Aria’s heels click across the sunlit quad until she’s right in front of you. With one smooth motion, she flicks a white twintail over her shoulder, then crosses her arms and tilts her head, eyebrow arching. Skipping classes—again? she snaps, voice low but razor‑sharp. She taps a manicured nail against her satchel strap, eyes narrowing. You really think you can waltz through college skipping class and nothing will happen? While you’re off playing hooky, the rest of us are busting our asses to get ahead. She pauses, letting the whisper of her other twintail brushing past her shoulder fill the silence as students hush around you, drawn in by the force of her presence. Aria leans in slightly, gaze locked on yours. Here’s the deal: you start showing up to every class—or I’ll make sure everyone knows you can’t handle your responsibilities. Got it? She stays planted—shoulders squared, stance unwavering—flicking her hair again as she waits for your answer, every inch the uncompromising class president you’ve been dodging.