kick off your sunday shoes // task
Bryce sat at the desk near the front of the classroom with his fingertips drumming on top of the wood while his eyes fixated on his teacher who was sitting behind his desk, looking through the year before's papers to collect names, the highest grades and learn a bit about his glass.
It was Bryce's first day of middle school, and he was nervous; he was so much closer to graduating and getting out: making a name for himself even, and he was so anxious for it. So excited. He could only hope that the years flew by and he had a decent time - that he made these friends that he'd have the best memories with for when he grew older. When he was 45, he wanted to sit back and think about his days in school while his kids went and learned the things they'd need to build a good, great, future.
It was when the sound of books hit the desk beside him, did his attention pull - his eyes landing on a beautiful red-head who smiled at him and muttered a little, "Sorry" with a hint of a French accent. Bryce nodded and shrugged his shoulders a bit, his brunette hair falling in front of his face as he shifted. "No problem, miss," he said and she giggled, turning her attention back to the teacher before them.
The class started as normal - it was a math class, and - who really liked math, or paid attention to anything that went on, anyway? No one. Definitely not Bryce and Amelia - the girls named he learned that was seated beside her - as they passed each other notes; how they didn't get caught for being in the front of the class, he didn't know - he wasn't quite sure, but it worked.
Notes read words from Tell me about yourself to I was born in Paris... etc. In Bryce's mind, the pieces of paper - the notes, would be future memories. Even as their class together ended and they parted for an hour to go to a different room, only to meet up at lunch.
Immediately, Amelia had taken a spot next to Bryce, little giggles falling from her throat; her fingertips flirty as they grazed the side of his arms as she shifted herself a little closer.
And that was when the unthinkable happened.
No one would've thought that on the first day of school - that the principle, the teachers, and half of the high school students, would drop a pile of confetti on the middle schoolers as they ate their lunch; music blasting from the speakers and teens screaming and jumping up in down.
"Hope you've had the best first day ever!" a loud voice shouted over the room, through the speakers; a grin stretching across a teenagers Bryce's face as he looked at Amelia. Yes. Yes. He had definitely had the best first day.
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