to my left to see a boy with crumbs all over his face and
clutching his trapper keeper so tight to his chest like he’s
scared someone could snatch it at any moment.
Great. First class of the first day, and I’d already made
poor decisions. I wonder what my mother would say if she
saw me now, fraternizing with a crumby boy and admiring
a laugh that is far too loud to be that of a proper young
girl.
“Oi!” The boy grabs his trapper keeper and brushes
what I assume are granola remnants from the desk beside
him.
“Sorry. Can I sit here?”
“Uh- sure!” He scrambles to finish brushing crumbs
off my desk and pats the desk with his fingers.
I’m taken aback to hear his Irish accent.
“I’m Laine.” I start to extend my hand toward him,
but then decide against it considering the fact that his desk
looks like the crime scene of a murdered gingerbread man.
Regardless, I figure I should at least introduce myself if
we’re going to be sitting together for the rest of the year.
“I’m Thom.”
Thom gives a cheeky grin plastered on his scrawny
face. His hair is a medium brown going in all different
directions, and his eyes are a deep black, almost fading into
his pupils. He smells surprisingly good despite looking
completely disheveled. Not that I’m sniffing him or
anything.
He looks harmless, friendly even. Immediately,
immense guilt overcomes me as I realize everything I just
assumed about this boy was harsh and uncalled for on my
