Upon first glance, the table of individuals that Toby surrounds himself with have a distinctly different air about them than most of the other students in the room. There's a genuine enthusiasm to them, like they're actually happy to see one another. Though I can't make out their actual words over the tempest of voices that surround me as I walk through them, their exagerated movements and excited faces tells me that at the very least, the young optimist isn't alone.

Toby himself immediately notices me once I have entered the twelve foot radius of the table and makes no attempt to hide his eagerness to see me. Waving his hand in the air and calling out. "${firstname}! Over this way! I saved you a spot!"

It seems I've been invited.
*page_break Next
The tone of the table is much closer to the atmosphere seen in the movies depicting high school that I had watched previous to arriving here than my experience so far. The similarities are so uncanny that I would expect it to be a deliberate set up, though my instincts weren't giving me that impression.

"I'm glad you could make it!" Toby exclaims after I have taken my seat.

I'm not certain what exactly he means by 'made it.' While my highschool experience has been taxing, I would not call it life threatening. And besides, "We were all going to eat in this lunchroom."

"Well sure, but you could have sat next to anyone! I'm just glad you decided to come around!"
*if (dismiss =1)
	I decide it best not to inform him of my previous, failed attempt at joining a different table.
From this brief exchange, I can fairly solidly confirm that his friendly demeanor in first hour was not a fluke. If anything he seems even more energetic now than he did then, possibly meaning that even when struggling through the grogginess of the morning that these civilized people seem to get frequently, he was still more open than anyone I've met so far has been in their happiest moments. "Let me introduce you," he says as he turns to the rest of the table, gesturing toward me. "Everyone, this is ${firstname}! $!{he}'s the one I've been telling you about!"

*if ((york =true) or (travel =true))
	"How do you do?" I supply the appropriate social greeting. 

	In return I receive several of the standard replies. Three 'Hey there,' one 'great, how are you?' and one 'Hi.'

*if ((terrorist =true) or (no =true))
	Toby seems perfectly fine with introducing me himself, so I do not see any reason for me to speak up.

"These are my friends," Toby addresses me as he continues. Gesturing to different individuals as he names them. "Here we have Jason Jennings, Milford Cubicle, Patty Saint-Jermain, Austin Winston, and Penny Arcadia."

After the initial introductions it is the girl identified as Patty Saint-Jermain who opens up the next stage of communication. "So Toby has told us what he knows about you, but I'm still a bit curious. What kind of hobbies do you have?"

"I...exercise. And read."

"You don't say," says a fit young lad who was previously identified by Toby as Austin Winston. "I know a pretty good gym, maybe we could go together sometime. They give discounts to people who are invited by current members."

"Austin here is our resident athelete, you two should have plenty of things to talk about," says Toby, who seems to just be enjoying watching two groups of friends getting along.
*page_break Next

"What kind of training do you do?" Austin Winson seems determined to continue this line of dialogue.

"...Self defense."

"So, like Krav Maga? CQC?"

"...Something like that."

He seems thoughtful, "That explains why you don't have much of a build. That doesn't really make you strong. Lethal, but not strong. I highly recommend the gym deal."

"I like your accent," says Penny Arcadia. "It's really tough and no-nonsense. Where are you from?"

*if (york =true)
	"I think you said you were from New York, right?" Toby asks me, which coincidentally answers Penny Arcadia's question.

	"You don't say! My uncle Davey is from New York!"

	Of the group, Milford Cubicle is the only one who seems skepticle. "Don't mean to pry, but that doesn't really sound like any New Yorker accent I've ever heard."

	"Well there's no typical New Yorker, Milford," says Patty Saint-Jermain.

*if (travel =true)
	"I think you said you've traveled around a lot, right?" Toby asks me, rhetorically. "I guess it would just be kind of stitched together from a lot of different places."

	"Ever been to New York?" Penny Arcadia follows up, "I have an uncle in New York!"

	Now I have several individuals asking me if I've been to some place where they have a relative or used to live. "What about Canada? Actually, have you ever been out of the country?"

*if ((no =true) or (terrorist =true))
	"Just a place out of country," I explain. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

	"Well I like it," Penny Arcadia echoes herself, "So I guess you've traveled around a lot, huh?"

	"Have you ever been to New York?" Penny Arcadia follows up, "I have an uncle in New York!"

	Now I have several individuals asking me if I've been to some place where they have a relative or used to live.

"Guys, I think that's enough of the questions," says Toby, "Can't you see we're starting to crowd?"

Jason Jennings looks at me apologetically, "Right. Sorry about that. I guess we have a habit of getting carried away."
*page_break Next
I'm not asked any more trivia about my past after that. As the conversation goes on, I'm allowed to fill the roll of an observer to their energy and camaraderie. Not a complete observer, of course. Toby makes sure to make me feel included.

For the most part though, that's more or less how the rest of lunch went. It's not until that period of time that I start to really look at the people I am seated with. They're disorderly, rambunctious, nobody seems to want to sit still for too long. Talkative, too. By the last stretch, only two of them have actually finished their food. They clearly aren't in any kind of hurry. There's nobody forcing them along, no fear of being too late or of making a mistake. I wouldn't say they're at peace, that's not the word I would describe them with. Carefree.

I think that's the moment that it really became clear to me.

I don't belong here.

All these people are just living their lives, completely unaware of how bad it could be. There's more than just geography separating them from the world I came from. They may have an academic knowledge, but they don't actually believe in it. For them, this is their entire world. This freedom and belonging. They worry about all the petty little details of their lives because they can. There's nobody who's trying to stop them or control them or kill them.

Now I know what the other kids were talking about when they wanted to get away. They were looking for this.
*page_break ...
[i]They were trying to get away...
*page_break ...
[i]They were trying to get away...to this...
*page_break "Hey, are you alright?"
There's a hand on my shoulder.

For a moment there's panic until I trace the arm and see Toby's face. He's concerned. What was I doing?

"Are you okay?" He asks again, "You looked like you were in a trance. The bell rang a few minutes ago."

"...I see." There are four minutes in passing period. I've spent most of them. "I should go."

"Alright, I guess." He says, though the concern in his voice makes me think he is not as 'alright' with the situation as he claims. "Just take care of yourself. I'm really glad you decided to eat with us, it was great getting to know you!"

I don't know how to respond to that. So I don't.

We part ways after the exchange. To our own classes. Separate.

But for some reason, I feel a lot less alone.
*page_break Sixth hour...
*goto_scene 1-10sixth-1