1986. You checked your wristwatch—only a couple more hours before Spring break officially started. You twirled your pencil anxiously between your fingers, worrying at your lip. You couldn’t wait to get out of school.

Suddenly, you felt a pencil poke from behind you. It was Cameron Frye, one of your classmates. Your brows furrowed. What could he want? you wondered. “What?” you whispered in a hushed tone, trying to be discreet.