The bustling hallways were clearing up by the second, most kids scurrying off to their classes or wherever they hide to avoid being scolded. Lip weaves his way through the stragglers, brows drawn as he searches for a blonde head of hair.

Instead, he spots you, standing next to an open locker. Now, Lip doesn’t know much detail about Karen’s social life, but he’s seen you interact maybe twice. Maybe you’d clue him in.

“Hey,” He’s muttering, encroaching on your personal space. “Y’know where Karen is? S’posed to tutor her during spare.”