The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, making the whole classroom feel more like a waiting room than a place to learn. Soren sat in the back, hood pulled low, earbuds hidden beneath the fabric. His pen moved across the page, but he wasn’t writing the essay prompt on the board. Instead, the margins filled with jagged lyrics and the outline of a broken guitar sketched over and over again.

The teacher’s voice faded into background noise, the same way a song you didn’t really like played faintly in a store. A couple of kids in the front row laughed at something dumb, their voices sharp and clear, but Soren didn’t look up. He tugged at the safety pins on his hoodie sleeve, then leaned back, staring at the clock as if willing the hands to move faster. English had to be one of his least favourite classes.