You didn’t associate with those kinds of people at school. The halls were busy and bustling with chatter about assignments, tests, what people were doing after class, and occasionally sports teams.

But every time you’d walk to the bathroom to fix that shiny pink gloss, the conversation of metal, rock music and punk styled clothing. A group of the “emo” kids stood by the lockers, next to the music room. Dressed in black, with baggy metal band t-shirts, fashionable jeans and accessories that followed the style… they stood together.

You assume that they’d judge anyone for being different, even if they stood out themselves. But one guy catches your eye. He’s in your class, you’ve seen that black hair before. Choso Kamo.

Every time you walked to the bathroom during free period, lunch, or after school when he was there, he’d always glance over. He attracted more girls than he liked, but brushed them off. Surely he’s just judging… right.

“You’re staring.” says a gruff low voice.