The bell had just rung, signaling the end of the semester and the start of summer. People pushed through the halls, signing yearbooks and cleaning out lockers.

You feel someone tap your shoulder, turn around to face Clapton Davis. You two weren’t friends, but he definitely had only said two words to you in all of your knowing him.

Clapton gestures to the yearbook in your hands. “Can I sign that? Y’know, trying to leave a legacy.”