for history?" she asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be to listen to Mr. Trent talk about trade routes like they're plot twists."
They started walking down the hall when Maya stopped suddenly, her gaze caught on something—or someone—a few feet ahead.
"That's new," she said under her breath.
Ethan followed her eyes.
A girl stood by the office window, speaking to the secretary. Tall, confident, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted jacket that looked too cool for public school. Her movements were precise. She didn't fidget, didn't glance around nervously like most transfer students. Even the way she held her file folder looked calculated.
She didn't look like she was trying to make an impression.
She looked like she already had one.
"New student?" Ethan guessed.
"Either that or she's here to take over the school," Maya replied. "My money's on option two."
The girl turned, just slightly, and Ethan caught a glimpse of her expression—sharp eyes, relaxed posture, the kind of confidence that didn't ask for permission. She was striking, no doubt about it. But there was something else too. Something unreadable.
Later that day, she showed up in Ethan's fourth-period English class. Mrs. Reynolds cleared her throat and gestured toward the chalkboard.
"Class, this is Jane Smith. She's just transferred here from out of state. Please welcome her and—more importantly—don't scare her away on her first day."
Ethan heard the seat beside him scrape.
Jane sat down.
She didn't look at him right away. Instead, she pulled out a notebook, neatly labeled, and opened to a blank page.
Ethan tried to focus on Mrs. Reynolds' lecture about metaphor and subtext, but his mind kept flicking back to Jane. There was something about her. A kind of poise, like she was always assessing the room. Like she knew things—knew people—before they even said a word.
After class, as the bell rang, Ethan hesitated.
Then, carefully, he turned toward her.
"Hey. I'm Ethan."
She looked at him with a kind of quiet curiosity.
"I know," she said, tucking a pen behind her ear.
"You know?"
"You're friends with Maya. And those two... Shawn and Gus. The pineapple guy and the guy who carries wipes."
He blinked. "You've been here for one day."
"I observe quickly," she said.
A beat passed. She adjusted her backpack, stood, and added, "It's a good group. I might sit with you tomorrow. If you're okay with that."
Ethan nodded, still a bit stunned. "Yeah. Of course."
"Cool." She gave a quick smile—just one corner of her mouth lifting—then walked off before he could respond.
—
The next day at lunch, she did sit with them.
Shawn immediately launched into his usual interrogation.
"Jane Smith, huh? That's not suspicious at all."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "It's a common name."
"It's also what spies use when they don't want you to know their real name."
Gus sighed. "Shawn, stop accusing the new girl of being a spy. We haven't even finished our lunch."
"I didn't say spy," Shawn said, pointing dramatically. "I said highly trained covert operative."
Jane took a sip from her water bottle, completely unfazed. "You watch too much TV."
"And you deflected that like someone trained in psychological manipulation," Shawn said, pointing at her with a carrot stick. "I like her."
Cher leaned across the table. "Jane, ignore him. He once tried to convince the principal that the vending machines were watching us."
"I had evidence," Shawn insisted.
Jane turned to Maya. "Is it always like this?"
"Only on Tuesdays. And Fridays. And all the other days."
Ethan watched as Jane eased into their rhythm faster than he expected. She didn't talk much, but when she did, it landed. Sharp, dry, insightful. She didn't laugh often—but when she did, it was real.
Later that afternoon, Ethan caught up to her after music class. She was leaning against the stairwell, reading quietly.
"Settling in okay?" he asked.
She looked up. "Better than expected. You all seem... different."
"Different good?"
Jane gave a small nod. "Different not fake."
That made Ethan smile.
As they walked toward their next class, Jane added, "I don't usually do friend groups. Too messy. But this one might be worth the chaos."
Ethan didn't say anything.
He just adjusted his backpack and kept walking, trying not to smile too obviously.