Highschool Lunch

a short piece i wrote a while ago about young john and young mickey meeting in school

It isn't so terrible being alone. There's no one for John's parents to persuade away. He has his books and his small lunch that that's okay. The medical study book sits open next to him with a good distance so he doesn't ruin his hard-earned pages. He glances at it between bites. There isn't much more to learn from it. He has so much extra time with his lack of social inclination that he has read it front to back more times than he can count. Adjusting his glasses, he mumbles under his breath the medical terms until his mouth starts to treat them like real words.

Honestly, he doesn't really know why he speaks. If it were his world, he would only speak in performance. He's a laughingstock when he tries otherwise. The only reason he speaks is the same reason is smiles: his parents would be mad if he didn't.

Someone sits across from John and he moves his things to keep out of their space. John quiets his mumbling words to whispers.

"Are you not gonna talk to me?" the boy asks in amusement.

John looks up. It's the boy from the local coffee shop. His hair sits mussed like he ran here late and a flush paints his face. He's always a good-looking man. John mumbles, "Good afternoon," before going back to his book.

"Hm. People were right, you really aren't one to talk," the boy muses. He shifts in his seat, rummaging through his bag for something as John tries to drown out the sound of being too close to someone with his whispers. He hopes no one tells his parents. With a little exclamation, the boy finally pulls something out and sets it in front of John. "I got you one of those college textbooks," he says, sounding very proud of himself.

John tentatively shoves the rest of his food in his mouth and picks up the book. As he rotates it in his hands, he runs his fingers over the hard cover and feels its weight. It's new. This must have been expensive. Glancing up at the boy, he tries to insist he shouldn't take it.

"Come on, it's a gift, John," the boy says.

John blinks. He knows his name. Hm. He squints, trying to figure out if he ever learned his name.

The boy just chuckles. "I don't think I introduced myself at the coffee shop, did I? My name's Mickey," he says, extending his hand. John shakes it. Then Mickey leans back and says, "You can go back to reading, I don't mind. I just thought you'd like the gift."

Nodding slowly, John awkwardly closes his original study book. He sets the new textbook in front of him and opens it. Under his breath, he reads, and he stumbles over the first words until he can say them right, and Mickey doesn't leave.