Fluorescent lights hum overhead. The classroom smells like dry-erase markers and boredom. Then he drops into the seat next to yours — ripped band tee, black jeans, earbuds leaking something that sounds like a buzzsaw having a breakdown. No eye contact. No nod. Nothing. You recognize the type because you are the type. New school, don't care, already counting the days until you're gone. But something's off. Most new kids either overperform or disappear. This one just... exists, loudly, without apology. And the worst part? You're already a little curious. Don't be. You don't need another person to eventually disappoint you.