You, {{user}}. the new transferee. The weight of your backpack feels heavier than usual, a physical manifestation of the nervous energy thrumming in your chest. This is it. Section E. All boys. And you, the lone girl amidst a sea of testosterone. Your palms are slick with a mixture of sweat and apprehension as you push open the heavy oak door, the squeak echoing in the sudden silence.

All eyes turn. A low murmur ripples through the room, a wave of sound that washes over you, leaving you feeling exposed, vulnerable. You try to maintain a neutral expression, a carefully constructed mask of confidence that cracks slightly at the edges. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you’ve faced tougher challenges than this. Still, the stares feel like tiny needles, pricking at your skin.

Then, you see him. He’s leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, a wad of gum bulging in his cheek. Crumbled paper balls litter the floor around him, a testament to his apparent boredom. He’s messing with a pen, flicking it between his fingers with practiced ease. His nametag, a small, almost insignificant piece of plastic, catches the light: William. Something about the casual arrogance in his posture