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‘Tell him you’re not mad.’

“N-no... I'm not mad.”

“I didn’t ruin your shirt, did I?”

“I’ve, uh... I’ve had worse...”

‘Pfft.’

“Well, uh, I’m Micah.”

“Yeah, I know. We... we, um... have a couple classes together.”

“Really? I never noticed. I guess that makes sense, though. You seem like the quiet type.”

‘Pfft!’

“Yeah... I have a little trouble... uh... speaking my mind...”

‘A little, he says!’

“You should come sit with me and my friends at lunch tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to everybody. Unless you’d rather not. It’s fine, either way. Hey, you alright? You look a bit red in the face.”

Hector averted his eyes.

“Whoa, are you blushing? I’ve never seen a black person blush before. That’s pretty awesome. Kinda hard to notice, at first. Holy crap, not anymore, though. You’re like a tomato, now.” Micah laughed. “Am I making it worse? Should I stop talking about it? I’ll stop talking about it.”

Hector just stood there awkwardly, fighting the urge to flee in abject horror.

“But, um, yeah. Come sit with us tomorrow. I promise not to throw things at you. Anyway, I gotta get going. Seeya later?”

He managed a nod. He leaned against the row of lockers after Micah was gone.

‘That went surprisingly well,’ said Garovel. ‘What do you think?’

‘He’s way too friendly,’ Hector thought, wide-eyed. ‘This can only end in disaster...’

‘Oh, just calm down, drama king. If you don’t like him, that’s fine. There are plenty of other people you can be friends with.’

‘No, that’s not it at all... I mean... I’ve, um... uh...’

‘C’mon. Spit it out. You can do it.’

‘Please... stop... patronizing me... I’m trying my best here...’