Do you ever get those moments when it seems like the entire world is conspiring against you? When everything you do, every decision you make, is met with resistance and opposition? It's a feeling that can be suffocating, like trying to breathe in a room filled with thick, heavy air. If you've never experienced it, count yourself lucky. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for myself.

My name is Connor Drails, and I'm just an ordinary kid, not particularly popular or unpopular, not a nerd, but not exactly the life of the party either. I'm what you might call an introvert, someone who values solitude and finds solace in the quiet moments of life.

I'm not anti-social, but I do have a complicated relationship with people. The presence of others can be overwhelming, a constant reminder of my own awkwardness. It's not that I enjoy being alone, it's just that sometimes it feels safer, simpler even.

But that's not to say I don't have friends. I do, and one of them is Greg Jimmons. Greg is the kind of guy who can turn even the most mundane moments into an adventure. He's a skinny kid with a penchant for blue jeans and gray Levi shoes that never seem to quite match the rest of his outfit. He probably buys them at the local retail store, but that's just Greg – effortlessly cool in his own way. He has tanned skin, almost a tan-orange hue, and his brown hair is always slightly disheveled, as if he just stepped out of a windstorm.

Today was a day I'd been dreading for weeks – prom day. The mere mention of prom had become a constant irritant, a relentless reminder of the impending event. It had taken over Wolfpack School like a virus, infecting everyone with its contagious enthusiasm. People would approach me, as if I held the key to their prom destiny, and ask, "Do you have a date for prom?"

Let me give you a glimpse into my life. I'm a sophomore, so I've been at this school for about a year now. We moved from Utah to California because my dad got a new job as a cameraman in Hollywood. We could probably afford a nicer house, but my dad was always cautious about money, constantly fretting about bills and expenses. I tried not to dwell on those adult concerns.

I joined this school at the beginning of the year, and I was grateful to have even one friend. However, my happiness was tarnished by the presence of a bully. I suppose it's a rite of passage in high school – getting bullied. It never happened to me in elementary school, but Kirk Jexifan made up for it. He had a knack for stealing my lunch and turning it into a mushy mess. Most days, I went hungry, but luckily, Greg had been my savior, supplying me with what I liked to call "emergency meals."

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I guess they weren't much of an emergency if they happened all the time.

The hallways of Wolfpack School resembled a stampede as students rushed to their lockers. It was chaotic, cramped, and almost impossible to navigate. Voices echoed through the halls, blending into an incomprehensible cacophony.

I finally reached my locker, number 426, and took a deep breath as I opened it. Thankfully, my books were still there, and I sighed with relief. Sometimes, certain people knew the combinations to lockers, like Kirk, and they'd play pranks by stealing books or belongings. It was their idea of fun.

As I gathered my books for Science, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was a familiar, rhythmic tap that I recognized immediately.

"Hey, Greg, what's up?" I greeted, turning to face my friend.

Greg was wearing a purple shirt, his usual blue jeans with white streaks, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes that promised trouble.

"Have you found anyone to go to prom with yet?" he asked, and my mood took a nosedive. I sighed, casting a disgruntled look his way, which didn't seem to faze him at all.

"No," I replied bluntly.

Greg looked momentarily taken aback, but his surprise was short-lived, lasting only a few seconds.

"Why not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a cross look, my eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"Because I couldn't care less about prom," I muttered, my voice filled with annoyance. "I couldn't care less about who's going with whom. I don't even care if someone decides to take a two-tailed rat as their date," I hissed, my irritation pouring out.

"You do know your mom is going to make you go, right?" Greg pointed out, crossing his arms as if he had just won a significant argument.

"I'll survive being alone at prom," I retorted, letting out a heavy sigh. "It's not like I care anyway. We can always come back home, play video games, and pretend I didn't waste my time on something utterly pointless."

I slammed my locker shut, and suddenly the noise of the hallway seemed to fade away. It was almost eerily quiet, and a strange tension filled the air. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and for a moment, I didn't want to turn around.

But I had to.

My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly pivoted, and my eyes widened in terror. Kirk Jexifan, standing at a towering six-foot-seven, loomed over me like a menacing giant. He was a bully who had tormented me for far too long, and I had finally had enough.

"Hello, Conny-Corn," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Kirk took a step closer, each footfall echoing like a drumbeat of impending doom. I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot, unable to move or escape. It felt like my brain had accepted this moment as the end, the conclusion of my story, and all that was left was for Kirk's fist to bring down the final curtain.

But then, something unexpected happened. In the last possible second, an invisible surge of energy coursed through me, jolting my hand into a fist. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately hoping to wake up in my own bed, drenched in sweat from a terrible nightmare. But when I felt the unmistakable impact of my fist connecting with Kirk's face, and the searing pain radiating from his cheek into my hand, I knew this was all too real.

I didn't dare open my eyes.