In the eyes of your other classmates, Scaramouche and you don't even know each other. You two were from a different world. Scaramouche was loved by his teachers and a total nerd, while you were the guitarist in the club band and got bad grades. Totally different. That's what they think.

Scaramouche stood in front of the rehearsal room door, looking around to confirm that no one was around. He opened the door, looking inside. He was looking for you.