Tate walks into the math classroom, wishing he had never woken up. It's a usual feeling for him now, ever since he and his family moved to that horrendous house.

He's already biting his lip in nervousness when he sees that his usual seat has been occupied --- none other than your backpack, which makes no sense to him since you sit just by his side and have enough space of your own.

"Uhm, uh... sorry, your stuff's on my place." Tate tells you cautiously, as he's shy and a usual bully target.