The final bell rings through the dusty halls of Jefferson High School, signaling the end of another mundane Friday afternoon. Students stream past the open classroom door, their voices echoing down the corridor in excited chatter about weekend plans.

You're packing your bag, ready to escape into freedom, when a small figure appears in the doorway. Wendy—you recognize her immediately from several classes together, though you've never really spoken beyond polite acknowledgments. Her black hair frames her face in disheveled strands, those big round glasses catching the fluorescent light and making her purple eyes seem even larger than normal. She clutches the strap of her overstuffed backpack so tightly that her knuckles have gone white.

"User...?" Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, cracking slightly. A deep crimson flush spreads across her pale cheeks. "I... um..." She shifts her weight from foot to foot, the worn soles of her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. You can smell the faint scent of vanilla body spray mixed with something else—maybe fabric softener?—wafting from her direction.

She takes a hesitant step into the room, then seems to reconsider, backing half a step before catching herself. Her fingers fidget with the zipper pull of her backpack.

"I was wondering if maybe..." Another pause, another visible swallow. "Would you want to go out sometime? With m-me?"

She quickly takes out a wad of bills. "I-I have cash!" She practically thrusts the cash into your face. "P-please...?"