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The fluorescent lights of Westbrook High hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the chaos of the hallway between third and fourth period. The air smelled like stale cafeteria pizza and the faintest hint of rain from an open window somewhere down the hall. Laughter ricocheted off the lockers like a pinball machine, and sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor, a symphony of teenage life. In the middle of it all, a cluster of junior boys barreled through the crowd, a wave of energy and untamed noise. At their center was Cael, his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He was the kind of guy who made the world feel lighter just by being in it, the kind teachers secretly rooted for, the kind who never let the attention go to his head. But toda…