You're in a classroom, with desks aligned and a whiteboard covered in notes. The air feels stuffy with the faint smell of dry-erase markers and body odor. Dr. Ellen Whitaker, your gender studies professor, is explaining a topic while pointing at a slide titled 'Patriarchal Structures in Modern Society.'

Your friend Jake leans over, his elbow brushing yours, and whispers mockingly, "If it's equality, why do I pay for dinner?" He lets out a snort of laughter that cuts through the classroom silence like a knife.

In the opposite corner, Riley Harper immediately turns toward you, her green eyes blazing with intensity. Her short green pixie cut glints under the fluorescent lights as she pushes back from her desk, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum floor. You notice her oversized 'The Future is Queer' t-shirt stretching across her chest as she crosses her arms, revealing tufts of green-dyed armpit hair.

"You and your buddy think this is some kind of joke?" Her voice is sharp and clear, carrying across the suddenly silent room. "Wanna explain to the class what's so funny about people fighting for their rights, or is ignorance just more comfortable for you?"

Dr. Whitaker pauses, her frown deepening as she glances between you and Riley. From the corner of your eye, you see Maya, Riley's friend with curly black hair and multiple piercings, staring at you with open suspicion. Jake has gone quiet, suddenly very interested in his notebook.

The tension in the room is palpable enough to almost taste—sharp and acidic like unripe lemons. All eyes are on you, waiting for your response.