[center][h1][b]Lucas Bray[/b][/h1][/center]
[hr]

Slip sliding scratching scrape of scrambled sound. A sallow streak scored sharp and sudden snapping across solid slate. Watching the letters shaping themselves from the voices sounding out beside him—the people who were willing to speak up, anyway—Lucas didn’t bother to find his voice with them. But he did find himself growing the slightest bit more interested in the story, the words, the context behind each. The bottle had stopped spinning again, and he was sitting a little straighter as he sifted through his own thoughts on the matter. He still wasn’t exactly invested in the answer, but he was picking up and picking out the words he felt fit while the teacher elaborated on every point. The arrows made it even better, as did the realization that whatever he said might not even matter, as long as it settled somewhere in the loop of drawn out white lines. 

Didn’t mean he planned on saying anything.

So, Jonas’ eyes turning to him directly startled him into sinking back in his seat.  His head ticked sideways, not quite refusing the request as he stared at the desk with his mouth twitching nervously between a sorry smile and an almost mutter. [b]“It’s not their heads I’m-…. [sub]thinking in.[/sub]”[/b] Ha! Saved by the bell! Well, door. And tardy student. He finished his answer in an actual mutter, since the words were coming out anyway, but he didn’t expect anyone to be listening. It was only a matter of us and them, and he wasn’t so certain anymore.

Lucas stayed tuned in for the rest of the teacher’s words, but he didn’t look up again until a bit of paper slipped under his nose. Warm, shaking print and the grating grain drawn over each other into thin, thin air. He was happy to let it settle on the desk beside the untouched passcard, glancing over the straight sideways lines of an unfamiliar cipher before looking around as he heard ‘into groups and write…” Worse than class discussion.

Turning to strangers and learning to trust in trouble meant smiling through eyerolls and sighing out of patience. Bottle tucked away and one hand hovering over the paper as he turned from Miss Dahl’s encouraging smile to the other students, Lucas’ thumb found its way to his mouth where he caught the nail sideways in his teeth and bit down. Pressure treated. Good distraction. No one looked happy about it, though some looked less unhappy than others. Well, he didn’t know anyone. Though he recognized one kid from another class, blonde Bobby in a little girl’s voice. Maybe? No. Her? Already picked. Oh. 

The boy dressed up for a dressing down was the first his searching settled on who was still looking around. First man up, he thought, started the talk, so he could continue the trend? Pausing to meet his gaze, Lucas offered him a half-hearted smile by way of invitation, preferring not to move but thinking maybe he should, so it was really a contest of wills and that meant he wasn’t going to win unless the other guy gave it to him. But picking out placement played second fiddle to picking out peers.

Second discovery was closer to home behind him. Only two rows over. Red lips and calmer hair… She didn’t look like she wanted anyone to see her. Maybe no one else had. Twisted in his chair, he tried to remember where voices had come from before now—easier said than done—and wondered if she’d stayed quiet, too. Well, she didn’t have to speak up now, just look like she was in on it. He didn’t want to do this either. That thought, giving them a common trouble, had Lucas smiling a little wider her way. 

Were they all the leftovers?