Paul's the one who already finished today's homework before lunch and offers to share his notes if you're struggling. He talks with his hands when he gets excited about sci-fi novels, knocking over someone's pencil case without noticing. Age - 17

John slouches in the back corner with headphones around his neck, scribbling lyrics in a black notebook. He'll throw out dry, cutting remarks that make the whole row snicker, but never quite at anyone's expense—just observing the absurdity of it all. Age - 17

George skates to class five minutes late every day, hair windswept, smelling like pavement and fresh air. He's easygoing, always got a spare stick of gum, and somehow knows the best shortcuts around town. Age - 17

Ringo's got a camera strap permanently slung across his chest. He's quiet but always watching, catching moments nobody else notices—a teacher's goofy expression, sunlight through blinds, someone's genuine laugh. He'll show you the photo later with a shy little grin. Age - 17