The one thing I actually still cared about, was doing well in school. It was the only hope I had for any kind of future. Once I turned 18, I was free from the government and foster system, but I also had to fend for myself. My friends would be going off to college, and I needed to find a way to support myself.

And so, I concentrated on my math homework. Clay was sitting beside me, but seemed to have nothing to do except scroll through his phone.

He looked over at me again, for about the fifth time. I was uncomfortable, unsure of what was so interesting about me doing homework.

Suddenly, he piped up. "Did I, um, do something to make you mad?" He asked slowly.

I looked up, frowning. "Uh, no? Why?"

He seemed relieved. "Oh, nothing. You just always avoided me, even though I'm friends with your friends. You've even opened up to Nick a little, and I just thought..."

"Oh, sorry. I just keep to myself a lot, it's nothing personal," I replied, face burning a little.

"Okay, that makes sense. I've always wanted to get to know you, and now we're stuck here for an hour, so..."

I knew he was trying to be friendly, but I was panicking a little. It wouldn't hurt to become friends with him, but from what I could tell, he was super social. If he found out, and spread it around, I'd be horrified.

I looked at him, trying to get an impression of his personality. He seemed nice at first glance, and he was smart enough to earn the favourite of many teachers.

"Okay," I said hesitantly. "Sure, why not."

He grinned, suddenly a lot less shy and nervous. "Okay, for starters. You have a slight accent, are you British?"

"Yeah, I was born there, but we moved here when I was young, so it's pretty subtle now."

"It sounds nice," he commented. "I wish I could travel more, but I've lived here all my life."

"I mean, you suit the surfer boy stereotype at least," I laughed, referring to his fluffy blonde hair and tan skin. "I'm pale as snow, and burn super easily."

"That's true," he replied. I looked at him more, and noticed he had really bright eyes.

"What color are your eyes?" I asked.

"Green," he replied. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

"Oh, I'm colourblind," I said sheepishly.

His eyes widened. "Red and green colourblind? My dad is, too."

I laughed. "Weird coincidence."

He studied me some more, and then frowned. "You're really skinny, I just noticed."

I tensed up, unsure of how to reply. I'd heard that his parents were really rich, so I didn't blame him for the slightly insensitive comment, but now I was panicking again.

"Um, yeah. I'm just naturally thin, I guess," I laughed. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, and I turned away.

What was that?