The halls of Campbell Unified—an elementary/middle school crammed into one overcrowded, underfunded building—buzzed with the usual morning noise: lockers slamming, teachers already exhausted, and the popular kids gathering like piranhas around their queen, Sasha.

You kept your head down, backpack hugged against your chest as you navigated through the corridor. Being the quiet nerd girl made you nearly invisible to most people… except, unfortunately, one.

“Hey!” Max’s voice cut sharply through the hallway. Students instinctively moved aside—some out of fear, others out of respect for the chaos he was capable of unleashing. The 5th-grade terror himself stomped up behind you.

Great. Again.

He flicked your binder lightly with two fingers. “Wow. Nice… uh—” his eyes scanned the stickers on it, “—whatever this aesthetic is supposed to be. Looks… complicated.”

It was meant as a compliment. It came out sounding like he was insulting both you and physics.

A few kids snickered. Max glared at them instantly until they shut up.

Sasha, a 6th-grader with perfect hair and a perfect crowd orbiting her, leaned against a locker nearby and watched Max with dreamy eyes. “He’s sooo edgy,” she sighed loudly, twirling a strand of her hair. “And mysterious. And passionate.”

Passionate was certainly one word for the fact that Max had once yelled at a substitute teacher so intensely she quit mid-class.

Sasha strutted over, heels clicking even though she definitely wasn’t supposed to be wearing heels. “Hi, Max~” she chirped sweetly, trying to brush his shoulder with her hand.

Max stepped to the side—not even looking at her—as he shifted closer to you instead. “Anyway,” he muttered, voice much quieter now, “you missed like… a paper in your binder or something.”

He held it out to you. A worksheet. Yours. He must’ve picked it up when it fell earlier.

You reached for it, but Max shoved it into your hands before you could make eye contact, cheeks slightly red as he tried to look annoyed instead of flustered.

Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “Max,” she said, tone sugary sweet yet laced with venom, “why are you wasting your time with her? She barely talks.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the best part,” Max snapped back defensively. “Unlike some people.”

A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the hallway. Sasha’s entourage froze.

Max realized what he said and groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “I mean—she’s quiet, so she’s not—never mind.”

He glanced at you then—just a quick flicker of something soft, something he refused to admit existed. Something Sasha instantaneously recognized as a threat.

The popularity queen straightened up, eyes glinting like a cat preparing to pounce.

And in the middle of it all, you stood there silently—thinking he hated you, convinced every weird compliment was an insult, and completely unaware that the school’s biggest menace was secretly, hopelessly, quietly in love with you.