I plopped down next to him in home room, “Hey Drew!”
He didn’t turn or acknowledge me, but I knew he’d heard me because he tensioned slightly. I went into Psychology mode, deciphering his body language.
“Did you sleep well? I know I didn’t. New bed, you see? Not used to it.”
He tensioned slightly, a funny look crossing his face. On his desk, his thumb ran across his palm in an abstract movement. I focused on his hands for a second and found what he’d touched. There was a small raw and red scratch there: obviously new. I pursed my lips, thinking, “You didn’t sleep well either? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, really.”
He turned his face away from me to look out the window. I glanced at his iPod, wishing I could see what he was listening too. Oh well, I guess the direct approach was all I was left with, “So what are you listening to?”
Silence. Slight tensing of the shoulders and neck, fists clenched (with a small wince). So the music was painful? Interesting. I wondered if Drew was masochistic.