Salt

A figure sat down in front of me, not even bothering to introduce themself.

I looked up, shocked and confused that anyone was wanting to even sit next to me. There it was; the figures blonde-haired lying like a mop over her face. Still keeping her face down, she swung her black backpack off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor with a thud.

I looked back down at my peanut butter sandwich and took a bite. Chewing my food, a loud scoff erupts from across me.

I furrow my eyebrows, looking at the blonde mystery across from me. I swallow my food, "Sorry, Is there a problem?"

The blonde snaps her head to look at me, finally revealing her face. She had tan skin, probably from some beach or something, definitely not from the cold weather in Minnesota. Her eyes were captivating, it was scary. They were a soft, yet intense, brown; something that made her, suddenly, so trusting and released warm fuzzies in my stomach.

She shook her head, "No, no problem. Just shocked that people still eat peanut butter sandwiches. Moms are soo relentless" she trailed off. She points at me and squints her eyes, "Your mom made it, huh?" she asks. My mom did, actually, and cut it down the middle the way I liked it. But, who even was this girl?

I stared at her, dumbfounded and slightly offended, slowly putting my favorite sandwich down into its original bag. "Sorry," I say. What was I saying? Why was I saying sorry to this stranger?

Her brown eyes went wide and she let out a musical-like laugh. "No, no, please. Don't let me stop you." I stared at her not even bothering to finish my sandwich. I definitely lost my appetite.

She cleared her throat, "I'm Bates Morgan, I just moved here from California." She sticks her hand out, motioning for me to shake it. So I do.

Her hand was soft, probably moisturized every day with hands like that.

"So what? Do you have a name or something?" she raises her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah, umm. Wren. Wren Earley," her dark eyes scan my face as I continue, "Wren like the bird." She stares at me blankly. "Nice to meet you," I mumble.

"Don't mumble." She says pulling her hand away, "Only pussies mumble."

I stared at her appalled. I look back down at my unappealing sandwich and deciding not to say anything.

"Sorry," I say once more, louder than the last. There it was again, why was I so sorry all of a sudden?

I reach in my backpack and grab my book. Maybe if I said nothing, maybe she will go away. Maybe.

I feel her watch as I quietly grab my Of Mice and Men book and submerge myself in the friendship between Lennie and George. It was the friendship I always wanted.

"So what are you? Anti-social or something?" Bates says to me, finally break the awkward silence, eyeing the book I have in my hand.

I glance at Bates; she's leaning over the table, her chin resting on her hands as if she was watching a movie. "Yeah, something like that. Just shy sometimes." Sometimes was definitely an understatement.

She squinted her eyes at me. She could probably see right through me. "Sometimes?" She questioned. She grinned, shaking her head, "Your name clearly fits you."

I put my book down, not responding. It was a sensitive topic--my shyness. It was the main reason I spent my days by myself. I didn't want to get my feeling crushed by someone else, so I kept my distance. It wasn't worth the heartbreak.

"What are you, Wren? A senior or a little baby junior?"

"I'm a junior," my cheeks turning a little red.