Winter's only just come to an end, the snow melting begrudgingly in small patches. It's just warm enough for the soccer team to do laps on the outside track that circles the still frozen soccer field, and for me to eat my lunch under the drooping pine and pretend not to watch. Just below the heavy branches is a spot void of snow and it only takes a wave of my hand to dry and warm the earth. There's a heavy book nestled in my bag (one of many in my 'please let this one have answers' library) and I pull it out to scan over the pages.

Truthfully, little reading was bound to happen. I knew that the moment I watched the team head out in their winter practice gear. I gave it a solid try still, managing almost a paragraph between bites and the occasional glance at Roman Miranda, previously mentioned striker for the varsity soccer team, current senior with a full-ride sports scholarship, and so incredibly out of my league we might not even be the same species.

Also, like, incredibly straight, obviously.

I try not to let that hurt too bad. I can have my thoughts. They can't take those from me, and it's not like I'd ever act on them. Later down the line I'll never have to think of this school or its students ever again. Forever. I'll move on and disappear like I've always wanted to, maybe hop a train and never look back. Although I'll probably just live in the dragon's den on the mountain and exist on a diet of poorly cooked fish and berries.

Lunch is almost over when it happens. I've finished what food I could stomach, and I’m trying to shove the newest unhelpful book back into my bag, when a face all but shoved itself into my vision.

“Do you always sit out here alone?” The face asked, eyebrows delicately spelling out the most polite way of saying 'I'm confused' that I've ever experienced. The face is an unrecognizable one – older than a freshman, but still a student, and handsome in the filthy way the TV portrays all bad boys.

I stared for a moment, frowning at the intrusion on my quiet lunch. The only answer I had for him is a gentle rise and fall of my shoulders. I pointedly collected my things and walked purposefully from the comfort of my drooping pine, towards the cafeteria doors.

“Does the shrug mean you don't know, or...?” The stranger persisted, catching up and matching my stride, “Or does it have something to do with the soccer team?”

I felt the tips of my ears turn red from embarrassment and I resolutely ignored the intruder as I tossed the remnants of my food into the garbage. Others had started to stare and either he hadn't noticed or he simply didn't care. Either way, it was too much attention on me, so I picked up my pace through the cafeteria and slipped into the hallway, hoping to lose him.

He was still behind me. I could feel his presence like a dull humming noise, and I was tempted to just drop my heavy bag and run full-tilt to my house. I really had to avoid more detentions, though. Somehow I ended up at my locker, and the stranger hovers nearby, leaning against some of the other metal doors.

“Man, you really don't like socializing.” He chuckled quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets, “And here I thought I was making a friend.”

I wanted to speak then. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't someone he should be friends with; that, really, the most humane thing he could do was pretend I don't exist like all the other nice kids do. Or, if he really wanted to, he could join the not nice kids in destroying my life. Either way is avoiding becoming a social pariah.

I couldn't even figure out why he was trying to get my attention in the first place. It wasn't like I emanated a friendly atmosphere, and I was almost as far from a good conversationalist as one can get before having the physical qualities of a rock. Still, he'd followed me through the cafeteria and all the way to my locker to continue talking to me.

I gave him a look that I could only hope fell somewhere between confused and withering.

“Oh,” He said, “Do you not... Do you not know who I am?”

I gave him a once over and he took that opportunity to smirk and wink at me. The smirk faltered when I shook my head, the perked back up when I didn't seem to be running away anymore.

“Right, sorry,” He thrust out his hand toward me in greeting, and I tried to pass my jump off as scuffling my feet, “Max Myers. I moved in just next door to you?”

I struggled to remember the box truck in front of the vacant house on my street a couple weeks ago. I hadn't paid much attention to it, having been heavily distracted by icing the bruises slowly forming on my arm.

“I'm also in your second period English class?” again, his response was more of a prompt or question than friendly conversation and I had to wonder if he thought he might be able to trick me into talking. I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping he'd take the hint that I wasn't remotely interested in shaking his still outstretched hand, and eventually he let it drop back down to his side. He didn't leave though, and clearly I wasn't going to be able to stop him from talking, no matter how many noncommittal shrugs or seething glares I sent his way.

“You're pretty fast, you know.” He said, “I saw you walking to school when I was on the bus a couple days ago, so I thought, well it can't be that bad of a walk. But when I tried to join you the next morning you were already gone. Do you have a short-cut or something? Or are you a speed-walker?”

By this point lunch was just about over and the soccer team had returned inside, ears and cheeks flushed from their chilly exercise. I let my mind, and eyes, wander briefly towards Roman, his softly curling hair damp with sweat. As the team filed into the hallway, heading towards the gym, I pressed my face inside my locker.

This was rule number one in Julian Rhydderch's Only One and a Half More Years survival handbook. The sharks look for blood, so don't put in any in the water. The less people see you, the less they will target you, so when big hordes of them travel through the hall like this, your best bet is to hop into an empty room, office, or bathroom. If nothing else is available, take a moment to really appreciate the inside of your locker. You should also be thankful that your school doesn't have the full sized lockers, otherwise you would probably have spent more time there than you really wanted to.

Somewhere to my left Max snorted, just as the first bell rang. Students filtered into the hallway en masse and I thought I could make out a quiet “I thought this only happened in movies.” before it got quiet again.

When I finally resurfaced Max was already gone, probably to find his next class or a bathroom or something. There was a little unpleasant twinge in my stomach, but I buried it beneath relief that I was alone again, and went on with my day.

I kept my head down, but Max didn't seem to be in any more of my classes. Or maybe someone had seen him talking to me and explained why that shouldn't happen again. The twinge resurfaced at that thought. He was probably avoiding me, avoiding becoming the newest social outcast just for hanging around the town weirdo.

I'm beginning to think Destiny has an overabundance of saliva.

The last bell rang out and students ambled from their classes, talking about homework or girls or TV or whatever it is I'm meant to be interested in as a sixteen year old boy. Leaning against the handrail outside, Max's eyes flit through the crowd, searching for someone. When he meets my gaze he smiles broadly, raising his arm, and opens his mouth to greet me. It's all I can do to calmly turn away, heading in the wrong direction to get home, but I'd rather be late for dinner than try to explain to the new kid why everyone's started giving him dirty looks.

It's too late, though. He's almost caught up to me, trying to get my attention without knowing my name, and I know people are looking.

It's Freya Linley who stops him with a pretty smile and a dramatic swish of her dark hair.

“Max!” She's got that devilish gleam in her eye, the one she's perfected through Mock Trial and Model UN that says 'Now that you're looking, you can't turn away until I get what I want.'

I've seen that look turned on teachers with an alarming success rate.

“Alex heard from Eden who heard it from her boyfriend James that Sam said Coach Higgins told him you're joining the soccer team.” My brain hurt, “You should come hang out at Sam's and get to know the team!”

She gave me a not-too-subtle sneer which prompted me into realizing that, at some point, I had stopped and turned around to receive this punishment head on. Right on cue, Roman and Sam showed up chatting about drills, and I turned again, intent on getting out of there with no more attention. Now. Before Max was drawn in.

“Actually,” he said as I started walking away, “He's my neighbor, and I have no sense of direction, so I was just gonna have him show me the route.”

I stopped again. He must not have understood. Someone would explain it.

“You live next to Julian?” Roman said. I was a bit surprised he even remembered my name.

“Dude, I can drive you.” Sam said, a hint of laughter on his tongue.

“No, thanks.” Max smiled, “Gotta learn the way someday. Thanks for telling me his name, though!”

I couldn't move. Surely he wasn't going to ignore their obvious warning, was he? Had I been too friendly at some point? Maybe he just hated cars or friends or something. Maybe he was trying to get me alone so he could mug me or toss me in a dumpster, or some third equally unrealistic thing that I couldn't come up with because between Freya's weird monologue of names, Roman knowing mine, and the new kid who just said he'd walk home with me I must have lost my mind, or at least what little there was left of it.

Then dumb Max put his dumb arm around my shoulder like we were pals and my mind shut off completely.

It wasn't until several blocks later that I realized Max had corrected my initial wrong-turn-escape-attempt and was now easily guiding us back to our neighborhood. I gave him a look, eyes narrow and mouth straight, as if by studying him I could figure out what he actually wanted from me. He just chuckled and dropped his arm, hands shoving back into his pockets.

“They really don't like you, do they?” I shrugged again, thinking about the re-education Max was bound to receive tomorrow. “Someone came up after lunch and said some really wild stuff about you, you know.”

I sighed. The re-education had already started, but he must have been a really fickle student.

“Things like you used to talk to yourself and that you believe in dragons, and something about being Extra Crazy and some defaced literature...” He trailed off there, smiling to himself, “Shit, defacing books would've made you king at my last school, mute or not.”

I didn't correct him. In for a penny, I guess. Instead I focused on my shoes as he continued to ramble, his topics ranging from more rumors (I guess I rearranged some of the massive boulders on the far side of the school yard) to weather, to his mother's cat who, he swore, was trying to kill him.

“It's not that I don't like cats,” He said as we got closer to his house, “I just don't think this one likes me. He's fine with my little siblings, and obviously my parents, but I'll change his mind.”

I didn't have the heart to tell him that most cats in the area had a habit of migrating to what I'd been calling the kitty commune on the side of the mountain. There had to have been thirty nestled around the dragon last time I visited. I didn't really want to talk to him at all though, and I wasn't really sure what his reaction would be to a very large and bitter lizard with great billowy wings and mysterious lack of fuse. Something in me doubted that the cats would make it better.

“Anyway, you wanna come in for snacks?” His broad smile was blinding, and it took me a moment to escape my own mind and shake my head. I had to get home, see if mum was there. Besides the events of the day had given me the urge to lock myself away in my room and never speak to anyone ever again, and I sincerely doubted I could make it five more minutes without setting something nearby on fire.

“Alright, it's cool!” Max's smile didn't fade, and I had to turn away for fear of permanent damage to my eyes. “We can walk to school tomorrow. Still don't quite have a grasp on the route.”

He winked and I glared back at him, with less venom than previous times. I studiously ignored the part where he'd managed to get us both home, despite the panicked fugue state I'd been in for most of the walk, and slunk into my own house, closing the door softly behind me.