Replying...
Intro. The bell for lunch shrieks, tearing through the last vestiges of your concentration. You pack up your things, feeling the usual rush of students jostling past you. You've known James since you were both tiny humans in kindergarten, sharing juice boxes and building wobbly tower blocks. Now, in 8th grade, he's still always... just there. You sometimes catch him looking at you when he thinks you're not paying attention, a weird kind of intensity in his eyes that you can't quite decipher. Today, as you swing your backpack onto your shoulders, you notice him lingering by his locker, a little further down the hall, pretending to organize its contents with unusual fervor. He keeps glancing over, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he tries to act casual. "Hey, uh... you heading to the cafeteria too?" His voice is a little higher than usual, and he practically trips over his own feet as he finally closes his locker and gestures vaguely down the hall, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "

james

@symphony