Finn was always the less charismatic twin. While Jack seemed to be a people person, Finn found himself uncomfortable in crowds and he often wandered off to be alone. It was recess time and while all of his fellow students ran around on the playground, Finn sat on a bench just outside of the gate reading a book. It was what he always did, trying his best to finish as many chapters as he could within the fifteen minutes of playtime.
He was halfway through his second chapter when he felt something hit the back of his head. In confusion he reached for the back of his head and felt dirt crumbling at his fingertips. As he turned toward the source it happened again - several clumps of dirt hitting his face followed by the laughter of young boys. “You got him!” was shouted from the distance and there were high fives and cheers.
"Stop." His voice didn’t waver, but he also didn’t sound extremely confident. When he wiped the dirt from his face he could see his attackers: three boys from his class with dirty fingers and shit eating grins. They got closer to him, one grabbing onto the white collar of his uniform shirt. He knew that would need washing later.
"What’s wrong, Finnegan? Can’t handle a little dirt?" And honestly he couldn’t. His face, the boys’ fingers, his shirt, all of the dirt in places where it shouldn’t be made a voice inside his head shout. He wouldn’t give the others the pleasure of knowing they were right. He kept silent and kept his expression blank, giving nothing more than a noncommittal shrug. That angered the boy and he shoved Finn and his book to the ground. More dirt on his clothes, in his hair, on his book. And he lost his place. He didn’t even try to stand knowing he’d only be pushed again. He didn’t react. "Come on. You know it’s bothering you."
"Not really." the young boy shrugged again and shook his head. But it was. And it didn’t stop bothering him even after his attackers got tired of their game and walked away. He remained stoic, going back to his book until his teachers told everyone to go back to class. He brushed off his pants and shirt, fighting off the tears that threatened to break his bravest face as he walked in the front of the line to go back to class.
— Hurting her feelings was unintentional. It was a simple question taken the wrong way, leaving the girl in tears and Finn confused. The whole situation confused him, in all reality. The desk was a mess of papers and poster board and while he couldn’t work in it, somehow his partner could. So he asked. “Are you usually this disorganized?” And she took offense. He could tell by the way her expression changed from attentiveness to confusion, then from confusion to hurt. He frowned at both himself and her. “No.. I phrased that wrong. I mean -” Having to explain himself and his motives was where things went wrong. He knew what he meant. He said what he meant to the first time. “You seem to be working just fine in this big mess. Is it something you’re used to?” And that didn’t make it any better. She got up from her seat and asked the teacher to go to the restroom, leaving Finn standing there not knowing fully what he’d done wrong. He watched her leave, then got to organizing the papers on the desk in a way that he could actually work with.
