John looked at his phone, it's glare burned his eyes in the dark of his room. The text message read:
Hey, this is Mercedes. I got your number from the school files. I hope you don't mind. I'd like to meet.
He texted back: No thanks. I'm good. Then, moments later he added: Sorry, but I don't want to know you.
His phone rang, a few minutes later. The text message read: Whatever
John deleted the message, set his phone to silent and went back to sleep. He woke up the next day, a Thursday, and made himself breakfast. First hour started at 7:15. He owned a bike, the weather was warm so he woke up at five forty-ish and showered and dressed and made himself breakfast.
Getting dressed was easy, he choose a clean pair of pants, one of the ten that were essentially the same black, professional cut jeans then he put on one of his ten medium grey shirts; socks and underwear were all black, calf high socks; boxers.
Breakfast consisted of an orange, coffee with coconut oil stirred in and a large bowl of oatmeal. He wore a dark grey hooded sweater under a black, cloth, bomber jacket.
Before leaving he brushed his teeth and double checked that his tablets were in his backpack, along with his charging pack. One tablet for the ebooks, one for taking notes, and a military grade half brick of a charger.
At lunch he watched the same duo walk back and forth along the corridor between the temporary class room trailers and the three story second building. A boy and a girl. The girl had short hair in variously faded shades of blue and aqua-green. Her friend wore a black leather duster and a black leather, wide brimmed hat. The boy made John think of villianous cowboys. The girl's jacket matched John's, but on her petite frame it covered her butt and the sleeves scrunched funny at her elbows. Hers had patches on it and the back was taken up with a paint markered on, inverted triangle, the bottom tip flattened. He saw them every lunch, when he wasn't in the library poking around on the school servers.
They usually just nodded at each other but this time the girl walked up to him, her friend hanging back. "Like your style," she said. She nodded.
"Thanks. Your hair's pretty cool."
"I know. You're in my friend Diana's second hour?"
"Sorry, who? I'm bad with names."
"She's blonde? Really tall? Plays volleyball?"
"Oh! Her! Yeah, I'm in her --right. Close Up."