CHAPTER TWO: HERE COMES THE ANXIETY

"I'd say that this is the darkest song I ever wrote
No hint of a smile or the usual quirky anecdotes
No, this is a song about someone new
What not to say, what not to do."
"Here Comes the Anxiety" - The Wombats

The formal dining room was a mottle of half-emptied boxes and crumpled off-white packing paper, visual evidence of Ayumi Kimura's good-faith attempt at domestic organization that had been predictably interrupted by a text from the hospital. Per norm, it had induced a mad scramble for her purse and the keys to a short-term car rental on her way out the door. She'd left her son to handle the movers, promising a quick return, but he'd heard that platitude enough times over the years to know it carried about as much weight as a ruptured Achilles' tendon.

Legs crossed in a seated position next to a box housing heirloom china flatware, Riku watched the movers enter and exit the residence he was expected to call home for the next five months like he genuinely meant it without much interest. In a condemnatory frame of mind, he found himself assessing the mess around him and coming to the conclusion that his parents had vastly overpacked. He suppressed a scowl, then shifted his shoulder, shrugging it upward in a seasoned balancing act between one ear and his latest model iPhone.

"This place is a nightmare."

The admission was muttered, his voice low enough to keep it from traveling out into the foyer where the movers were still unloading belongings his mother had made the executive but ultimately benighted decision they couldn't leave behind for the duration of this temporary relocation. While brilliant in the operating room, Riku was convinced the woman would flunk every single test on a degree track devoted to commonsense domesticity.

Across the phone line, he could hear the precise clicking of rapid-fire typing. "It looked okay in the photo your mom posted to Facebook," his cousin replied. "Maybe a little small."

Pulling another armful of plates out of a medium-sized moving box, Riku exhaled and worked through how to clarify his opening declaration. "It's not the house that's the problem," he said, starting to unwrap the thin paper separating individual plates. "It's the people."

Granted, they'd been in town a grand total of one day, and Riku had admittedly encountered only a small sampling of the town's longtime residents. Between ignorant school administrators, the landlord and her quirky daughter, and even a dubious store clerk who'd bagged their groceries the night before, Riku had noticed enough wary side glances and verbal grandiloquence, canceled out by nearly incomprehensible accented drawls, to conclude that the South wasn't just different; it was a world unto itself that he was in no way convinced harmonized with the sensibilities of his own West Coast upbringing. There were only so many times you could hear the same trenchant "y'all aren't from around here, are you?" utterance in a twenty-four hour period before realizing it was less an eccentrically uniform query among townsfolk than a euphemistic form of downright insult.

"It can't be that bad," Kadaj murmured, still typing, the ruminative hint in his tone giving Riku the distinct impression he was only half-listening while screwing around online with his retina-screen Macbook.

"The principal didn't seem to get that we're fluent in English," Riku countered. "He kept saying things really slowly, making each word sound like three. And this was after Mom had already talked to his receptionist over the phone on, like, four separate occasions to make sure everything was prepped for my transfer."

There was a moment of silence, Riku wordlessly listening as his cousin resumed typing. Apart from the distance in physical proximity, this wasn't that far-removed from their usual in-person exchanges. Kadaj had been diagnosed with ADD back in middle school, along with what seemed like half of their classmates, thanks to the increasing inclination of doctors to diagnose kids with academic performance difficulties and ply them with meds first, then deal with the after-effects of still-existent problem behaviors later, if at all. Even with years of taking the requisite meds, Kadaj could still be a challenge to talk to for more than a few minutes at a time if you didn't know how to approach things. After years of practice, Riku generally did. It usually just involved a shit-ton of measured patience, of which he was in considerably limited supply at the moment.

"Doesn't he know the kind of work your parents do?" Kadaj finally asked.

Grinding his molars as he remembered the exasperating nature of the afternoon meeting, Riku sucked in a harsh breath. "Yeah. At least, I'm pretty sure."

"That's kind of funny, actually." Kadaj snickered, then switched languages, his tone rising in mock sarcasm. "You should've played along, seen how they reacted to claiming you're still inconsolably offended about Japanese internment camps, or whatever."

Pulling the final plate out of its papery packaging, Riku placed it carefully at the top of the pile he'd created on the floor next to him. He balled up the packing paper in an unnecessarily tight fist. "I'd rather not give them any ammunition," he said in English, still irritated. "They already seem convinced I'll have trouble fitting in, like it's me who's the weird one here."

Unbidden, an image of the student who'd sat down near him in Radiant High's administration office earlier that afternoon formed, the guy's subversive expression making almost as much of an impression as the stomach-churning action that'd followed soon after. Given his mother's profession, Riku had never been put off by scenes of blood or gore, but the guy had wrenched the dislocated finger with a casualness bordering on flat-out indifference, which had been another matter entirely to witness. Riku had watched his mother set more than her fair share of broken bones over the years; he'd even seen someone attempt it on themselves once before. He'd never seen anyone manage it without outward evidence of pain though. Putting himself in the boy's place, the thought teasingly encroached on his gag reflex like an enterprising whore offering herself up at a half-price discount in an attempt to entice someone with considerable disinterest in the advertised service.

Talk about weird. That'd been… just…

"At least it's only a couple months before you can come back for college," Kadaj spoke again, his voice pulling Riku away from the troubling thoughts. "Just sucks you're going to miss the senior trip. And Prom, and the last free summer of your adolescent tenure…"

Riku grimaced and raised his eyes toward the ornate light fixture directly above him. "You know, that was almost poetic."

"Don't get used to it. I have a reputation to uphold here."

"As what?" Riku scoffed. "A subpar gamer, or maybe a wannabe gang member?"

His cousin made an offended noise. "That's it. You're an asshole. I'm hanging up."

"Well now I'm offended," Riku said lightly, this time in Japanese. When his cousin didn't respond, Riku ended the conversation himself under the assumption that Kadaj had gotten distracted by something mildly catching his attention yet again. "Anyway, talk later," he said, then hung up, dropping the phone onto the floor by his feet with a heavy clatter.

The husky, congested sound of a clearing throat directed Riku's attention back toward the foyer. Standing beneath the frame that separated the entry from the dining room, Riku regarded the lead moving company employee who'd transported their belongings, noting the clipboard gripped in one hand. "Everything's been unloaded," the man said, "but I couldn't find your mom."

Riku stood, smoothing the distressed fabric on the thighs of his label jeans. "She got called away, but I can tell her you finished when she gets back." The man didn't look convinced. When he also didn't make a move to leave, Riku took a step toward him, eyebrows raised in overt inquiry.

"We prepaid, right?"

Head bobbing, the guy glanced toward a colleague who'd appeared at the front door. "Pack it up," he said gruffly. "We're heading out in a minute."

He turned back to Riku. "I need an adult to sign off on the work order. Is your dad home?"

Shaking his head, Riku slid a hand into his pocket, emerging a beat later with his wallet. "I'm eighteen," he said while concurrently opening the billfold. "Will my signature work?"

Watching the silver-haired teen with scrutiny as Riku pulled out a generous wad of twenties through which he flipped with tempered equanimity, the man finally nodded, then offered up the clipboard and attached paperwork. "I guess that'd be fine."

Riku counted out a few hundreds-worth, separating the calculated sum from the handful of bills that remained with two fingers before reaching out and retrieving the clipboard. He detached the pen that had come along with it, then balanced the board on one hip, quickly scribbling his John Hancock onto the indicated line. Moving to return the materials, Riku slipped the tip money under the metal fastener, handed off the clipboard, and pocketed what remained. He could get more cash from his parents later if he remembered to ask.

At last seeming satisfied, the man offered Riku a quick nod. A moment later, he was retreating from the foyer, heading back toward the truck and the rest of his moving crew.

Riku turned back toward the dining room, eyeing the army of boxes that still needed unpacking. Usually, this was a task his parents would have hired someone else to handle; they just hadn't been able to find anyone offering an applicable service within a sixty mile radius. With both adults already having jumped full-in to work responsibilities for their respective professions, Riku suspected most of the unpacking grunt work was going to fall on him.

Leaning down to pick up the plates, he made his way to the kitchen, depositing them carefully on a faux-granite countertop near the sink. Skirting around the small center island, he slid open the drawer at a built-in desk, then pulled out a boxcutter he remembered seeing his father store there earlier that day, determined to make some headway on as many rooms as possible before his parents returned.

Normally, this type of task would have been boring, or at least felt like it was beneath him. With his first day of school tomorrow looming ever closer and no genuine idea what to expect come morning, Riku was more than happy to take any distractions afforded him at the present moment. Trudging back to the dining room, he reached for the empty flatware box and sliced through its three layers of underside packing tape in one smooth motion.

As he broke down the box, then leaned it up against a free wall, Riku took a moment to scan the room. Of their own volition, his eyes traveled upward, toward one of the room's big picture windows. Across the lawn, the landowner's home rose up in the distance, its wrap-around porch the quintessential standard of Southern architecture. If he squinted, he could just make out a figure sitting on a swing hung on iron links from underneath the porch's wood overhang. She was reading a book and rocking slowly, her dark, chin-length hair fluttering in the gentle breeze of early evening.

This was not an image he'd ever have anticipated witnessing outside of a period film depicted on a movie theatre screen. It definitely wasn't something you saw coming out of an urban West Coast city. Forcing himself to return to the task at hand, Riku slid another heavy box to the center of the room and turned his back on the outside view. It was better not to think at this stage, not to speculate about what lay ahead. He'd take things one day at a time, or break them down further, box by cardboard U-Haul box, if that proved a sounder strategy. Soon enough, he figured, things would normalize, he'd get sufficiently used to this place, and then it'd be time to leave. But really, he tried to embolden himself, high school seniors weren't all that different, no matter what part of the country they went to school in.

That was, at least, his honest-to-god hope.

o - o

The day's first social gaffe arose before he'd even made it through Radiant Hollow Senior High School's double front doors. As his mother pulled up in their Mercedes sedan rental, virtually every pair of nearby eyes turned toward them. Riku exited and said a quick good-bye before realizing the bristling feeling of unwanted attention hadn't even initially been directed at him. Not exactly, anyway. It was the car he'd arrived in that people seemed to be gawking at.

Looking around, Riku scanned the drop-off area, identifying the issue almost immediately. In a sea of American-made pick-ups and beater cars purring with mufflers that had seen their best days when he was likely still in kindergarten, Riku was quick to note just how much his parents' vehicle stood out. This hadn't ever been something he'd needed to think about at his last school. While the occasional student got dropped off by a parent or a paid family driver, most of his classmates simply walked from their homes nearby or took advantage of the city's ample public transit options, Riku included. Now that his mother had driven off, adolescent eyes moved to the next most out-of-place target in the vicinity. Unfortunately for Riku, that happened to be him.

Acutely aware of the weight of their stares, Riku slipped his messenger bag up over his head and adjusted it into a comfortable position on his shoulder as he headed toward the school. He'd always liked this particular bag. Locally made in San Francisco, the materials were high-quality and it was even waterproof to counteract the area's reliably rainy winter weather. Its pedigree hardly matter when everyone around him seemed to be lugging around hand-me-down JanSports.

It got worse. He'd thought he'd shown prudence when choosing clothes for his first day, but wearing even the most modest of his designer jeans and a simple brand logo t-shirt drew scrutinizing looks from boys more routinely sporting torn cut-off shorts and girls in their downmarket spaghetti-strap tank tops. There was, he supposed, something to be said about the level playing field imposed by his last prep school's homogeneous dress code.

Self-conscious, Riku lowered his eyes, unconvinced that there was a time in his life where he'd felt more nakedly exposed.

A sickly sputtering sound followed by a quick succession of colorful, booming expletives had Riku forgetting his plight for a moment. It was accompanied by a medley of classic rock music, set at a volume about ten decibels too loud for any occasion beyond a death metal concert, let alone the drop-off zone at a rural high school. Along with most of the others around him, Riku looked back over to the side of the street curb where the disturbance was in the active process of unfolding.

The vehicle in question was an old pick-up truck. Once likely white, between its oxidized corners and clay-coated exterior, it was now much closer in shade to straight-up orange vomit. A tattooed, knobby elbow hung crookedly careless out an open window, but it was the lurid red hair of the man in the driver's seat that demanded Riku's most pressing focus.

From nude political protestors to seven foot tall drag queens sporting ten-inch high-heels, Riku had seen his fair share of hella bizarre people growing up in a city as unrepentantly quirky as San Francisco, but nothing so much as held a single candle to the radical spectacle of humanity he was gaping at now — or what he could see of it, at any rate.

The truck groaned again and the passenger side door opened, revealing another red-haired occupant, this time a girl whose tresses trended more toward a shade of wine-colored scarlet. She wore a bubblegum pink skirt that didn't particularly match with the off-white of her cap-sleeved blouse — or the electric blue bra that was visible under the fabric of a shirt that wasn't wholly opaque.

Another gurgling pop was followed by a well-articulated 'fuck' and the girl leaned forward over the open passenger-side window to say something to the driver that Riku was too far away to hear, even with the music now lowered to a less deafening volume. Scanning his surroundings, he noted that others seemed just as put-off by the scene, although he couldn't discern whether it was the man's oddball appearance or his creative choice of curse words, which by now were bordering on a veritable work of verbal performance art. By the time he looked their way again, the truck had sputtered back to life and was slowly pulling away from the curb, the girl offering a fluttering wave with the delicate fingers of one hand as her ride disappeared into the distance.

Riku turned back toward the school entrance and shook his head a little, dazed. What the hell kind of messed up alternate universe had his parents just dumped him into? This was well-the-fuck over-the-top.

He entered the school quickly, this time ignoring the looks other students were giving him, simply relieved the administration office was right at the front of the school so he wouldn't have to trek around lost until he got up the nerve to ask someone for help. The receptionist looked up at his entrance, expression oozing a level of disgruntled that was positively masterful. Riku hesitated at the sight, uncertain of the inherent wisdom in approaching someone who looked like she'd take pleasure in strangling the life out of the closest viable option. The moment the door clicked closed, her expression relaxed, and Riku realized it must have been the noise from the hallway that had soured her mood, rather than his arrival.

He opened his mouth to explain his presence, but was cut off by an arm slicing with sharp acuity through the air before returning to its previous position, prone on the desktop, in conjunction with a curt, "please take a seat." Without a word, Riku complied, retracing his recent steps and lowering himself into the seat his mother had opted for the day prior.

A few minutes passed, the receptionist clicking at the keyboard of her computer, an unconscious smile playing on her lips. Idly, Riku wondered if she was chatting with a friend on Facebook or something. In his estimation, no one could enjoy the uninspiring work required of a high school receptionist that much. There was a rising temptation to pull out his iPhone, to text Kadaj or another friend, but he quickly repressed the urge. The time difference alone meant that, at best, his friends would still be asleep and wouldn't reply. At worst, he'd end up waking them before their alarms and irritating them into giving him the silent treatment for an indeterminate period when all he was really longing for was a sympathetic ear. The thought of that possibility just about slayed him. Riku kept his hands well away from the pocket of his pants where his phone was stored as a direct consequence.

The office door opened again, and Riku felt an initial moment of relief to have a distraction from the persistent allure of his phone before realizing that this was probably the student who'd been assigned to guide him to his classes. The nerves returned in short order. A boy in baggy camo-colored shorts and a sleeveless vest situated over a loose-fitting tank stepped forward, his dirty blond hair spiked up with way too much hair product. As he made his way up to the main desk, the receptionist spared him no more than half a glance before her eyes returned to her computer screen, and Riku was reminded how much a difference $50,000 a year of private school tuition made in school employees taking the effort to give a single shit about the students in their daily care.

"Take a late slip if you need it." She inclined her head toward a stack of thin paper strips at the edge of her desk without redirecting her gaze from the computer screen. "His schedule's on the printer."

Without a word, the boy reached out and grabbed a couple slips, then turned, stealing a look at Riku as he made his way across the room. He pulled a single sheet of paper up off an old-school Xerox printer before angling his way back to the door and his new charge.

On cue, Riku stood, and both boys exited the office and into the flow of student traffic in the hall adjacent. Studying the schedule, the boy looked up as he continued to walk. "English is first period," he said, gaze traveling back and forth between his new classmate and the piece of paper in his hand, brows subtly pinching above the bridge of his nose as if he was considering something.

"So, how d'you pronounce your name?"

His accent was prominent, but a lot more palatable than some of the adults. Relieved he could understand the question without having to parse each individual word, Riku enunciated the two syllables of his first name, but didn't elaborate on his middle or last.

His new classmate looked over at him, expression still inquisitive. "That Asian or something?"

The question was posed a little crudely, but Riku wasn't exactly in a position to complain. "Yeah," he answered. "Japanese."

"Sweet," the boy replied, his expression relaxing as he led Riku around a corner into another wide hallway. There was a palpable sense that some invisible tension had broken the moment Riku answered his question. "I'm Hayner, and I've gotta stop at my locker. Yours is across the building, so I'll take y'there before lunch, if that's cool." As he talked, his words flowed together, one filtering over to the next as he spoke at a steadily increasing pace.

As Hayner looked over at him, Riku nodded in an attempt to stall for time as he tried to sort through the twangy jumble of words. Clearly, he was no match for more than one sentence at a time when it came to the local vernacular. "Yeah, that's fine," he murmured, thinking he'd gotten the gist of it, even if not all of the words had been totally comprehensible. "Thanks."

They walked in silence for a few moments, both boys stealing an occasional glance at one another. The hallways were a loud cacophony of the usual high school sounds, with students chattering, laughing, and locker doors slamming all around them. The turbulence of an unfamiliar school-day cadence was slightly unsettling to Riku, but the noise also gave him an out in terms of having to keep pace on a conversational level. As Hayner arrived at his locker, he passed off the schedule, giving Riku his first opportunity to scan it as his guide entered the combination to his lock, then jimmied a protesting handle upward, the locker door swinging out and away from him. The first period bell rang out deafeningly above their heads, but Hayner waved it off, unconcerned. "I got us late slips," he said, speaking over the high-pitched wail of metal on jangling metal. "We're covered."

Not waiting for a response, Hayner began shoveling textbooks and note-taking supplies into his backpack, and Riku took a moment to look down at his schedule. It was fairly straightforward, with basic core math, science, and language arts classes spread throughout the morning that mostly seemed like they'd be review for him. His afternoon schedule was mercifully light, with only one substantive course, then gym and a free study period to cap off the day. He'd already known he wouldn't be taking a foreign language. Back home, he'd been studying fourth year Mandarin, but his new school only had two years' worth of classes and they were in French and Spanish.

Hayner slammed his locker closed, and Riku started, suddenly aware of how quiet and empty the hall had gotten. With a jerk of his head in the direction opposite where they'd come, Hayner headed off again, Riku following a half-step behind.

After a few quiet seconds, Hayner looked over at him. "Do you play any sports?"

"Yeah," Riku said, grateful to field a question with an easy answer. "Water polo. I've been on the school team since ninth grade back in San Francisco."

"Polo…" There was an undertone of puzzlement in Hayner's voice. "Don't that involve horses or something?"

"Um. Not the water version." The conspicuous grammatical error had thrown Riku off and it reflected in the less than confident tone he'd employed in response. Before today, Riku had never realized people actually spoke like this outside of YouTube videos uploaded for satirical purposes, and it took an impressive level of willpower not to default speak up to correct what to him was an oral error of glaring proportions.

Somehow, Riku thought that wouldn't be the best route toward endearing himself to a new classmate.

Increasing his pace, Hayner made his way further into the depths of school, chattering with enthusiasm about the school's football, basketball, and track and field teams, Riku managing to follow the topic with only about three-fourths sum comprehension. Angling his way over to a set of double doors, Riku watched in surprise as Hayner pushed them open and exited the school building. While he did follow along, Riku hesitated under the frame, fingers curling around the metal door handle as he tried to make sense of Hayner's intentions in leaving the school. Was his classmate seriously planning to skip out before first period?

"Hey," he called. "Can I ask where we're going?"

Hayner stopped and turned back to Riku. "Senior English," he said, as if it were obvious. "The lesson's in one of the trailers out back. It's not a huge class."

"In one of the trailers…" Riku echoed the words, tone mildly incredulous. "You've got to be kidding. That's pretty much the biggest redneck stereotype in existence." Still half convinced Hayner was in the active process of aiming to play hooky straight off the RHSH school grounds, Riku remained where he was, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear, a sign of habitual uncertainty in new situations. "I kind of assumed stuff like that was a myth." He kept his tone light, intending the comment to be taken as playful banter.

One look at Hayner's expression and Riku realized he'd missed the mark, and possibly the whole damn target in the process.

Arms crossing over his chest, Hayner regarded him with a look that bordered on categorical affront. "Look," he said, the word clipped, "I don't know how they do it back in Frisco." He pronounced the final word with an exaggerated drawl that forced Riku to lock his jaw and stifle a grimace. That was a term only uninformed tourists generally used to describe his city.

Unperturbed by the look Riku hadn't managed to wholly suppress, Hayner forged on, still visibly indignant. "Here, team sports are life, and that's where most money to the school goes. We've got a great gymnasium and one of the best football fields and teams in all of Cœur Paroisse. There's even a damn nice swimming pool next to the indoor gym, for your information." Although Riku suspected Hayner had used the French variant of the town's parish name to sound more sophisticated, or maybe even in an attempt to confuse him, he held his tongue, simply noting the tinge of pride in the guy's voice as he rattled off example after example of the high school's apparently impressive list of sports arenas.

"So, yeah, we got trailers for some of our classes." Hayner's tone turned from lecturing to mutinously curt. "Get used to it. Around here, that's just how things work."

Turning heel without waiting for a response, Hayner made a beeline for a cluster of nearby trailers raised up from the ground on thick wooden posts. With a quiet growl of frustration, more at himself for the misguided comment than at Hayner for taking offense, Riku sprinted to catch up but remained quiet. It hadn't been his intention for his comment to be taken as an insult. The last thing he needed was to make an enemy on his first day at a new school.

Jaw set, expression grim, Hayner speed-walked over to the trailer located closest to the school's exterior wall. He took the steps up two at a time. Hand curling around the door handle, he paused and craned his neck back toward Riku who stopped at the first step and looked on up. "Oh, and you might wanna reconsider your clothing options if you don't want to get sweat stains clear through your over-priced Hilfigers," he said, eyes passing over Riku's Ben Sherman shirt and Armani Exchange pants with what felt like freshly premeditated disinterest. "This place's got humidity like no other."

Without another word, he yanked on the door and entered, leaving Riku to scramble up the last few steps alone, trying to suppress the myriad curses that were just aching to be given verbal form under his breath.

o - o

By the time last period study hour came around, Riku was fielding a volatile amalgam of emotions, ranging from exhausted and overheated to out-and-out frustrated, with a debatable level of success. In his sincere estimation, he was also one phone call away from demanding his parents book him the next flight straight back home via SFO.

Despite his attempts to get back on the right track with Hayner, his new classmate had remained steadfastly stony, continuing to perform his duties as Riku's guide for the day but not lifting a finger above and beyond what was required of him. They had encountered a few of Hayner's friends between classes. Their initial reaction to Riku had been polite, even interested. In the face of Hayner's overt hostility, their enthusiasm to engage Riku in any form of verbal communication had soon dwindled to negligible levels.

Worst of all, Riku had no idea how to redeem himself.

The divide between new student and guide was only compounded when Riku had taken one look at the lunch options and passed on everything but a piece of fruit and bottled water. Not only did everything look unappetizing to him, each option contained some form of perceptible meat product. Seeing this, he hadn't had much of a choice but to politely opt out. Given the hardened expression Hayner shot his way the moment he placed his less than heartfelt order, Riku sincerely doubted the guy would've accepted any explanation for his choice of cuisine, however reasonable it happened to be.

And gym class. If there was ever a time Riku had wanted to develop an ability to disappear completely, sixth period would have been it. Granted a day's exemption from participation to give him more time to unpack his belongings, including acceptable fitness clothing, Riku had been consigned to the gym's spectator section to watch as others aimed balls at basketball hoops with varying degrees of precision.

It got better from there, if better was in any way synonymous with increasingly awkward. The boy with the dislocated finger had also been present and benched same as him. If Riku had hoped their mutual presence in the admin office yesterday offered any common ground from which to start a conversation, the boy's disinterested gaze and his purposeful choice of bleacher seat as far opposite Riku as physically possible offered a definitive answer to the question of whether he wanted to play nice with the new guy. The guy had ignored Riku for the entire period, first watching the activity on the floor below them without investment, later pulling out a textbook that he hadn't ended up turning so much as a single page in. Occasionally, students at floor level would steal clandestine glances Riku's way, then turn back to talk to their friends, eyes traveling toward his general vicinity before darting away a half second after he noticed them looking.

Now, as he entered the library, Hayner having checked out the moment he'd pointed to the hall where it was located, Riku scanned his seating options, noting first and foremost that there really weren't any easily identifiable open contenders. A few tables had seats occupied only by student backpacks or other belongings. Each time he approached one of these spaces and tried to make his need for a seat implicit, the students were quick to avoid eye contact, the sudden interest in their homework increasing a noticeable tenfold. Short of tapping on shoulders and outright asking for bags to be moved, which he assumed wasn't going to win him any future friendship awards, Riku realized he was going to have to resign himself to browsing the book aisles or just plain give in and settle down on the floor for the long haul.

Just great. He'd gone from generally getting along with everyone at his last school to being well on his way toward complete social pariah status in the span of a single day at this one. And, unless Hayner had been busy shit-talking him every moment they weren't together, Riku suspected some other force was at work in making students unwilling to do more than gawk and whisper whenever he passed within a ten foot radius.

"Hey…"

The voice originated from behind him, speaking in a loud whisper, but Riku didn't turn toward it. Enough other students were speaking to one another, keeping their voices low to skirt the librarian's ire, that he didn't have any reason to think this one in particular was being directed at him. He scanned the area once again, losing confidence that he was going to have time to get any homework done before the school day came to an end.

"Heya, over here."

Again, the voice. This time, it was followed by an inelegantly flailing limb that Riku caught sight of out of the corner of one eye. He turned, quickly locating a pair of students at a nearby study table. Like the other students, these two had their books liberally scattered across the table's surface, a mess of texts, handouts, and wide-ruled spiral notebooks. The single unoccupied chair was taken up by a large purse.

Riku would be the first to admit he didn't know a lot about women's fashion. With an undue number of stringy fringes and its faux leather exterior though, he knew enough to make an educated guess his female friends would be more likely to consider it one hell of an eyesore than something worthy of toting around in their own homes, let alone out in public where others might see it.

Slowly, he approached the two, eyeing both with cautious scrutiny, initially surprised when he could place the girl from the morning truck drop-off spectacle. He probably owed her some expression of thanks, come to think, considering how effectively her arrival had turned attention away from his own. With a slim frame and messy brown hair that could have filled a novel-length book with myriad examples of illustrated cowlick whorls, the boy was someone he vaguely recognized from one of his morning classes. That alone was deserving of light praise, Riku figured. He had been so distracted trying to get back in Hayner's good graces throughout most of the day that none of his other classmates had made much of a lasting impression.

"You need a seat?" the boy asked, his brows rising with the inquiry. Eyes meeting Riku's straight-on over the rim of thin-framed glasses, the open expression stood in stark contrast to everyone else's otherwise ready avoidance of direct eye contact. In the dim lighting of the library, the boy's eyes seemed unfathomably blue, as if the color had spilled from his irises and extended well past their natural optic boundary. It gave him an intensely doe-eyed look that, despite himself, Riku unconsciously began to study. A moment later, he dropped his gaze, realizing with mild chagrin that it probably seemed like he'd been openly staring.

"Yeah," he finally responded, keeping his voice at the same quiet volume. "That would be great."

Turning to the girl next to him, the boy gestured toward her purse. "You heard him. Move your bag."

With an exaggerated sigh that seemed more weary than annoyed, the girl complied, sliding a wrist underneath the purse's shoulder strap and lifting it up. She deposited it on the floor next to her sandaled feet and inclined her head to indicate Riku should sit.

As Riku pulled the chair out enough to lower himself into it, the boy busied himself with gathering his schoolwork into a more contained pile of books and note-taking materials in front of him.

"I'm Sora," he said, then turned, gesturing across the table. "And she's Kairi."

Riku slid his messenger bag into his lap and fished out his math textbook, opening it to the lesson they'd gone over in class that morning, before offering his name in return.

"We already know." The girl's tone had a prolonged drawl to it. Resting her elbows on the table, she propped up her chin in both palms. Riku noted the neon yellow nail polish without comment. It clashed with every article of clothing she wore, not the least of which happened to be the bright blue bra he'd noticed earlier that morning, hidden beneath shirt fabric that was too transparent to adequately conceal it.

"It's, just, we don't get transfers very often," the boy jumped in, "especially not from out of state. When we do, news spreads like wildfire so everyone knows about it lightning quick." Although Sora was speaking with the same accented twang that Riku had heard employed by virtually every other student today, there seemed to be a deliberate slowness to the way he spoke. Unlike the principal and other school officials, this speech pattern seemed more polite courtesy than a resounding lack of confidence in Riku's ability to understand fluent English.

When Riku didn't initially say anything, Sora tilted his head, expression turning thoughtful. "How're you settling in?"

Still feeling off-kilter from encountering students who seemed genuinely friendly — or at least not put-off by his presence, he thought with a quick glance at Kairi — Riku shrugged, the gesture about as non-committal as Switzerland during times of political upheaval. "Okay, I think," he said. "It's an adjustment from my last school, but I'll get used to it."

Twirling a thin strand of hair between her index finger and thumb, Kairi shot Sora a crafty look. "Selphie told me at lunch that he called Hayner a redneck."

Eyes widening, Riku shook his head so hard he supposed he should've been grateful he hadn't ended up with instant whiplash. "I did not."

As Kairi shrugged, apparently indifferent to Riku's assertion, Sora looked between the two of them, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, go on. Don't leave us hanging. If that wasn't right, then what did you say?"

Riku remained silent, expression impassive, and Sora didn't seem put off in the least.

"Everyone knows Hayner's been pitching a silent fit over something today, and misinformation travels just as fast as news about transfer students," he pointed out. "You might as well tell it to us straight before we hear another version from someone else."

Kairi nodded. "Or twelve."

Great. This again. Even though Sora seemed to be approaching his questions in a good-natured manner, Riku had to wonder how long it'd last once he found out what had actually been said.

"I made a joke that I didn't realize was in poor taste. That's all."

Kairi made a dubious sound at the back of her throat. As she shifted her weight more forward onto her elbows, the thin blue strap of her bra slid down to mid-arm. Uncomfortable enough to find prudence in averting his gaze, Riku glanced back at Sora and noted a steadily rising smile.

Although neither was being particularly accusatory, Riku suddenly felt foolish in their combined presence. Not only was he out of his element yet again, it was two against one and he'd never liked unfair odds.

"I made fun of the trailer classes," he said, tone just as clipped as Hayner's had been after the utterance that had instigated this entire social mess. "I already told him I was sorry. I know I made a mistake, but I feel like I've been paying for it all day."

As Kairi rolled her eyes and reached for a flip-phone that seemed like it'd taken a quantum leap direct from 2008, Sora offered a light shrug. "It's a touchy word for some people. We call each other stuff like that all the time, but when it's coming from an outsider, it's just different…you know? He'll get over it eventually, I bet." His words offered gentle encouragement. "You just might want to keep apologizing 'til he does, or find some other way to make it up to him. Pride runs strong in these parts."

Although the explanation didn't offer as straightforward of a resolution as he'd have liked, Riku nodded to indicate he'd heard but didn't otherwise speak.

"Besides, you know what they say about people in small towns…"

Riku opened his mouth, a knee-jerk response nearly tumbling out. A moment later, he clamped it shut. The last thing he needed was to offend two more people in the span of a single day.

Sliding his glasses downward with a thin finger to regard Riku over their frame with an expression bordering on hawkish, Sora drummed his palms lightly against the table. "You were going to say something," he said, voice still a whisper, but rising enough to elicit a grumbled "hush up, will ya" from the next table over.

"No, I wasn't." Riku shook his head to drive home the point.

"Actually, you were," Kairi replied, eyes still fixed on her phone's small screen. Idly, she swiped at her cerulean bra strap, pushing it back up under her shirt. "It was right blatant."

Sora nodded, expression emphatic. "It really was."

When Riku's only reaction was to press his lips into a thin line, Sora leaned forward. "What's the worst that could happen?" he said, his tone a quiet entreaty. "We already know about the spat with Hayner."

Was he being tested? After the day he'd had, Riku wasn't sure he could tell the difference between polite interest and a flat-out demand for an answer, but neither of them seemed to be on the defensive, from what he could tell. If anything, Sora was just curious, Kairi less invested but certainly not acting hypersensitive.

"I was going to say they have small minds," Riku finally ventured, hugging his messenger bag closer as his voice tapered off so much the last word was almost inaudible.

Kairi looked up from her phone long enough to shoot Riku a dirty look without credible conviction but said nothing. Next to her, Sora laughed, covering his mouth to muffle the sound with one hand. Nearby, a few students glanced over. This time they all pointedly pretended to lose interest the moment it was determined that Riku was the one who was returning their gazes.

"And I was going to opine on how small-town locals can be shitheads to outsiders," Sora said, now outright grinning. "But your take works too, and is way more incisive."

As he turned back to Sora, Riku found himself momentarily speechless. Incisive? Opine? This was the first time since arriving that he'd heard an instance of what he considered heightened language — or seen such an openly friendly smile, for that matter. With his quirky sense of humor and considerate inquisitiveness, Sora didn't really remind him of anyone from back home. That being said, he had gotten Riku to at least marginally drop his guard for the first time that day, and quite effortlessly at that.

Still smiling, Sora reached for one of his books, Riku noting with surprise that it was a college-level text. Rather than an RHSH label, it displayed a stamp that declared it property of Radiant Hollow Public Library. "Anyway," Sora said, flipping back to his bookmarked page, "I just wanted to say welcome, and feel free to sit with us sometime again." With a good-natured grin, he clasped his hands together, expression turning exaggeratedly humble as though accepting praise from imaginary onlookers. "You're actually in luck 'cause I'll be here all week."

"Longer than that," Kairi said, her attention drifting back to her phone. "Boy don't graduate 'til June, just like the rest of us."

Offering one last smile, Sora bobbed his head. "Well, that too."

Without another word, Sora pushed his glasses back up in line with his eyes and turned toward his book, eyes scanning the text attentively as he left Riku to replay the recent exchange in stunned silence, all the while pretending to skim a mathematics lesson he'd completed in his former school well over a year before.