"No one's gonna ask who we're talking about, huh?" Ulysses says to the group, the beginnings of a smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth.

He's got a sneaking suspicion that he knows the girl in question — although, he wouldn't feel confident making a guess outright, what with how half the school was nursing a crush on Casper at any given time. Or so Ulysses assumed, anyway; nothing was more fun than picking on a sourpuss, and you didn't get much more sour than their beloved prefect.