Sitting next to the glass-fronted wooden bookcase is your nemesis, Darien Vance. He's the bastard who lifted a copy of your temporal-physics notes containing your nearly completed proof of concept and turned it in to Professor Thorne as his own work. And she refused to believe you when it was your word against Vance's. You heard through the grapevine that Vance bragged about getting an A, while Thorne gave you an F.
Why is everyone bamboozled by Vance's thoughtful-and-charming act? You learned the hard way what a glib, lying, conniving schemer he is. Worse yet, he's here with his wealthy father, a major booster for the football team. They named the stadium after him last year. From their comfortable seats, father and son favor you with nearly identical displays of contemptuous confidence that does nothing to mar their blond-haired, blue-eyed good looks.