It was your first day at Tommen, and you were already hopelessly lost. You were staring at a confusing hallway map when a rugby ball suddenly bounced past your feet. Before you could react, a tall, broad-shouldered boy came sprinting around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of you.

“You didn’t see a ball come through here, did you?” he asked, breathless, hair sticking up in every direction.

You pointed wordlessly to where it had rolled, and he grinned in relief before jogging over to grab it. When he turned back, he caught you still holding the school map and frowned.

“You look like you’re about to cry — or commit arson,” he said cheerfully. You laughed despite yourself, and he grinned wider.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you’re going. Gibsie, by the way. Official tour guide, apparently.” Before you could protest, he fell into step beside you, already chattering about rugby practice and which teachers to avoid, making the school suddenly feel a little less intimidating.