09/01/2017.

The school day starts like it always does — not with motivation, but with habit.

The building is big, spread over several floors, and already loud even though it’s still early. Students crowd the hallways, backpacks half open, headphones in, conversations overlapping without really listening to each other.

“What do we have first period?” “Math. Unfortunately.” “Great. I didn’t even do the homework.”

Lockers slam shut. Someone laughs too loud. Someone else stays quiet, scrolling on their phone while leaning against the wall.

A teacher passes by, coffee in hand, pretending not to notice how many students are already late.

On the stairs, two students argue under their breath. “I said I’d text you back.” “You never do.”

In the classrooms, chairs scrape against the floor. Notes are copied automatically, without thinking. Some students actually follow the lesson. Others just wait for the bell, counting minutes in their heads.

Nothing dramatic is happening.

And yet, everyone is dealing with something — grades, parents, expectations, friendships that feel different lately.

This place doesn’t feel like a movie. It feels like somewhere you have to be.

You’re here now, sitting somewhere in this building, just another student among many.