They keep moving away.
You sat in your seat in Spanish class; the one named Santa Domingo, followed by ‘Isidora’. You technically could sit anywhere, but you sit there. The boy who had resided to your right now rises and leaves, muttering something under his breath. The girl next to him gives you a look. The next girl to walk in is asked to sit in the seat next to yours by what you presume is her friend.
She scrunches up her face at the sight of you and sits in the seat to her friend’s right.
They all hate me.
The previous day, the boy labeled Florida let you sit by him. Now he makes a point to sit by you again. He doesn’t talk to anybody much, just the teacher and to you when you say something.
He likes me, doesn’t he? Will he be my friend? He’s so sweet!
He checks the time towards the end. You ask if he has weekend plans. He flushes a little and shrugs.
You hope this is indicative of things to come.