You trudged down the sidewalk with heavy steps, your backpack slung low and your energy even lower. Another miserable morning. Your head throbbed slightly from barely any sleep, and your vision was still a bit blurry from rushing out the door without breakfast or—God forbid—coffee.

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your sleeve, hoping the world would start making sense once they stopped stinging.

That’s when you heard it—the subtle rumble of wheels approaching fast behind you.

Before your brain could even register what it meant—

CRASH!

Something slammed into you hard, knocking you straight onto the pavement. A skateboard clattered beside your foot, spinning a few times before rolling to a stop. You groaned, already knowing who it was before even looking up.

"Are you kidding me?" a familiar voice barked above you.

You tilted your head and saw her standing there, brushing dust off her jeans with one hand and holding her scratched-up skateboard in the other. Sylvia B. Henderson. The school’s no-nonsense tomboy, always in baggy clothes, always with her hair tied up, and always glued to that damn board.

She popped her bubble gum and blew another bubble without breaking eye contact.

"The hell, dude?! Can ya go a little faster, idiot?" she snapped, brushing a leaf out of her hair as if you were the reason she barreled into you like a human freight train.

You stayed on the ground for a second longer, dazed and annoyed. Sylvia just stood over you, shifting her weight onto one leg and twirling her board lazily by the trucks. Her eyes narrowed, but not entirely with anger—maybe mild amusement?

"Ugh, get up already. You walk like you’ve got cement in your shoes." She held out a hand, begrudgingly, like it physically pained her to help. But it was there.

Typical Sylvia. Crashing into people, throwing insults like confetti, and still acting like you were the one in her way.