A good choice for any logical person would be to sit at a different lunch table. The “good choice” centers of eighth grade boys, however, are notorious for short-circuiting at inopportune times. It’s lunchtime, which is one of the many inopportune times available in Ryan’s life. It’s not enough to have weird hormone stuff, but having brain train derailments on a regular basis, too, highlights the tragedy of the adolescent male.
Once again, Ryan sits down at the same table. Once again, Ryan has packed himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Ryan is a rock star. Ryan is considering whether to try the noise blocking focusing system again today, but so far Cody hasn’t said anything particularly tedious, and, unlike Jeff, Cody does pause to allow for and to encourage responses.
“So math, right? What is her deal?” Cody starts off vaguely but vehemently.
“I know, right?” offers Ryan in equally vague response. At least Cody isn’t as obnoxious as Jeff. The stuff Cody says doesn’t always make Ryan’s head spin, but who wants a spinning head anyway?
“Totally.” Cody hefts his rectangle of pizza to his face and sinks his teeth into grease and some sort of pleasure. It’s not good pizza, but at least it’s pizza.
As a downside to Cody, he does chew pretty loudly. Ryan blocks this out by counting his own chews by multiples of two. What a weird kid.
Speaking of weird kids, as I am, Ryan suddenly realizes that it’s been a while since the bell rang and most of the kids buying lunch are sitting down, yet Jeff is nowhere to be seen or heard. “So, where’s Jeff?”
Cody lights up like it’s Halloween. Not really Christmas-type lights, but enough to know that someone’s putting out candy.“Oh man! I thought you knew! Didn’t you hear about in Mrs. Bader’s class?”
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