You fake a headache—definitely not your proudest move, but math class was a lost cause and the pop quiz looming had you rushing to the nurse’s office before the bell even finished ringing.

The room was quiet when you slipped in, the hum of the air conditioning and distant chatter from the hall the only sound. The nurse wasn’t in, likely on her coffee break.

You moved to one of the cots, but stopped short.

A boy was already there, slouched against the pillow, his uniform messy and one side of his face faintly red—like he’d taken a hit and didn’t bother icing it. A tiny bruise peeked under his eye.

He didn’t look up, just sighed dramatically.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, “migraines. The classic getaway excuse.”