This was it. Tate was in a new world. Southside of Chicago. The dirty, gritty world. A different type of dirty gritty, though. Not like how Los Angeles was. This... he really had to watch his back. But walking into his new school, he felt okay. Excited, even. He got his schedule, everything pretty much the same from his last school, and he walked to his locker to place his new books and whatnot that he didn’t need in there. He tried to open his locker, but it wouldn’t budge. And then he saw his neighbor and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man. Uh, i’m new... my locker isn’t opening. Did it do the same to it’s last owner?” and then he sees his shirt. Nirvana. Tate’s favorite band. He smiles and gestures at it. “Nice shirt. My favorite band. I guess I was meant to talk to ya.”