the boy and his acorn

division of emotion

~Connor's POV~
I avoid my locker. I have since sixth grade, when some jerky kid slammed my hair in it. I just carry everything I need in my bag, and since it's "technically" no bigger than a binder, the administration can't say a thing.

I walk towards Algebra with my head down.

Avoid everyone. Don't make eye contact. Breathe.

I'm the first one to the room. Which is fine, and means I get my pick of seats.

I slide into a seat at the very edge of the room, farthest from the door, and towards the back of the middle.

Just slide under the radar.

A minute later some kid dressed like Richie Tozier comes in, taking a seat in the back.

I chuckle internally. These teachers don't pick on the ones in the front.

They pick on the ones in the back.

Making sure they're paying attention.

I lean back in my seat and see Blue Polo Guy walk in.

He looks very green. New, anxious.

I watch him from the corner of my eye. He is absolutely not anyone I should be seen talking to, not if I want people to keep being scared of me and leaving me alone.

People are scared of me, so they stay out of my way. Unless they're pigheaded jocks, who seem to think it's cool to be transphobic jerks all the time.

Everyone would be a transphobic jerk to me if I didn't look as intense as I've managed to become since middle school.

So, avoid people, glare at them until they move, ignore everyone, and bottle up my anger until I'm home.

It's a good system.

At least it was, until the blonde guy with the arm cast and blue polo became so intriguing.

I spend the whole class looking at him from the corner of my eye.

I have to try and talk to him, but I don't know how.

God, humans.