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to my left to see a boy with crumbs all over his face and

clutching his trapper keeper so tight to his chest like he’s

scared someone could snatch it at any moment.

Great. First class of the first day, and I’d already made

poor decisions. I wonder what my mother would say if she

saw me now, fraternizing with a crumby boy and admiring

a laugh that is far too loud to be that of a proper young

girl.

“Oi!” The boy grabs his trapper keeper and brushes

what I assume are granola remnants from the desk beside

him.

“Sorry. Can I sit here?”

“Uh- sure!” He scrambles to finish brushing crumbs

off my desk and pats the desk with his fingers.

I’m taken aback to hear his Irish accent.

“I’m Laine.” I start to extend my hand toward him,

but then decide against it considering the fact that his desk

looks like the crime scene of a murdered gingerbread man.

Regardless, I figure I should at least introduce myself if

we’re going to be sitting together for the rest of the year.

“I’m Thom.”

Thom gives a cheeky grin plastered on his scrawny

face. His hair is a medium brown going in all different

directions, and his eyes are a deep black, almost fading into

his pupils. He smells surprisingly good despite looking

completely disheveled. Not that I’m sniffing him or

anything.

He looks harmless, friendly even. Immediately,

immense guilt overcomes me as I realize everything I just

assumed about this boy was harsh and uncalled for on my