Anon helps a bro out

You open the case at your feet as your fellow band members filter into the music room; lift and examine your trusty trombone and find it in working order.
Band had been simply a way to get an art credit and have an excuse to goof off for a whole period when you first joined, but gradually you'd gotten into the spirit of it. You'd even made 4th chair in the performance group. Not a huge accomplishment, but you took some pride in your contribution.

"Hey, Anon?" a familiar voices says, bringing you out of your reflection. You turned to meet it.
"Hey, Bulk, what's up?"
Your old pal Bulk Biceps joined Band the same time you did. People often got the impression that he was tough and scary.
While he could get noisy when he got excited, he was really a big softy.
Unlike you, he'd taken a shine to it immediately. He practiced diligently, and even made first chair.
You were quite proud of him. Even in he looked ridiculous holding that tiny violin with his massive frame.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he said timidly while fidgeting with his fingers. The big guy had a lot of pride. He'd always get like this when he needed your help with something.
"Yeah, bud, what do you need to talk about?"

He looked at the ground for a few seconds before regaining eye contact.
"Well, it's about, uh..." he hesitated and continued to fidget. Probably needs help with English again, it was his worst subject.

"Girls." he finally said. You stare back blankly.
Oh.
"Oh." you monotone.
Shit.
You're worst subject.

Honestly, you were not the best one to go to for this kind of advice.
Fuck, you never even held a girl's hand. It wasn't like you couldn't talk to them, but you couldn't TALK to them.
"Uh, are we talking in general, or someone more specific?"
You were trying to stall while you tried to think of something.
"Er, well..." he swallowed nervously. Before he could say anything, though, the universe deemed to answer for him as both your attentions was drawn by the music room door squeaking to its full birth.
Bulk's gaze followed the new arrival, the look on his face telling you all you need to know.

Poised.
Sophisticated.
Beautiful.
Maybe a tad stuck up, depending whom you asked.
Jesus, Bulk, way to aim high.

Octavia carefully guides her cello case towards her seat. Even while hefting the cumbersome object, she managed to do so with an air of dignity.
Your attention returns to Bulk as he continues to watch her with dreamy eyes and a goofy smirk.

"I'll praise your taste, at least."
He shakes his head and looks at you bashfully.
"Uh, thanks I guess. So, can you help me?" he looks at you with pleading eyes.
The bell rings and the music teacher calls for everyone to be seated.
You sigh inwardly from relief. Saved by the bell.

"I'll talk to you at lunch, ok?"
Bulk nods quietly and quickly makes his ay to his spot.
Alright, now you just have to figure out what the fuck to tell him in the 2 periods left till lunch.
Including this one.

You may not be qualified, but your bro asked for help, and damn it, you were going to help him.
Octavia was a tough nut to crack, though. One of the school's darlings, right along with Rarity(Mmm, Rarity).
While she wasn't outright antisocial, she seemed to prefer keeping to herself.

On top of that, Jazz Brass, the smooth, good looking sax player tried asking her to the last Fall Formal.
She magnificently shot him down without an ounce of hesitation. If she hadn't been so gentle and polite about when she had done so, you'd have called it cruel.

You coast though the period, running through your options. Not that there were many to choose from.
The fact of the matter was you simply didn't know anything about Octavia. You can't recall an occasion where you said more than a simple 'Good morning' to her.

You needed more intel. Something to work off of.
Approaching her directly was out. Being as worked up over this as you were, you'd likely only succeed in making a fool out of yourself.

Then it hits you. Octavia may not be that sociable, but you do remember one person she talks to frequently.

Her name escapes you, but she's likely the easiest girl to pick out of a crowd in the whole school.
Only problem is she wasn't in your next class.

The bell rings, causing you to flinch. You stow your trombone and hoist the case up.
As you head out the door, you are struck with elation on the providence bestowed upon you.

There she is, right down the hall. It's out of the way to your locker, but hell with it. You can be tardy if need be.

You shuffle down the hall towards her. She's currently rummaging through what you assume is her locker, which you make a note of.

"Hi there!" you say cheerily once you're a few feet away.
She glances at you and gives you a friendly smile.
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