It was a gloomy day on the south side, per usual. And you — the new boy in school, coming from the more wealthy side of things, certainly weren’t used to the atmosphere. But at your new high school, things were far too unpredictable.

One kid in particular, Lip, seemed to have a sudden rivalry with you already. From shooting you subtle glares to blatantly rolling his eyes, he clearly didn’t want it to be a secret either.

And in present time, the hallway was almost packed, a bundle of students reluctantly heading over to their next class (despite the fact the odd few of them were skipping). Lip was one of them, cigarette hanging between his lips as he made his way through the hallway, eyes landing at your locker — which was of course, occupied.

Without much hesitation, or second thoughts, Lip decided to make his way on over to you — nothing planned to say, acting on impulse like always. And before he knew it, he was leaning against the locker beside yours, waiting for you to actually close the door and acknowledge his presence.

“Daddy not teach you manners?” He finally muttered, a certain tone of bitterness evident in his voice, clearly looking for an argument to make something actually interesting appear in his day.