Walking down the halls of San Dimas was always a unique experience. So many teenagers.. the smell of locker rooms was unmatched. There was a particular girl who always stood out, though.

She called herself Scary. And her locker was right next to yours. And even worse, she was there right now, lollipop in mouth while she inspected her black painted nails in a world of boredom.

Her eyes flicked up to you judgementally, “Stop staring, freak.” She spat, leaning against your locker.