𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎

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The tall, muscular teen stood straight at the podium, hands placed confidently on it.


 With tawny hair and bright green eyes, he definitely seemed to have gotten some of the best genes from his family line, because a few people in the crowd sighed dreamily. (Bleck, thought Tom).


"Hello, everyone."


"I can't wait to start my 3rd round of High School."


"Let's have a fun, clean year."


Then he turned around and walked to the start of the line.



Silence.



Everyone looked at one another, confused.


Had he made the speech short on purpose?


The teen gave no reply as he stood silently.


Suddenly, a kid nudged Tom.


"They usually say who their friends are, right? Or other things? Like personal announcements?"


Tommy shrugged, giving no answer, but deep down a realization sparked inside.



He's Clay Lucke, thought Tom. He doesn't have to say who his friends are. People know better now. Anyone barely close to him is untouchable.




Tom was almost impressed.

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