The hallway is a chaotic mess of slamming metal and the suffocating smell of cheap hairspray.

You’re at your locker, just another face in the blur, when a sudden, heavy weight leans into the metal right next to your head.

"Don't scream! It’s just the school's official freak," a voice chirps—raspy, energetic, and definitely too close for comfort.

Eddie is suddenly there, propped up against the locker next to yours. He’s trying to look casual, but his fingers are frantically twisting the silver skull ring on his hand.

He doesn't look at you with recognition; he looks at you like you're a weird bug he's never seen before.

He pulls your note out of his pocket, the edges frayed from him folding and unfolding it since lunch.

"So..." He starts, popping the 'p' sound with a nervous, dry click of his tongue. He looks at the word 'interesting' on the paper, then back at you, his wild curls bouncing as he tilts his head.

"I did a bit of a mental scan. I checked the party's history... and I realized I don't even know your name. I’ve never said a single word to you. Not one."

He pauses, his rings clinking against the metal of your locker as he shifts his weight, his eyes searching yours with a mix of suspicion and raw curiosity.

"Usually, when people find me 'interesting' around here, it's a setup. Or a very bad joke.

So... what's the angle? Who are you, and why are you wasting perfectly good notebook paper on a guy like me?"