“Less grumpy. More…chill.” I repeated with a nod, even though it felt weird to say. I didn’t like the word, ‘chill.’ People used it as if it was a neutral state. But even chill required effort. Practice.
As Naomi took a seat at the girls’ table, I claimed an empty chair with the guys. One of them wore headphones and laid with his head in the crook of his elbow. By the steady rhythm of his breathing, I could tell he’d dozed off. I debated on whether to wake him and decided against it.
The other two boys had pencils in their hands. One drew doodles of warriors amid a battle in the margins of a copy ofThe Hunger Games. The other stared at the scarred side of my face like he was searching for answers.
I cleared my throat, unsure what to say. I was relieved when the kid staring at me spoke up, “I’m Darius. And that’s Andy.”
The artist looked up but quickly glanced back down at his drawing when he realized we’d made eye contact. The red on his brown skin crawled across his cheeks and down his neck.
“The sleeper’s Eddie,” Darius said, still staring as he asked, “What happened to your face, man?”
I raised a brow and touched the side of my face he’d gestured to. Most people went out of their way not to ask but still stared. Sometimes, I felt like that was worse than actually talking about it. I had so many scars that I didn’t think about them much. I forgot kids aren’t like adults. They don’t avoid; they barrel forward.
“I was told this one was from an accident when I was younger,” I said. “Around your age, actually.”
Darius frowned. “What kind of accident mess you up like that?”
“Got in a fight with some older guys. One shoved me into a metal fence. Needed about forty stitches,” I explained. Personally, I appreciated it when people were open with me. I hated metaphors and phrases that tried to smooth over rough edges. Whatever interactions I had here, I wanted to take an open approach. Especially since I was probably the first person they’d interacted with who had such visible scarring.
Darius’s eyes widened at my explanation. Andy looked up after hearing my story. He spoke in a barely audible voice when he asked, “What are stitches?”
“How many guys were there?” Darius asked, simultaneously. His loud voice drowned out Andy’s. “Cause you’re huge. Couldn’t you take ’em?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t big in terms of muscles back then. At least, not in the way I am right now.”
I’d been an overweight kid until high school. My body still carried some extra weight, but my muscle mass evened things out.
“And stitches are when they use a needle to sew your skin together, so it’ll heal properly,” I told Andy. He sat up a little straighter, looking almost surprised I answered his question.
“They tore your skin apart!” Darius’s voice was loud enough to be heard on the other side of the room. “Holy shit!”
“Hey.” Naomi’s tone was stern enough to make me feel like I needed to fall in line. “Indoor voice and respectful language, please.”
The girls frowned in our direction. Naomi gave me a look that read, do you need help? I shook my head.
When Darius made a face at Naomi’s scolding, I echoed her command. “She’s right. No cursing. Don’t look at her like that either, okay?”
He heaved out a sigh and sagged in his seat. “Fine. Sorry.”
Naomi shot me an impressed look before refocusing on what she’d been doing.
“So, uh, what do you guys need help with?” I asked. Maybe starting the conversation off-topic was a mistake on my part. I’d need to steer it to the reason we were all here.
“A stupid paper,” Darius mumbled and nudged his book with the tip of his pencil.
“It’s about the Districts in Panem,” Andy explained with his face down and pencil shading a sword. “Why they were made and what would happen if we had them today?”
“So boring.” Darius rolled his eyes. “Then we gotta make a speech or something.”
“It’s a group project,” Andy clarified and gave Darius an annoyed look. “It’s a play, not a speech. We have to make different parts.”
“Boring,” Darius insisted. The two boys glared at each other, and I felt like I was back home, standing between my sisters in their latest battle.
“Finn.” Naomi appeared at my side. She raised her hand like she’d been about to touch my shoulder. My body stiffened in anticipation of physical contact. She pulled back at the last minute, sensing my change of posture. She’d read it wrong. I wouldn’t mind her touch in the slightest.
“Everything alright?” I asked.
She nodded with a smile. “Fine. Finally got the girls to tell me about the group assignment. Apparently, everyone here is a group member.”
