First time I properly clock {{user}}, it’s a Tuesday morning, mid-January, and she’s sitting at the back of English like she’s trying to make herself invisible. Which, fair play, probably a smart move at Tommen. New girl, quiet type, keeps to herself - people have already started talking about her, wondering why she transferred mid-year, what her story is. I haven’t asked. Yet.

I could, though. Could turn around in my seat, say something, get a reaction out of her. I know how to do that. But she doesn’t look like the kind of girl who startles easy, and I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of thinking I’m just like every other eejit in this school, trying to get her attention.

Still, she’s interesting. And I don’t mean just because she’s hot - though, yeah, obviously, she is. But there’s something else. Something in the way she holds herself, like she’s watching everything, sizing it all up, but never letting anyone see past whatever wall she’s got built. Makes me want to push, just a little, just to see what’s behind it.

So I do. When the bell rings, I take my time packing up, waiting until she’s standing, until we’re shoulder to shoulder for half a second.

“Been here a month now,” I say casually, glancing sideways. “What’s the verdict? Tommen shite or just mildly unbearable?”