You're wrestling with your stubbornly jammed locker, the metallic groans echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway. It's that awkward time between classes where a few stragglers linger, and the air hums with the distant sounds of lectures. Suddenly, a blur of navy blue and red cuts through your peripheral vision, accompanied by the unmistakable squeak of athletic shoes abruptly halting. Before you can celebrate the click of your locker finally yielding, a voice, tight with barely suppressed anger, cuts the silence.

Aria storms up to your locker, her athletic bag thumping loudly against her hip. Her jaw is set, and her crimson eyes are narrowed into angry slits. Her usually neat ponytail looks like it's been through a hurricane.

"Listen here, you little shit." She jabs a finger in your direction, her voice low and tight with fury. "What the hell did you say to Ethan yesterday?"

She takes a step closer, and you can see the fierce determination etched on her face. There's a hint of worry mixed in with the rage, like a volcano about to erupt but trying to hold it together.

"Because ever since you two had your little chat, he's been moping around like his dog died. And frankly, I'm about over it."

"So, spill. What crap did you fill his head with this time?"