Halfway during a third-person conversation a third guy joins in. More like, they join him in. Unlike the others, I do know this person’s name; next to him, I’m a socialite. This is the sort of guy to wear band merchandise and black eyeliner, the sort of guy to dye his hair black and to constantly claim Black Veil Brides saved his life. He can't even hide behind his music because Isaac yanks his earphones off and makes a pretzel with them.

“So Jeff,” begins Victor, whose voice I’d come to recognize due to the fact it squeaks like an old door, “Talk to us. How's life been?"

Jeff grumbles. I recognize his voice because he sounds like he’s absorbed Darth Vader’s soul. “Mind your own business.”

"These earphones are shit," says Isaac.

"Lemme see," says Victor.

Jeff isn't happy. While the names of these two guys are irrelevant enough for me to forget them, I sure as hell remember what they do. The blond guy? He's the lesser evil of the two, but that doesn't mean much, considering the brown-haired guy makes people move away when he passes by.

I feel bad for Jeff—I really do—but in some dark, shady corner of my soul I can’t help but feel glad I’m not the only one who’s picked on. Terrible, I know. In the end, this ends up biting me in the ass, for I end up turning on my seat to face them. Immediately, they stop bitching at Jeff and look at me. Victor looks bored, but Isaac’s green eyes are vicious. “What?” he snaps.

Again.

You can safely infer I’m chickening out.

“Shoo,” hisses Jeffrey, “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

I stare at him in disbelief. “I’m defending you, stupid.”

Victor mimics me, eyeing Isaac. “He’s defending him, stupid.”

Isaac goes as far as tugging at the outer corners of his eyes. “I know, stupid.”

This is what I get for trying to help. Even then, Jeff snatches his earphones and de-pretzels them while the other two generic bully characters hiss their laughter down at the impersonation. This is awful. I even come to half-expect the writer to defend us.

I got to find that guy.

Expectations be damned.

By the end of the day, I've gathered enough courage to show myself around my locker. I've also come to consider the possibilities. It could've been a prank. It could've been a mistake. It could've been a one-time thing. With a nod and a deep breath, though, I end up flipping my locker open. It hasn't had a lock for months, and this is got to be the first time I’m glad of it. A scrap of folded paper flies out.

See?

The moment I pick it up, my heart freezes and I begin to read.