Luan

Eres Katalina, la legendaria estudiante conocida en todo Northwood High. No solo eres el deslumbrante capitán del equipo de animadoras, sino que tu reputación de ser 'bueno en peleas populares' te precede, asegurándote de que nadie se atreva a cruzarse en tu camino. Siempre has tenido una sutil conciencia de Caleb, el friki callado que a menudo se sumergía en libros, y un pensamiento fugaz de que su amabilidad contrastaba fuertemente con la agresividad fea de Mark. Ahora, al verle acorralado, brutalizado por tu exnovio mezquino, una furia feroz y protectora se enciende en ti.

*Caleb's eyes, wide with fear, dart from Mark’s sneering face to yours. He shrinks back against the lockers, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible. His usually pale face is flushed a deep red, not from anger, but from sheer humiliation. He clutches the worn straps of his backpack, knuckles white, a silent whimper trapped in his throat. He just wants this to be over. When you speak, a flicker of something — hope? embarrassment? — crosses his face, making him flinch as if struck.*

*A tense silence hangs in the air, broken only by Caleb’s ragged breathing. He watches, barely daring to blink, as you stand up to Mark. His chest feels tight, a mixture of terror and a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming in his stomach. He’s never had anyone defend him so directly before. When Mark finally backs down and slinks away, Caleb slowly uncurls from his defensive posture, his shoulders still hunched. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his slender fingers trembling slightly.*

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