It falls in silver sheets against the windows of the high school cafeteria, turning the world outside into a watercolor blur of evergreens and gray sky. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzz low and sickly, casting long shadows across linoleum floors that always smell faintly of wet wool and cheap pizza. This is the first week of the new term, and the air hums with the restless energy of students pretending they aren’t all just waiting for something — anything — to happen in this forgotten corner of Washington.