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The hallways swarmed with students as soon as the lunch bell had rung. Everyone was rushing to meet up with their friends again after long periods of separation, choosing seats that might as well have been assigned to them after continuously sitting there for years. Like clockwork, I had watched them all sit at the same tables. Similarly, I had once again chosen the lonely little table at the corner of the cafeteria.
I’m not a loner. Or, at least I hadn’t always been. When I was young, I definitely had friends. For a while, I thought that we’d be friends forever; me, Minho, Chuck, Alby and Frypan. We’d all separated in our first year of high school though. It wasn’t some big dramatic break up. No big fights, no drama, no anything really. They'd all just kinda found another set of friends for themselves. After they’d find some clique that they had related to more, they’d just gradually pull away from the group. Like I said, nothing overly dramatic. Of course, it has yet to happen to me. I continued to sit at the lonely table in the corner of the cafeteria, that had once been full of life and inside jokes.
When I first moved here to the States, I was seven years of age. Back then, all you had to do was approach somebody and you’d instantly be friends. You’d talk about what was showing on the tv, your favorite toys, favorite dragons and or dinosaurs, all the works. I especially had the advantage since I moved from the UK. Kids found my British accent intriguing. Though, it isn’t as interesting to high schoolers as it had once had been on elementary schoolers. Making friends is also not as simple now as it once had been. So after I had lost my friends in a slow process throughout my freshman year, I had stayed alone ever since.
It was all good for me, though. If you told me five years ago how things played out, I would’ve thought I’d be tremendously more devastated. However, it hadn’t really affected me as much as I thought it would. I don’t know how you’d cope with it, but I usually buried myself in a book and it would be all fine. Reading and writing is really what got me through most of the past year. If I busied myself enough, I didn’t have time to think about my immensely depressing and crippling friendlessness. So, that’s what I did. 24/7, I would just start writing about whatever comes to mind.
You could argue that it was my escape, and to that, I would keep my lips shut because I can’t argue with that. I guess that is how it is. Thinking about another story or creating my own is infinitely times better than thinking about my own story. I’ve always loved immersing myself in a different world. It was exciting and thrilling to be tied up in a reality so vastly unique from here. My interest in storytelling had first peaked after my parents divorce. I was separated from my sister, Sonya, when I was ten. I stayed with our mum and she went with dad. My mom—god bless her— was never around. So after hours of sheer delirium from my restlessness, I picked up a journal and started writing. Turns out, I had been eloquent at composition, so I stuck with it.
*******
I had just been wrapping up lunch when the bell rang again. I quietly got up from my seat and headed for my locker, impassively observing others saying their ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see you laters’ to their friends. My next class was economics.
It wasn’t as if I was not smart, I just never took an interest in school work. It hadn’t been my intention to unlock my potential, even if I knew I could pass with flying colors if I had just tried. From then, I stayed an underachiever. It bothers teachers a lot. Even though it’s kinda their job to care for my grades, I hadn’t bothered to be concerned.
I sat in the corner of the classroom. Apparently, my seating habits had a clear pattern that I’m only just now noticing. Our economics teacher, Mr. Anderson, was this tall man with rat-esque features that tended to feign genuinity. He was always seen wearing a clean grey suit. He was passive aggressive and rude, always giving the class the illusion of kindness and professionalism. Though, everyone had known that inside, he was just a bitter man with nothing else to do but take it out on his students. Every student, no matter their grade, academic scoring, or social status, had hated Mr. Anderson. Yes, even the overachieving suck-up know-it-alls hated him. It was poetic in a way, our mutual hatred had united all students despite their differences, for one class period at least. Mr. Anderson surprisingly hadn’t started with his typical lesson plan this morning. Instead, he brought in a brunette, showing him off like a child showing off their stuffed toy at a show-and-tell.
Mr. Anderson announced to us, ”Class, this is our new student. Thomas. He will be joining us for the remainder of the semester. Thomas, introduce yourself.”
Thomas had started to open his mouth to mutter an introduction. “Hi, I’m uh-“
”I expect all of you to treat him with kindness.” He pointed to a seat in front of me before making a hand motion similar to what you’d do to lightly shoo a fly, “Go sit over there, in front of the blond one.”
Thomas had efficiently shuffled his way to the empty desk in front of me. He set up his materials of pens and books on his table in an organized fashion before turning his head to face me. “Hi, I’m Thomas.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised that he talked to me first. “So I’ve heard.” Thomas tilted his head, almost looking confused. It came out exceedingly more sarcastic than I had intended. I immediately took back my words. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, Thomas. I’m Newt.” Great. He’s been here a total of fifteen minutes and I’ve already managed to make a horrible first impression. I was hoping for him to find out I was a loser well into the rest of the year, but I guess there goes that plan out the window.
Shockingly, he just smiled softly in response. “Nice to meet you, Newt.” What had drawn my attention to him was his eyes. He had big brown teddy-bear looking eyes that seemed to reflect light back towards you. They looked like they were glowing softly in the sun. They were soft and genuine. Inviting, almost dangerously so.
”Yeah- uhm- you too.” I shuffled in my seat, looking down to my hands on my desk. Making eye contact with him was intense and it didn’t help that I had never been great at eye contact in the first place. Plus, this is the most meaningful interaction I’ve had all year. It made me feel weird. It also reminded me of my increasingly obvious developmental delay in the social skill department.
Thomas’ smile brightened ever-so-slightly. “Great, uhm- well- I was wondering if maybe you’d like to talk more? It would be nice to know someone and make a friend on the first day… If you don’t mind.”
A beat of silence passed. A friend? He wanted me as a friend? Nobody from school has wanted that in years. “Oh uhm- of course! Yeah, I’d love to get to know you.
He stopped fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, something I didn’t notice him doing until now. “Great! Where’s your next class?”
*******
I had spent the rest of the school day with Thomas. I showed him around the building and told him the basics of what you needed to know at the school. Thomas had this look of perpetual confusion to him. Like a lost puppy or something. So when I found that he was actually incredibly intelligent, it came as a surprise to me.
“You know, you’re consistently looking ceaselessly befuddled. How come you’re so smart?” I blurted out once during conversation. Straight away I wished I hadn’t said it. I prayed he wouldn’t take it the wrong way.
And he didn’t. He gave me the same soft smile from earlier. “I think it’s just the new environment. Don’t worry about it, a lot of people say I’m smarter than what I actually look.”
Our conversations were effortless. For the first time, I felt like I could actually hold myself semi-decently while interacting with another human. Thomas was funny and smart and made it easy for me to talk to him. He was a perfect cocktail of everything. He had insightful and soulful perspectives, like someone who’s aged and matured. Thomas was also a bright starry-eyed dreamer, doe-eyed and whimsical like something you’d see from a seven year old who hadn’t yet lost their childlike-wonder. He was empathetic and kind, scarily attuned with others emotions. However, he was also funny, knowing exactly what to say to make any situation feel brighter. Thomas had managed to prove this to me in the four hours we’ve spent together.
After school, he raced towards my direction to catch up with me. “Hey wait a minute!” He grabbed my shoulder lightly to turn me around.
”Yeah? What’s up?” I queried.
He shoved a yellow sticky note and a pen into my hands. “Could I get your number? You’re really cool and I hope we can hang out in the future.”
The shock that surged through me caused me to freeze for a second. I looked like an idiot, unresponsive and useless before I took the small paper and pen he gave me. I tried to ignore the heat rising to my ears as I hurriedly typed my number on to the paper. “Here you go,” I murmured quietly.
”Thanks,” he responded with a cheery smile that made his eyes glow even brighter. “I’ll definitely call you. See you around, Newt!”
With that, he rushed in the opposite direction, leaving me to try and process the gravity of it all. He asked for my number. He said he was gonna call. It took me a while since that was not something I could say about anyone about five hours ago. I went on the bus, still stupid from the conversation.
I took more time to think about the conversation than I originally anticipated. I thought back to how I blushed at the question. It was definitely strange for me. I don’t think I’ve blushed in the history of my life. It was curious how Thomas was the first to make me blush. It would appear that he’d really affected me. Perhaps it’s because he’s the first one to treat me like this in a long time. I decided not to dwell on it before I start overthinking the whole thing. I put on my headphones and played music through my phone to drown out my thoughts.
*******
I flopped down in my unmade bed as soon as I got home. Once again, my mom wasn’t back yet, so I was home alone. Immediately after I had buried my head in my pillows, my phone buzzed. I checked the notification, expecting my mom to warn me about her absence due to a late shift, again. It was instead an unknown number. I opened it. UNKNOWN NUMBER: heyy this is Thomas. Just wanted to say hi. Thanks for giving me your number btw.
ME:
Hi Thomas. No problem.
THOMAS:
You busy? I’m really bored and it would be nice to talk to someone.
ME:
No, not at all. Trust me, I’m hardly busy most of the time.
THOMAS:
coolcoolcool.
ME:
So, why’d you move here, Thomas?
THOMAS:
Oh that’s ‘cause my mom actually found work here.
ME:
That’s great. What’s she like?
THOMAS:
She’s the best! I swear she loves everyone.
ME:
She sounds sweet. How are you? Do you like it here, I mean?
THOMAS:
I’ll be honest, I thought I’d wholeheartedly hate it here.
ME:
But…?
THOMAS:
But it’s more tolerable now that I’ve met you.
ME:
You really think that?
THOMAS:
Yeah, Newt. You’re awesome.
A beat of silence
THOMAS: My mom is asking me to help take in some boxes. TTYL?
ME:
Yeah, for sure
THOMAS:
awesome. Bye Newt.
ME:
Bye.. *Thomas reacted a heart emoji*
I stared at my phone blankly, rereading the text messages a couple times to make sure it really happened. I couldn’t help but feel oddly flustered, like earlier today when he asked for my number. Thomas has a bigger effect on me than I had originally thought. I wasn’t sure if I was more scared or more wanting to follow the pull he clearly has on me. My phone landed on my bed with a thud when I set it down.
I opened my notebook of stories, like I normally do everyday. Except this time, I had written about my day in detail. Most of all, I wrote about Thomas. I wrote about his soft brown eyes that reflected light. The warm feeling I got whenever he smiled at me. His intelligence both academically and emotionally. I wrote about the way Thomas made me feel giddy and nervous at the same time. For the first time in a while, I wrote about my own reality above fiction. For the first time, what I was feeling in real life was much more exciting to me than any made-up world I could imagine.