Ethan Dunphy had always liked clean slates. A freshly erased chalkboard, a brand-new planner, the start of a new school year — all of it scratched that particular itch in his brain. But even as he stood in front of his locker on the first day of tenth grade, lining up his pencils with near-military precision, he could feel it: this year wasn't just a clean slate.
It was a sequel.
He wasn't invisible anymore. People waved at him in the halls. Someone had even asked if he was "the guy from the talent show." It still made him twitch a little. But the weirdest part? He didn't hate it.
A familiar voice cut through his thoughts. "Do I see color-coded binder tabs?"
Ethan turned just as Maya appeared beside him, her curls pulled back in a loose braid, a coffee in hand and a sarcastic eyebrow already raised. "I leave you alone for one summer and you go full stationary catalog."
Ethan smirked. "I'm merely optimizing. You should try it."
"I did," she said, holding up a crumpled folder held together by a paper clip and hope. "Didn't take."
Before Ethan could respond, a sudden thud reverberated through the hallway as Cher Horowitz dramatically dropped her oversized tote bag onto the floor next to them.
"Does anyone actually expect us to carry five textbooks and emotional baggage before 8 a.m.?" she asked, flipping her sunglasses up. "Hi, darlings."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Cher, that bag could be classified as a second locker."
"It's not just a bag," she said, pulling out a mini fan, a glittery pen, and what looked suspiciously like a laminated schedule of her hair appointments. "It's survival."
"Speaking of survival," Maya added, "Where are the boys?"
Right on cue, Shawn and Gus came into view from the opposite side of the hallway. Shawn, now sporting a wildly patterned jacket and a new badge sticker that read "Hallway Detective," was bouncing a rubber ball against the lockers.
Gus followed behind, holding a coffee and wearing a look that screamed it's too early for this. "Shawn, please don't bounce things indoors. We've been over this."
"It's called first-day flair, Gus. We need to establish our brand early."
"Our what?"
"Our brand, Gus. Every great duo has one. Sherlock and Watson. Mulder and Scully. Me and you. Also, the ball's name is Bouncey now. He's part of the team."
Cher rolled her eyes. "Is this what we're doing this year? Talking objects?"
"I think it's growth," Maya said. "Last year, it was pineapples."
"Hey, Bouncey has depth," Shawn replied. "Unlike pineapples, which have, like, a shallow but spiky metaphor."
Ethan smiled to himself as the group drifted toward homeroom. It was like slipping into a well-worn rhythm, but with tighter harmonies. Over the summer, they'd all changed. Maya had become more grounded — or maybe just better at hiding the chaos under her calm. Cher had weirdly mellowed, though she still carried lip gloss like it was armor. Gus now had a spreadsheet for literally everything, and Shawn… well, Shawn was still Shawn. But somehow, they all clicked more than ever.
And Ethan? He wasn't the same either.
"By the way," Maya said, catching up to walk beside him. "I told my mom about the thing at Mitchell and Cam's last week."
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. I still can't believe that whole reveal happened in front of everyone. Cam holding up the baby like she was Simba?"
"Iconic," Maya said, grinning. "Your face, though. I swear, you were half horrified, half fascinated."
"I was trying to blend in with the curtains."
"You were sitting in a white shirt against a dark wall."
"Exactly."
They both laughed.
Ethan's thoughts drifted back to that night — the way Cam had cranked up The Lion King music, the stunned silence in the room, the tidal wave of reactions. It had been chaos, as usual, but somewhere in the middle of it, Ethan had caught Claire's face — proud, emotional, a little overwhelmed. And for a second, he'd felt something settle in his chest.
Family. Messy, unpredictable, deeply loyal family.
And now… here they were. The second year of high school. With new teachers, new challenges, and the same band of misfits by his side.
Lunchtime arrived like a relief valve.
They'd claimed their usual table — the one by the art room windows that somehow always caught the best sunlight. Gus had brought cucumber sandwiches. Cher was nibbling on something she described as "nutritionally questionable but aesthetically on point." Shawn had three pudding cups and no regrets.
Ethan pulled out his journal and started sketching a few notes in the margin of his planner.
"New music?" Maya asked.
"Maybe," Ethan said. "Something softer. Less dramatic than Pompeii."
"Hard to top a performance that made a grown man sob into a tissue shaped like a swan," Cher said.
"Phil has a lot of emotions," Ethan muttered.
"He also tried to get that performance licensed for a commercial," Maya added.
"Wait, what?" Gus blinked.
"He said, 'Imagine selling real estate with that kind of emotional resonance!'" Ethan recited in his dad's voice, earning a round of laughter.
Shawn leaned in. "So... when's the next show? I heard the drama club is scouting talent."
"I heard they're doing a murder mystery play," Cher said. "You'd be great in that. Brooding pianist with a secret past?"
"I already live that," Ethan replied dryly.
Gus looked up from his sandwich. "You know, it wouldn't be the worst idea. You have stage presence now."
Ethan blinked. "I do?"
"You've got confidence. And mystery. And also a great vest collection," Maya added.
"I have two vests."
"Yeah, but you rotate them dramatically. That's called branding."
"Now you sound like Shawn."
"Don't insult her," Shawn said, pointing with a spoon.
As the bell rang and they got up to head to their next class, Ethan felt it again — that subtle warmth of being part of something. Not the loudest. Not the wildest. But there. Woven in.
As they filed into English class, Maya nudged him. "You okay?"
He nodded. "Just thinking."
"About?"
Ethan looked around at his friends — Gus and his charts, Cher with her color-coded highlighters, Shawn miming a sword fight with an invisible enemy, and Maya, steady and close beside him.
"About how weird it is to finally feel like I belong."
Maya smiled, the kind of smile that didn't need words.