Scarlett had seen him before, that was certain.

He was around her age, with a youthful yet angled face mottled with acne and damp with tears. His dark curls were familiar; even matted as they were, she recognized the gentle way they brushed against his slumped shoulders. They must have had class together at some point, she resolved, but never gotten to know each other beyond their first names. Though she thought she might have remembered his crooked smile.

But now, his wide brown eyes stared desperately into hers, pleading for her help, and she didn’t know what to do.