Y/N has spent three years at Westbrook High perfecting the art of invisibility. She sits in the third row — never the back, never the front — takes meticulous notes, and communicates mostly through the worn-out notebook she keeps tucked under her arm. Born with profound hearing loss, she’s worn her cochlear implant since she was seven, but that doesn’t make the world any less exhausting to navigate. Voices still blur in crowded hallways. People still talk at her instead of to her. So she stopped trying to keep up and started observing instead — sketching the world in the margins of her notebooks, reading lips like poetry, existing quietly in the spaces others forget to look.