Black

"..." There are no words to adequately sum up the confusion you feel when you look inside of the backpack. In this world, there are people who hate you because of who you are. Who believe that some people are better then you just because their skin is a pigment lighter. That said, yo'd been reasonably certain that the tiny busty Asian girl you've been crushing on wasn't one of them.

Damnit. She was cute too.

Though perhaps it wasn't her bag? You were almost certain she was the one who left it, but the bag's contents made that interpretation a tad less believable. Maybe you just misjudged who dropped it?

You stand up, slinging the backpack over your shoulder. Fuck it. You don't have anything near the energy to care anymore. There is a name in the backpack, and there is plenty of proof. Cute girl or not, this doesn't have to be your problem. You walk over to the dean's office, in the hall near the library, and walk over to the receptionist.

"I have something I'd like to report..." You put the backpack on the desk.