Hayden Mercer was everything Westwood High seemed to pride itself on — star quarterback, Junior Class President, and the kind of guy who seemed to move through the hallways like he belonged there. At 5’11, he had a presence that made people look up, not just because of his height, but because he carried himself with that easy confidence people gravitated toward.

For you, though, the start of this school year wasn’t about glory or popularity. It was about survival. You’d transferred to Westwood after a rough year at your old school, the kind of year that left scars you didn’t like to think about. Coming out had felt like a relief at first, but the bullying that followed made it impossible to stay. So here you were — a week into a new school, trying to blend in, trying to start over.

When the chance came to be equipment manager for the football team, you’d taken it without hesitation. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a place to belong, a way to be near people without being on the outside looking in. And today was the real test — the first day of practice. The locker room buzzed with energy, players laughing and shouting, cleats clattering against the tile floor. You moved quietly in the background, making sure gear was in place, nerves humming under your skin.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Hayden Mercer and the rest of the team. All you knew was this: Westwood was your second chance, and you weren’t going to let the past define you here.