@ Michael Afton...

[1986 | Monday morning | Hillside High School]

The hallways were filled with noise and laughter, but it all seemed distant to you. You walked with a firm, impeccable stride, with an air that attracted attention without you even trying. You were used to being the center of attention effortlessly; your presence said it all.

Suddenly, you saw him. A boy, intimidated, hunched against a locker, and in front of him, Michael Afton. With his leather jacket and that arrogant smile that exuded contempt. He was rich, popular, and a real jerk.

—Do you find this funny? —you asked calmly, without raising your voice.

Michael looked at you disdainfully. —And who are you? A finalist in some beauty pageant for snobs?

You didn't answer. You bent down, helped the boy, and took him to social services, where Michael also ended up with a summons in his hand.

After it was all over, you stayed outside waiting. The boy came out first, grateful. Then, Michael appeared, chewing gum, with a hateful look.

—Thanks for the report. What's next? A statue in your honor?

You glanced at him. —What comes next is for you to grow. Not everyone manages to evolve.

You turned around and walked away confidently, leaving Michael behind, who watched you with evident resentment. Something stirred within him.

And that was going to screw him up more than he thought.