Grime

The young man, aged 15, sat by himself in the cafeteria, picking absently at the food on his tray. Agh, why does cafeteria food have to be so disgusting? He wore a black zip-up hoodie, with black pants and a gray shirt. He was decently tall and thin, with dark green eyes, dirty blonde hair and fair skin. His name was Evan. He had recently moved to a new public high school, his previous school's tuition being too expensive for his parents to afford. He never had many friends at his old school, just a few people he would greet in the halls. He was never great with people, often not understanding a lot of social cues or norms. While all of the other kids would talk in groups or play, he would sit and daydream, or fidget with his clothes, or simply think about whatever his big interest was at the time. He was a big fan of a lot of books and video games, earning him the title of "nerd" or "geek".

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, walked over to the cafeteria's trash can, and scraped the food off of his tray. He couldn't be bothered to eat. When the bell to conclude lunch rang, free period would begin, the period just before the class all of his bullies also had. They would kick the back of his seat, tug at his hoodie's drawstrings, and grab at his sleeves. He didn't quite understand why they disliked him. He never even said anything, but maybe that was a reason in and of itself. He stared blankly out the large window, his mind beginning to wander. Just as he was beginning to lose himself in his thoughts and daydreams, the bell rang.

Returning his tray to the lunch workers, he wandered out of the cafeteria, unsure of where to go. Maybe I could hang out in the bathroom. The far one, not the one near the cafeteria. That one is probably packed right now. Walking down the hall, he became aware of how loud everyone was. He never understood how anyone could stand being around so many other people, all yelling and bumping into each other. It was in times like this that not having friends was a bit of a relief to him. "Watch where you're going, loser!" Someone called out as they ran into Evan. You bumped into me. It isn't my fault you have jank balance.

He walked into the empty bathroom, choosing a stall to camp in for a while. He leaned against the side of the stall, hanging his backpack on the door's hook. He pulled out a book titled Feline Fighters, written by author Sharon Gunther. He had been reading this series since he was in elementary school, loving it to the point of drawing original cat characters and writing stories about them in the book's universe. He had always been somewhat of a creative, finding comfort in art where comfort from others was absent. He read about halfway through a chapter before he heard footsteps enter the bathroom. Well, that ruins it. He returned the book into his backpack, and flushed the toilet to convince the stranger that he wasn't reading a kid's book during free period like a loser.

He exited the stall, and made his way over to the sinks, where another boy was standing, seemingly making some touch-ups to his eyeliner. I hope I don't have any paper assignments next period, Evan thought as he turned the water on. The feeling of paper on freshly washed hands often made him physically recoil in disgust. He looked over to see what the other boy was up to, noticing that he was wearing a shirt of his favorite metal band. I need to compliment him. I can't pass up an opportunity like this!

"I like your shirt," he blurted out. The boy startled a bit, but responded, "Thanks, I just got it at the mall yesterday. I didn't know that anyone else with taste came to this school," he joked.

"Haha, yeah, right?"

Evan, unsure how to continue the conversation, dried his hands and bid farewell to the boy. That's the first person I've had a positive interaction with at this school. I should have gotten his number, he thought. He really hasn't had anyone to talk to in a good couple years. After the early middle school grades, everyone seemed to be so focused on being "cool" that they never talked to a loser like him.