Oren ~One~

“Oren. Oren!”

I blinked and turned to face the voice.

“Don’t you think the assignment we had last night was too long?” Bruno asked.

I shrugged before biting into my sandwich.

“It was alright.” I told him, then snatched some chips from his lunch bag. He shook his head but made no move to stop me.

“What were you staring at anyway?”

I looked back, across the school lunchroom to the finger paintings I had been inspecting.

“The second grade art over there.” I told him, tilting my head in the direction of the wall they were hanging on.

“Why?” Bruno asked incredulously.

I shrugged again and nibbled on my salt and vinegar chips. Bruno shook his head again and turned back to Dean to continue their conversation. I resumed staring at the pictures. It’s not like I didn’t have anybody else to talk to. Six boys sat the lunch table, including myself. I just didn’t feel like trying. At last I peeled my eyes away from the finger painted mess and sighed.

Lunch is so boring.

I twisted around to look at the other 8th graders sitting behind me.They were laughing about something as they stole each other’s food. I wanted to sit with them. I truly did...but I couldn’t. They seemed so happy. So tightly knit. I didn’t want to ruin that.

Not that I’d ruin it...I just...I wouldn’t really know how to act over there anyway. I’m too quiet.

I sighed again while running my fingers through my light brown hair. I wasn’t having new person problems. I had been at this school for almost a year now. 

The kids were nice. 

The teachers were nice. 

The school was nice. 

I hadn’t gotten into any drama. 

I hadn’t been shunned.

No. I’m content here. Only…

I turned back to face Bruno and Dean. I wanted a friend. A best friend. More than anything.

I thought back to Bruno’s question.

"What were you staring at?” and, “Why?”

Why? I didn’t have anything else to do. I didn’t have anybody to talk to.

I shook my head as I packed up my lunch.

Don’t say things like that Oren. There are plenty of people to talk to. You’ve had many nice conversations.

Yes. I’ve had nice conversations. I’ve had the pleasant ones that only last for a few minutes before they run back to their bestie. I’ve stood there, even after several minutes had passed, asking myself over and over, "Am I really that boring?"

The bell rang. The chatter of the lunchroom floated outside as we walked back towards the main building. At first I wasn’t very fond of having a lunchroom separate from our main building, but I grew used to it. The walk, however short it was, gave me time to think.

It was true. During the first semester I was shy and maybe seemed a little cold. I hadn't wanted to leave homeschooling. As time passed I realised I did like it here. I did want to stay. And I did want a friend.

But then it was too late for me.

The new people had already paired themselves up. They had already found their friends.

And here I am. Starting to talk to people at the end of the second semester. You idiot. It’s far too late.

I forced myself out of my thoughts again and noticed I was halfway back to the school.

There were two groups of people walking in front of and behind me. I could walk faster or slow down to join either of them. I could listen on their conversation and laugh. I could even put in a few words. But that was it. Nothing more. I’d still be left standing alone in front of my locker. The rest of the day flew by as a mere blur. Another mark on the everlasting school calendar. After the final bell rang I was the first to leave the building. The first to hug my mom. I didn’t have to bother with afterschool chats. Soon the classic school question fell on my ears.

“How was your day?”

“It was good.” I told her with a smile. “It went the same as yesterday.”

And the day before. And the day before. And the semester befo-

“I’m glad to hear it.”

I relaxed into my seat and stared out of the window. My phone chimed. I faint smile lit up my face as I fumbled in my backpack for it. I opened my text messages. A lone number sat at the top. But it was all that mattered. My only BFF texted me. I clicked on her message.

“What’s up Ore? How’d it go today? Did you get to check out that youtuber I told you about?”

We didn’t talk long. But it was enough. Warmth filled me inside and out as real laughs escaped from me.

Did I ever tell her how much I rely on her texts?

---

I tucked my phone away once we arrived at home. I hugged my little sister, Erin, before trudging up the stairs to my room. My backpack didn’t quite make it. I dropped it about halfway up. My whole body ached for the comfort of my bed. I decided to play a random app until dinnertime. As I flopped onto my bed, phone in hand, I felt a lump underneath me. I sat up and reached for whatever it was behind me. I pulled out an average sized fox plush.

“Where did you come from?” I asked it, dropping my phone onto the comforter as I looked it over. The toy was covered in soft, orange-red fur and had the traditional white tipped tail of its kind. Its shining glass eyes held my gaze so that I didn’t even flinch when I heard my phone go off again. The fox was simply beautiful. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. The only thing that made me drop it in shock is when it started to speak.

I, Oren Henders, must be going mad.