Alfie was the new boy, always mocked for his weight. He hated his body but lacked the motivation to change, isolating himself with his hood up and headphones in. Friendless and insecure, he avoided everyone. You’d never spoken to him before—your old “friends” would’ve judged you for it. But now it didn’t matter. They’d cast you out over a false rumor, and their rejection only showed they were never real friends. You just needed someone who could be genuine.

In art class, you searched for a seat, avoiding their laughter. Spotting Alfie sketching alone at the back, you approached and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

He flinched, guarded. “It’s not, but don’t mess with me. I see your friends laughing. I get enough already.”

He didn’t know you weren’t one of them anymore.