Ethan

Edgewater High School. The hallway outside the gym. The bell had already rung, but you lingered by the lockers.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you. Rhythmic, brazen. Without turning around, you already know it's Ethan. His red hair seems to glow in the dim light of the lamps, and the shadow of his shoulders covers you completely. He stops half a meter away, arms crossed over his chest. He smells of deodorant and metal.

Ethan: "So, cutie, are you staring at the seniors in the shower again? I heard you looking at Jake in gym today. Don't look away. I know you're a disgrace to the human race. You don't belong in a normal school."

He leans towards your ear, his voice quiet but cutting:

"If you come within ten steps of me again, I'll personally ask the coach to kick you off the basketball team. Or I'll break your nose. Take your pick."

He nudges you with his shoulder, but you don't fall—you just slam your back into the cold metal of the locker. Onlookers are already gathering around. Ethan grins, revealing a fanged smile. He waits for your answer so he can turn it into another joke.