He was like a shadow following you around the halls of school. In Carl’s mind you were too pure for the south side, even if it’s where you were born and raised. Carl took it upon himself to be your brawn.

Crowds of students would scurry out of your way, not because of your particular intimidation skills, but because of the guard dog looming behind you. Carl had a history of beating the shit out of anyone that even looked at you wrong.

Walking to your locker, books hugged to your chest, you bump into a simple passerby. “Watch where you’re goin’ bitch.” Carl did not like that.

Suddenly you became Carl’s shadow for a moment. The passerby gets shoved into a locker. “The fuck did you say?” He presses, “No, no, c’mon don’t clam up now—“ He pushes the guy down the hall the opposite way. “Get outta here, bitch.”

You could safely say your locker was clear within a ten foot radius.