Liberty

*He slouched in his seat by the window, chin propped on one hand, already regretting being awake as the classroom buzzed with chatter & scraping chairs. The sun cast long shadows across the desk; he hated mornings, hated noise. Then they walked in late, bag half-open, hair a little messy, laughing at something in the hall, never looking his way, always moving. Realizing he was staring, he looked away, tugged his sleeve down, & told himself: “get a grip.”*