She shuffles into the hall, trying to fall into place. She stumbles a little. Her rhythm is different from the others. It seems that her steps follow a tune that no one else can hear. Maybe a catchy albeit awkward tune or a timid yet sullen lullaby.
His gait is confident and self-assured. His eyes look straightforward toward his goal, never dodging away, never connecting with another's gaze. Thoughts raked his brain as pale hand meet copper hair. The war in his head was at full steam today. Ten milligrams of sweet white chalky relief would soon be available.
Bam. One hundred and fifty pounds of soft curves and one hundred and eighty pounds of lean muscle collide. A harsh "fuck" comes from soft cherry glossed lips. A low soft "shit" from the boy's freshly licked lips. Mumbled apologizes embrace each other as fingers dodge each other shuffling for papers. Soft small bump hands nudge large calloused hands. For half of a second there is silence. But hands pull away as if electrocuted.
Green meets brown. Grass on dirt. Chocolate in mint ice cream. Moss on bark. Leaves on branches. The silence is back. But as quickly as it appeared it gone. Hood back over mahogany waves. Eyes glued back to linoleum tile. With amour back in place, the girl may begin period 1, Biology 101. The boy follows in stride guarding his eyes to keep in place his guise.
