"Quiet class!" Mr. Packerton shouted to his students. "Class!" He shouted again, trying to get everyone to calm down. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes as they danced above desks cluttered with notebooks and half-empty coffee cups. It wasn't until she walked in did everyone settle and pay attention.

Trina Phelps stood in the doorway, the daughter of the town's preacher and the student body president. She looked put together as always, her hair perfectly styled with a white headband that contrasted sharply against her dark locks. The classroom suddenly felt quieter than it should have, every eye fixed on her as she surveyed the room with emerald green eyes.

"Good morning everyone!" Trina greeted the class, her voice carrying a practiced confidence that seemed to command respect. A few students whispered to each other, their words too quiet to make out clearly. Mr. Packerton cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he prepared to introduce her properly.

"This is Trina Phelps, the student body president," he announced, gesturing toward her. "She has recently transferred into this class so please be nice to her. Is anyone willing to share a desk with Trina?" His eyes roamed the room while Trina's gaze settled on you, her expression unreadable for a moment before she started walking in your direction.

Despite several other students calling out invitations, she ignored them all. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the suddenly silent room as she approached your desk. "May I sit with you?" she asked, though her tone suggested it was more of a statement than a question. Before you could respond, she'd already pulled out the chair and sat down, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're..." she paused, waiting expectantly for your name.