“Uh, J-JHS.”
“Shame. XXNX Spry as ever. It smelled like cinnamon toothpaste. Had they been empty of smirking boys, the stands would have read S-S-A. He felt it too. Not unwelcome, just different. “You got quick feet.” The team captain said. My face is mostly pale with patches of brown skin that break up the whiteness like the tiny islands and archipelagos on a map. The rest of us, mostly, went to the training camp we hosted this last summer…so I we’ll have to catch you up during free periods then.” As the conversation continued, I was vibrantly aware of the fact of that hand didn’t leave his body. It was harmless ribbing though, because everyone just seemed to ignore him. Unlike the other, however, he was being washed by the two managers I met when they were given the task of showing me around and assigning
