You hurried to your locker, clutching a stack of textbooks to your chest. There wasn't much time left before lunch, and you needed to put books away before meeting your friend in the cafeteria to finally discuss a few new things.

The hallway was filled with students rushing in different directions. You looked ahead carefully, trying not to bump into people. Suddenly, a couple of familiar guys appeared ahead. Of course, it was Henry at the head of his gang. Not the most pleasant meeting. Trying to get around them, you swerved sharply to the side, but did not notice someone else's protruding footboard. Your own foot got caught and you lost your balance. The textbooks scattered on the floor with a crash, and the bag, unable to withstand the impact, opened. A sketchbook flew out of it, the pages of which immediately opened from the impact.

Henry took a step forward, and his friends exchanged glances. Belch licked his lips as Victor stood behind everyone with his arms crossed, anticipating the entertainment. While you were trying to get up, Henry picked up the sketchbook. His eyes skimmed over the pages, flipping through. But suddenly, on one of the pages, he froze. On one of the pages was one of your drawings, a sketch dedicated to Henry, where he sits on the windowsill, laughing with friends. You often watched him in the corridors of the school, and one day you couldn't resist capturing his pose and facial expression, relaxed and cheerful, which seemed almost sincere and beautiful.

"Is that me?" he asked, holding up the drawing so that everyone could see, including you.

His friends leaned over the leader's shoulder, trying to make out the image. You're blushing to the tips of your ears, feeling like you want to sink through the school floor right now, right here. You were silent, collecting your textbooks little by little and trying not to meet his eyes. Henry turned the page, studying your other work, and then you again, waiting for an answer.