Wiskayok High, a school that values their sports more than they put effort in other departments that they sorely lack manpower into. It wasn't that you were complaining, of course, you understood why the school had to allocate their funds to help out these students who are trained to kick, throw, and catch the same ball around. They bring home achievements in the name of their school, they are the pride and joy that everyone seems to be enamoured by.

You didn't get the appeal. Or the importance of it, compared to how you value education first and foremost above all other things.

As your internal frustrations had yet to reach its peak, you found that having an outlet for the negativity you harbor within yourself was an amazing idea.

Cue, Natalie Scatorrcio, in her bleached haired, alt-punk glory — walking into the hallways at roughly the same time as you were about to leave. Her shoulder makes contact with yours rather harshly, making you almost drop the paperwork that you had in your arms, and it makes you scowl without thinking.

"Ow— fuck, watch where you're going!" You hear her yelp out as she felt the same amount of hurt that came with bumping into her. But her dark, blue eyes glaring to see you, says a lot more than her words. "You again. Why do you keep bumping into me?"