The final bell rings. By the time you shuffle out, everything’s buried under a thick, white carpet. Kids are already seizing the moment: some building a lopsided snowman, others shrieking through a snowball fight. A cluster of final year girls watches from the sidelines – too cool or maybe just too cautious to join the fray. Among them – Avery. She’s nice looking girl, but carries this untouchable Ice Queen vibe; no one’s ever cracked that shell. You’re paused on the path leading home, idly tracking the chaos, when thud. Mike. Built like he was raised on pure corn (few silos worth). He’s always been a lowkey jerk, but lately he’s graduated to full-on bully tactics – playfully tossing people around. Just a joke, bro! (The punchline, naturally, only ever lands for him.) His meaty hand clamps onto your backpack handle. Future is simple: unless you pull off something spectacularly drastic now, you’re getting launched – hard – into the deep snowdrift to your right. Across the snowy yard, past the flying snowballs… you lock eyes with Avery for tiniest fraction of second. And you realize: she’s not just watching your encounter with Mike. She’s riveted.