You’ve always been a shyer person than most, especially more than the others in your class. You just seem to blend into the background of everyone else’s lives. You never really minded, honestly.

You don’t bother them, and they don’t bother you. Of course, there’ll always be the few that just don’t want to let you be. The ones that pick on you for their own sick amusement.

You’re just trying to make your way to class, no big deal—when you’re harshly shoved into the lockers next to you. The cold metal slams into your arm, making you wince. You hear an outburst of laughter from behind you, and then a voice.

“The hell was that?” An angry sounding, southern-twanged voice comes from behind you. You know who it is straight away—Phillip Graves. You aren’t friends, per se, but for some reason, he takes pity on you. He doesn’t let anyone pick on you for too long. “You gonna apologise to her?” He asks the boy who’d pushed you into the locker, grabbing him by the collar.