Sure, he wasn't popular. Sure, he was scrawny. Sure, he had an oddly shaped head and was built like a toothpick. But by golly was he [i]not[/i] going to be pushed around by some girl who thought she was hot stuff! Courageous, he inhaled through his diaphragm so his chest poked out and he appeared bigger, then he bravely espoused:

"I'M A--" coward.
"Yeah, ... alright." He used the girl's carrier/trolley and pushed his luggage down the hallway toward the wafting scent of the pancakes, where several students and a few teachers appeared to have gathered. His bony, wanting legs pushed with a vigor surprising for one his size. Once he had the opportunity to depart from the luggage that had all but soured the first twenty minutes of his first day, he moved right for a plate and some silverware. And then he gorged.

No syrup, he liked his 'jacks straight. No knife, either--if he couldn't shovel the golden brown goodness down his throat in two bites, he wasn't fit to wear the heart-shaped bib currently tied around his neck. He'd have broken the symbolism of the heart--that is, his love for food. He was at peace for once. Perhaps he was just malnourished, but these pancakes altered his senses. They had to be laced with something. Is that what this place is? Just some big drug den? [i]That'd explain all this talk about 'magic.'[/i] He didn't have time to pontificate the implications of such a reality...

He had pancakes to finish! ...[i]Although come to think of it, that second girl was pretty cute, too.[/i]

[@Mr Allen J] [@Dodi do 900]