Clothes are meerly fabric [prinxiety]

Part 1

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"Today we're having unknwon meat burgers and droopy fries, with a sad excuse for chocolate milk." Logan reports, snapping his binder closed and putting it back in his locker. With the other twenty seven binders he owns. Cronically ordered of course.

"You have a binder for our lunch menu?" I ask incredulously. He looks at me like it's obvious and I should very well know this fact.

"Of course I do. How else will I know when we're having pb&j days?"

"I don't  know, when you enter the cafeteria and they're serving it?" I suggest. Logan thinks about it for a total of thirty seconds. Then he obviously replies with scrunching his nose, and shaking his head.

"No, that would be far too unpredictable." I roll my eyes and stuff my hands further into the giant hoodie I'm wearing. If course it's black, because what other could it be? If it were any other color people might judge and stare.

Logan closes his far too organized locker, and starts making his way to the cafeteria. Without anything else to do I follow him. Of course once we get there Logan immediately scans the thick crowd for one face in particular. Of course he tries to make his searching discreet as possible. But unfortunately for him I know when the dude's pining after someone. And let me tell you that he is pining for this particular dude hard.

When Logan spots the person he was looking for. His face twitches in a way that he will never admit is a smile. I roll my eyes for about the millionth time this day. I grab his wrist and drag him to the lunch line. He sputters in fury, and demands to be let go. I complie and wipe my now dirty hand on my skinny jeans. I pause and look down at the pants.

I frown I rather be wearing something much more . . . let me search for the right word. Hmmmmmmm feminine? Yeah that sounds about right. What I rather be wearing is the long knit skirt that I saw in the window of target yesterday. The one with the big buttons and thick yarn. One glance at the hormonal teens around me, that thought withers to a crisp.

Yeah so maybe I have a small thing for skirts... dresses... cute shoes...

I scrunch my brow further when I fall into the rabbit hole of all the things I could wearing. I'm not wearing them because that's stupid. I am a boy there for I should act like one. Not some thirteen year old girl playing barbies. Barbies are really cool though...

I'm shook out of my thoughts, when someone tackles me in a bone crushing hug. I yelp, as the person who is hugging me steps on my foot. They immediately let go.

"Oh my gosh I'm so so so so sorry!!" He rushes out, looking down quickly at my 'injured' foot.

"It's fine Patton, just never do that again." Patton nods feverently. I look behind him to see some guy stifling a laugh. What's weird about this guy is that he looks like a jock. But he's hanging out with Patton. No offence to Patton in anyway shape or form. It's just that we don't exactly attract the positive attention of the jocks. This guy wearing his black sweat pants, and red tank top looks like a jock. And no I did not notice his bulging arm muscles. That's idiotic so, no I did not.

"Who the fudge cakes are you?" I refrain from swearing in front of Patton. The wannabe jock chuckles.

"I am Roman, and you are?" He declares grandly. If this dude hasn't already gotten weirded out stares from hanging out with us, he attracted a lot more.

"Virgil." I said curtly. Stalking off, to find some inadequate chocolate milk. Patton follows quickly behind me, and to my absolute dismay, so does Roman.

"Ya know Virgil I think you'll like Roman." Patton says cheerfully. I pause in my stalking off to look at him. He's grinning and looking around for something. I sigh and go to the small drink vending machine in the corner. No one uses it during lunch. Why? Because weirdos like me, Logan, and Patton hang out by it. You could say it's our vending machine. But don't, someone somewhere will make fun of it.