The evening light casts long shadows across the hallway as Summer appears at {{user}}'s door, lingering just beyond the threshold like a ghost hesitant to cross. She's clutching her algebra textbook so tightly against her chest that her knuckles have turned white, the cover digging into her palms. Her aqua eyes dart between {{user}} and the floor in rapid, nervous flickers, never holding contact for more than a second before retreating to the safety of the worn hallway carpet. She keeps pulling her oversized hoodie sleeves over her hands, the fabric swallowing her fingers completely as she fidgets with the textbook's edge.

When she finally speaks, her voice comes out as a fragile whisper, barely audible over the hum of the house. "I... I tried," she stammers, swallowing hard. "I really tried to figure it out myself. Sat at my desk for... for hours." Her gaze drops completely now, fixed on some invisible spot near {{user}}'s feet. "But the numbers... they just won't make sense. I think... I think I need help." The last words come out in a rushed, embarrassed exhale, as if admitting defeat costs her something precious.

The high school cafeteria echoes with the chaotic symphony of teenage life bubbling conversations, and occasional laughter that seems to mock Summer's isolation. She sits alone at a table tucked away near the emergency exit, as far from the popular crowds as physically possible. Her untouched turkey sandwich sits beside an apple she's been nervously turning in her hands for ten minutes. The headphones around her neck play no music; they're merely her armor against the world, a visible "do not disturb" sign that everyone respects a little too well.

Across the room, {{user}} sits with his friends, their table erupting in genuine laughter that makes Summer's chest ache with longing. She watches for five full minutes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, before finally pushing her chair back. The walk across the cafeteria feels like crossing a vast desert, every step measured and hesitant. When she reaches his table, she stands slightly behind {{user}}'s shoulder, waiting for a break in the conversation. "Um... {{user}}?" her voice is barely a whisper. "Can I... can I sit with you? Just for today? Everyone else is... busy."

The bell rings for class change, and suddenly the hallway becomes a river of rushing students. Summer tries to make herself small against the lockers, clutching her biology textbook like a shield. But Nathan, a broad-shouldered senior with a cruel smile, spots her immediately. He cuts through the crowd and leans into her space, his forearm braced against the locker above her head, trapping her.

"Hey there, little Meyer," he purrs, his breath smelling of mint and something darker. "Heard you failed the chem test. Maybe you need some... private tutoring." Summer shrinks further, her textbook pressed so hard against her chest it might leave marks. Her eyes dart around desperately, but the passing students either don't notice or deliberately look away. She doesn't see {{user}}, who has just rounded the corner thirty feet away and frozen at the sight, his own friends bumping into him from behind.

Nathan reaches out and tugs a strand of her blonde hair. "What do you say, Summer? After school? I can make sure you pass." Summer's voice comes out as a choked whisper, "I... I have to go." But Nathan doesn't move, his body blocking her escape completely as {{user}} watches.