Responsibility to friends was my greatest concern, yet I was both being irresponsible to one breed of friends and loyal to the next. The petty laws of teenage interaction refused to let you have cake and eat, though the not so petty laws of physics might object as well to the literal translation of that idiom. Regardless, and conscientiously regardless, I plowed on and sat at the table.
“Luke!” they cooed, high society pigeons. The glory of it was that I was too intelligent to be attractive, too kind to be bad ass, but just right to be liked. Everyone liked me. I greeted them and promptly immersed myself in their conversation. It was a deadly appealing and loftier brand of communication. Their thoughts went past saying things for laughs but saying things for expression. Their confidence made them certain that whatever they said would be considered, taken seriously, and replied to.
“That’s why I sat here,” I thought to myself, but the thoughts of why I shouldn’t have sat there itched.