Sticky went to his next class with his head down. He wasn't about to start paying attention to anyone. He had music theory next. That should be fun, right?
Sticky smiled. "I'd lose it." He whispered. Either that, or he'd end up with it without the slightest clue of how he acquired it. "You should keep it. So it doesn't get lost."
Sticky smiled. "That's nice." He failed to mention that his mom would slap him senseless if he did something like that. His brothers would beat him up pretty good as well. He played drums in the basement of the apartment building so as not to provoke them. "Your Oma sounds very caring." @Arya Barnes
"Or simply Paint." Sticky muttered. He didn't want to tell her that he was really called Sticky because of his kleptomaniac tendencies. "But I like the name Sam."
"It's a n-n-nick-nickname, yeah." Sticky stuttered. "B-be-because I play d-drums. I always have my drumsticks on me." Sticky said softly. She mentioned lunch and he smiled. "Y-yeah, that sounds nice."
(I'm gonna stop writing in the stutter, it's annoying me. Just imagine that I've written it...
Gale smiled at her. She was nice. A little flirty, but nice. He looked at the notes and smiled. Nice, but he didn't really need them. He was planning on dropping out, and in order to do that he needs to fail. Gale dug through his backpack to find a piece of lined paper.
I'm Gale. Nice to meet...
Gale took of his headphones. Is it okay to hear now? Yes. He let out a sigh and went to math. There's that girl again, the one who was wearing dance clothes earlier. He sat in the back of the class, trying desperately to pay attention. He just couldn't. Math is boring.
Sticky went to his next class, putting on his earbuds as he walked to class. He played his music loudly, like he normally does, and kept his eyes on the ground. History. This was going to be... interesting. His schedule was not ideal. Speech Therapy, History, then Math. It was going to be a...