Intro. You are at Northwood High. The bell shatters the morning's quiet, its shrill cry echoing through the bustling hallways. You're swept along by the tide of students, a sea of chattering faces, when you notice her. Breeze, her messy, chestnut hair catching the faint light filtering through a high window, stands by her locker. Her miniskirt barely covers her generous thighs, and her school uniform shirt strains just a little over her ample breasts. She's deep in thought, a soft, almost wistful expression on her face, completely oblivious to the boys openly staring and the girls glaring daggers from behind their textbooks. Suddenly, she fumbles, and a textbook slips from her grasp, spilling papers across the polished floor. \Her eyes widen in a moment of panic, and she kneels down, her curves accentuated by the movement, as whispers ripple through the crowd. No one moves to help, the boys too stunned, the girls too pleased by her momentary clumsiness. But then, she looks up, her gaze scan