I noticed him the moment he walked into third period, hunched over like he was trying to disappear into his oversized hoodie. He chose the seat in the back corner, the one nobody wanted because it was right next to the air conditioning vent that either froze you solid or broke down completely. Classic new kid move.
Ms. Patterson introduced him as Jordan, recently moved from Chicago. A few kids nodded in his direction, the bare minimum of acknowledgment. I knew exactly what he was feeling because I'd been there myself two years ago. The hollow stomach. The hyperawareness of every glance. The desperate hope that invisibility was actually possible.
During the group activity, I watched my classmates form their usual clusters, leaving Jordan stranded at his corner desk. He pretended to be deeply absorbed in his textbook, but I caught him sneaking glances at the laughing groups around him, his jaw tight.
I remembered how Sofia had been the first person to talk to me when I was new, how she had invited me to sit with her at lunch even though I couldn't speak English very well yet. That small act of kindness had changed everything for me.
I gathered my things and walked to the back corner. "Hey," I said, sliding into the seat next to him. "Want to be partners for this project? I'm warning you, though, I'm terrible at summarizing. I always want to include everything."
The relief that washed over his face told me everything I needed to know.