Around the hallway corner came the sound, the rhythmic *whack* *whack* *whack* of shoes upon the linoleum floor, that heralded the arrival of someone more spaghetti noodle than man. Then around the corner came the looming form of Slim Jim Bacon, walking at a pace that would outstrip most runner, with his dangling hair bouncing uuuup and doooown with every footfall. People saw him coming and got out of his way.

Jim didn't demand they move from his path. In fact, it made him uncomfortably self-conscious when they did. He just as well like if they just stayed where they were and let his step over them, which is how his friends back in Stone River had dealt with being in his way, but here it seemed like they were determined to be put out and make him feel rude.

In this manner he made his way to homeroom. He always made his way to class as soon as the doors where open, stopping just long enough to stow his umbrella in a locker, on the off chance that someone decided to jump the gun and start teaching early. This had never happened before, but if it did he wouldn't miss a thing. Besides which, he needed that time to negotiate the tricky prospect of seating. He claimed the desk at the very back, farthest from the window, and took hold of it with both hands with a firm grip. Then his legs, like octopus tentacles, rose up off the ground and pulled out the seat. They folded underneath him and let himself drop down into the seat, sitting on his legs as the remaining length folded over the back of the seat and dangled behind him. 

This was the best way for him to sit. When he'd tried to sit normally, on his butt, his legs had either splayed out to his sides and got in peoples way or rolled out in front under the desk in front of him. Satisfied with his sitting arrangement, he pulled out a textbook and started going over the math that he'd learned yesterday just to make sure he had it down.