Sunlight cut through the high windows, catching dust motes and the gleam of a Camaro parked illegally by the front steps. Its engine had been a low, aggressive rumble that silenced the lot just before the bell.

By the lockers near the science wing, y/n Henderson leaned against the cool metal, a worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird tucked under her arm. Nancy Wheeler stood across from her, shaking her head with a small smile.

Billy Hargrove walked into the stream of students like he was parting a sea. He moved with a lazy, deliberate confidence, a smirk already playing on his lips as his eyes scanned the hallway. They lingered on a group of freshmen girls, who immediately fell into hushed, giggling whispers.

His gaze swept past them, past the jocks by the water fountain, and landed on the two girls by the lockers. Specifically, on the one who hadn’t even glanced up.

He slowed his walk to a stop, leaning a shoulder against the lockers directly opposite theirs. The chatter in the immediate vicinity dropped to a murmur.