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Adam Tate suffered from avoidant personality disorder at the young age of seventeen, despite most personality disorders not being diagnosed until adulthood. However, he was so severe that his psychiatrist decided to diagnose him at his current age. He longed for friends, and one day, someone came to him.

But that changed everything.

Adam was sitting on a stool in the art classroom during lunch. He was by himself, as per usual. He munched on an apple, eventually throwing the core into the garbage bin situated next to him.

He looked down at his gorgeous masterpiece. It was a drawing of Jesse Lacey from his favourite band, Brand New. A wide smile crept across his face. The first time he’d smiled in over a month. He felt satisfied, almost in bliss. ‘I like this,’ he said aloud. No ears picked up on his quiet statement. Obviously, though; there was nobody else in the classroom. Just him and his paintbrushes, dirtied apron, garbage bin, painting, and backpack.

He grabbed his backpack and put both straps over his shoulder. He spotted the hairdryer on the table, plugged it in and switched on the powerpoint. He grabbed it, turned it on, and sprayed the hot air at his painting.

It dried, and he made his way outside. The grass outside crunched underneath his feet from the frost. It was a winter’s day and it was so nice. He rarely felt the cold, so he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt.

Trying to avoid slipping onto his arse, he made his way towards the boys’ bathroom. Once inside, he felt even cooler. The coolness of it made him feel heavenly, and he made his way towards the sink. He switched it on, and washed the paint off of his hands with soap. Afterwards, he looked up at the mirror, and a boy whom he thought was hideous stared back at him: Brown hair that covered his ears; ears that stuck out like Dumbo the Elephant; a small amount of freckles that covered his nose; and green eyes. He was repulsed by what he saw. He looked away in disgust. What had he become? He used to be an adorable kid, he concurred when someone said so. No one had complimented him since … he couldn’t remember.

He was short for a seventeen-year-old boy, standing at 5’7. Well, maybe that wasn’t that short, but compared to the boys his age, that was short. A lot of them towered him, some reaching 6’1 and above.

He sighed, and left the bathroom for his next class. He stared at the tall tower in the middle of the campus and thought:

That sure is a big tower. I wonder if it’s unlocked.