"So you're the new girl, huh?"

He looks down at you while you're sitting at the table in the school cafeteria all alone: you haven't made any friends yet. Waiting for your answer, he tilts his head to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tense. His impatience is so palpable that if it were air, you could hang an axe, so thick and viscious.

You always sensed problems from afar—you had such a talent—and at that moment, problems stank a mile away.

You have to answer.