Chad Charles' birthday on Sunday, and a three day weekend that was likely going to be filled with pregaming, partying, and other suburban foolery. To most everyone he knew, this was a good thing. The [i]best[/i] thing even, short of a break a three day weekend was basically a holiday in and of itself to the school body. An excuse to think and do [i]anything[/i] but school, which was always welcome.

Unfortunately that thought felt nothing short of suffocating to Dexter these days. He wasn't sure why. He used to love look weekends and parties, but nowadays they were draining. Too many people, too loud of places, it became exhausting. Within his own mind he made a mental note to talk to his mother about it when he was having a day where he felt a little more motivated to enjoy the things that he used to enjoy again. Today he just wanted to get through school, do his best to ignore the dozen or so texts and Facebook notifications telling him about the same damn birthday party as if he hadn't been personally half-friends with Charles since they were in sixth grade. Dexter got it, he really did. These people cared about him and wanted him to be there, and he appreciated it, but after the whole event that was his freshman and sophomore years he was feeling less and less like they were genuine invites and more like he was being invited because it was the thing to do. Just like how expressing sympathy for his lost family members was seen as the [i]right[/i] thing to do when it was fresh and raw. [i]They didn't even know her.[/i] He had thought, [i]And most who did never even gave her the chance.[/i]

He hated that he empathized with Evelyn's myopic way of life, even if he felt things were less... transactional now. But it was hard to shake the thought. He had a lot of intrusive thoughts these days. One more thing to talk to his mom about about later. Right now he just wanted to run. The bell rang in slow motion. Everything was in slow motion and it was a perpetual fucking nightmare on days like this one. By the time some of the students were reacting to it and Titus was waking up, he had already gathered his stuff and was halfway out of the door. He had been the first one out the door of the school and into the car line pretty much every day since sophomore year. He didn't really talk to anyone, and frankly he was okay with that. On his way, he had half a mind to double back and catch Willow on her way out to give her the Kitty Pryde sticker he got for her when he went to buy the latest edition of the Flash Rebirth series, but thought better of it. He needed to blow off some steam. Dexter threw his book bag into his car and practically jumped into it. As excited to start the weekend as the rest of the school but for entirely different reasons.

Afternoon on the river was beautiful, as always. The spectrum of colors reflecting on the water brought a desperately needed sense of peace, or at least, as much as one could appreciate while moving forty miles an hour. The tranquility and the song of nature as it could only be experienced here was exactly what he was after. Initially running on the trail instead of Ted and Ted's had been to do something new and exciting, but lately Dexter had found it akin to an escape. A way to forget life and find a place that didn't remind him of anything anymore.

That was, until he found himself too caught up in his zen and stopped paying attention, and his foot caught a particularly large rock. When Dexter suffered those horrible two years with his mom, he learned that a select few would be there for them when he fell- the ground being a very familiar acquaintance and as disliked as it had ever been. He tumbled, and scuffing his clothing and cutting the exposed skin on his arms and hands. As he rolled, subjected to the very forced of nature that he himself had generated in an effort to escape his own thoughts, it struck him that this had happened enough times that he should probably invest in some sort of protective equipment before he managed to lobotomize himself. Dexter finally skidded to a stop, and it was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't taken out a tree or another runner. He was lucky that it had been on a straight away, if he had been on a bend perhaps he'd have ended up in the river. Dexter laughed and then coughed, exhaling a solid amount of dust and sat up on one arm to inspect the damage. He was thankful he was as tough as he was, otherwise the moderate amount of scuffs, scratches, and bruises would probably be a whole lot worse. He'd be feeling it by Sunday, well, the first half of Sunday. He probably would feel numb enough to fight god by Sunday night. Speaking of which...

He procured his phone, which was a Nokia N97. Most of his peers had iphones or Blackberries or whatever, and he probably would too if they were anywhere near as invincible as the old brick in his hands. He tabbed through his contacts, ignoring various messages and texts until he found the only conversation he had in which he had never received much of a reply.

> To: Willow Dendry - Charles' party on Sunday?

Fuck it. Good enough. Dexter dropped his hand in the dirt and was content to sit for another couple minutes. Hopefully by then the adrenaline would wear off and he'd feel if he fucked up his ankle before he attempted to walk on it like last time. Hopefully nobody else would decide to come through the trail and find him doing his best hobo cosplay.[hr]

Being big had it's perks.

One one hand, you generally got what you wanted. In Henry's case, Scratch and the Pig stopped harassing him as soon as he returned to school in 9th grade, because now he could quite literally pick them up and make them kiss if he wanted to (not that he's sure one of them wouldn't be opposed to it), but it also meant that people generally got out of your way when you're passing through. Or at least, they tried to. If he were a meaner person, he'd be thoroughly annoyed with the fact that [i]someone[/i] would trip on his tail at least once a week without fail... but he wasn't. He [i]liked[/i] that people liked him now. These days in high school had been some of the most fun in his life. Sure, it got tiring replying to messages here and there and he definitely felt a little bad when he had to cut some people for the sake of his own mental health but after he got too drunk and started bragging about the catfish that one time, he had been really trying to be better about sorting through the people that were after [i]something[/i] and the people that just wanted him around. He was still pretty bad about it, truth be told, but he was a work in progress.

[b]"My man,"[/b] Henry said, a smile gracing his features as he gently socked his meteor fist into the only person in school who would feel it as the friendly gesture that it was- Titus McArthur. Titus was a mountain of a young man, and probably the only person in school who [i]got[/i] Henry in ways that other people in school didn't. He wasn't sure if Titus considered Henry a friend because the boy seemed to be as volatile as he was strong at times, but they had picked lockers next to one another for the past two years now. They were both big and hamfisted. It was hard to maneuver the tiny lockers with their size, and there was a sort of unspoken code between the both of them that whoever was there last would wait their turn. Apparently the more normal sized kids would try to squeeze their hands into their locker and either violate personal space or accidentally get their hands crushed when Titus was pulling books out. The poor kid had received quite a few visits to the admin office for injuring someone in this way.

Henry got that. When he first arrived back at school he was still unused to maneuvering small spaces at his size. He hurt a couple people too, but he was a bit more gracious about it than Titus had been. People regarded him a bit nicer as a result, but Henry [i]got it[/i], and never held it against his massive acquaintance. Henry saw Titus speed up his attempts to extract his books out of politeness to get out of the way, and knowing that bent metal was in the future, he spoke up before Titus caused any property damage. [b]"I've got my stuff, heading to work after school. Just wanted to say hi. Hopefully see you Sunday at Chad's party, dude."[/b]

Unfortunately, Henry hadn't been paying attention when he stepped away, and felt the familiar bump of another student's body weight against him. Fortunately though, it was close enough to his arm that he was able to shoot out his forearm and steady that new sophomore girl he had seen around that had just moved to the school. [b]"Sorry, about that."[/b] Henry said, trying to his embarrassment. He heard her mutter some thing about it being okay and rushing off into the crowd of people flustered. It happened, he knew it happened, but a part of his mind flashed to all the YA novels and movies he had read where someone bumps someone and then they bond over the spilled books. He knew that would probably never happen, but he had a sort of game plan ready anyways:
[i]1. Ask her about sports. Make fun of yourself for being athletically challenged and never being in the competitions?

2. Accidentally drop walkman while walking with her and see if she picks it up: she looks at it, is seduced by your music taste, and falls in love with you. FOOLPROOF.

3. Tell jokes. Find out if she likes math: if yes, "when you put root beer in a square glass you get beer."

4. She has a dog: reaffirm that you are NOT a cat person (easy)

5. Also keep sisters faaaar away from her

6. Trash-talk Evelyn YEAH

7. Don't embarrass yourself… let her do most of the talking[/i]

He's on his way out of the school and ducking his head under the door, considered adding number 8, [i]actually let her do ALL the talking[/i], and overhears Scratch shout something about stars. Willow and his cousin are sorting to head off in Willow's car (He wished he could ride), and knows he best be off to Saturday and be ready to hear an earful about Iron Man 2 and the speculation about the upcoming Thor movie. Who'd have thunk that Chris Hemsworth was in the running? He considers shooting a text to someone to keep him company until he's off, but finds himself falling short of who he'd even message. Lots of party invites, very few 'how are you's'. He tries not to think about it. He makes it to Saturday half an hour early as he always does, clocks in, pops on his headphones, and makes himself busy organizing comics that various people have failed to return to their rightful places.