•Charles POV•
"There's that soldier boy again..." I think bitterly to myself as I watch the short cocky boy.

He usually sits where he always sits, at the same old lunch table and usually eats the same old food, and laughs the some old chortle laugh with his snobby popular friends...

And yet he still some how manages to grab my attention.

But today the boy seems to be late. He doesn't saunter into the lunchroom with the other 'pack' of popular, sport nerds. Instead, he arrives quite late.

He scurries in with a stack of books clutched to both of his broad sides. And clambers onto his typical lunch table across from mine, he practically throws his stuff onto it, with a grunt. He has no lunch and he doesn't go straight to talking like his typical routine.
Today he goes straight to his books and opens one math book from the stack. Drags out a scientific calculator and lastly spreads out his pencil across the table.
He then looks down sadly at his work.
I stand up slightly from my lunch table seat to a squat, just enough to see his equations, and not enough for people to notice.

His math looks like algebra or geometry... Probably geometry pretty easy geometry though, looks about from 10th grade even.
Yet he still looks down at it with great frustration. To me the answers fly rapidly into my head like colours.
I slowly sit back down still peering at soldier boy as I go.

There's somethings about him that I can't quite put my finger on... He's different from the rest. Sure, he strides to fit in and be an annoying rugby player dickhead like everyone else. But, there's something else about him that just gives off a warm feeling in your tummy no matter, how much you want to hate him...
He doesn't laugh at the other boys crude jokes. Or take part in their mean, pushes and threats. He doesn't even crack a smirk at the name callings. But, he doesn't really stop them either....

I quickly snap out of it and shake my head and stare down at my lunch tray of frankfurters mixed with beans, and my one slice of buttered bread. Not my particular favourite but it isn't as bad as the mouldy green pea soup they serve...

I inwardly cringe as the taste of it enters my mind.

"Hey, Charles!" I suddenly hear from behind me, the voice belongs to my good friend Emma. She sits down abruptly next to me and pushes up her big rounded glasses, that covers her hazelnut eyes.
Her hair is a dark brown, cut into a short wavy bob. A swift round fringe hangs over her forehead, that she brushes away quite often.
She looks up at me with her usual cheery smile.
I look down at her tray, Frank's and beans as well, but instead cramped in between two buns.

"Hey Ems!" I say with a smile, she smiles back in return then begins to eat her odd frank and beans sandwich. The bean juice dribbles down her round chin, as she bites.
I sigh, and look down at mine, steam still curls slowly off, and oddly memorises me for a moment...
I soon enough find myself gazing back at soldier boy and his ginger, red, curly, hair...
The boy looks down confused at the problems below him. His pencil's eraser lightly drumming against his smooth temple. I chuckled to myself slightly.
"Looks like Mr. tough guy isn't as smart people think" I say to myself.
"Who's Mr. Tough guy?" Emma asks, as she whips her chin daintily with a napken.
I jump a bit not realising that I had just said that out loud...
"Oh-uh-um nobody...!" I stutter, as my cheeks begin to bloom red under my brown freckles. Emma looks at me for a minute with an eyebrow raised.
...
"What!?" I finally say.
"Just do it already!" Emma says with a cheeky grin.
"Huh? Do WHAT!?" I shout.
"Ask him out already!"
"Ask who out!?"
"Oh come on you know who!"
"No Emma in fact I don't know Wh-"
"Soldier Boy! Mr. Tuff guy!" She says cheekily, with a stupid grin smear across her round face.
I don't reply, but I can feel my cheeks burn even brighter.
"Roy!! Jamison Roy Ó HAdo-ahhoo- or ah whatever his last names is!!!"

I still don't reply.

"Oh For god's sake Charles do I need to spell it out!?" She laughs.

"It's pronounced O-hey..." I think bitterly to myself.

My eyes fill with embarrassment, why would I even care if she said his name wrong. Its not my freaking name.

I quickly flick my eyes to the side of my skull to see if Roy heard his own name.

Still were I left him, confused and frustrated as he 'tries' to get some homework done.

I turn back around.
"Shut up!" I whisper through my gritted teeth. She just cackles.

"Just do it!"

"No Emma! I can't just go walk up to one of the most popular Rugby players in all of the whole school and just straight out ask him on a bloody date! Are you mad!?"

"Why not?!

"Because, first of all! He's probably straight and only into fake hot chicks with makeup caked to their faces! And second of all! he's probably gonna humiliate the hell out of me if I even speak a word to him!"

"Why would he do that!?"

"Because, he's a self-centered, rich,jerk, who has never had to work for anything in his life! Just like all of the other popular pissers in this frickin' school!" I says bluntly and turn back to my food.

"I guess you do got a point..." Emma sighs. "But, nothing wrong with havin' a lil impossible crush sometimes..." She says with a smirk.

"Shut up, you git..." I reply quietly with a small grin.
She giggles.
I only soon discover that my views on Roy were about the wrongest thoughts I have ever had in my life...