(Revised post. I hope this one meets with more approval.)

Lukas went over to the fire pit, and plopped down on one of the logs. With a thump, his bag left his back and fell to the dry earth. Even this far north from his home in Oxnard, the sun was capable of beating mercilessly down on the people below. With an arm, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and nose. Hopefully, he'll just blend in with the crowd.

Yet, unfortunately, some wishes were not to be granted. A chipper voice rang out from behind him, startling him from his little introspections. "Umm . . . uhh . . . " Lukas stammered, trying to keep up with the girl's sentences. He has never claimed to be the quickest mind. "I'm . . . I'm Lukas," he said, extending his hand to shake. Did she ask for his name? He can't recall. Still, it's probably safest to start this way.