"You look kinda like me," the tall, emo boy standing in front of me smiles.
It was true. We both had the same pair of pretty blue eyes, the same ears, and a few other things were similar. If only we didn't have to be introduced by me spilling Starbucks lattes on him clumsily.
"Yeah, and I'm really sorry," I mumble, gesturing to his coffee covered clothes.
"Don't worry about it," he replies.
He stares at me for a long moment, as if he's deep in thought. I start to gather up the spilled coffee cups and napkins to throw away and reorder.
"So who's your parents?" He asks.
"My dad's name is Richard Abrams, my moms name is Shannon Dontell," I answer.
I look up when I suddenly feel the silence bearing down. The guys' blue eyes lost a couple shades of it beautiful color, his skin became paler, and his breathing started to pick up speed.
"Did you say Shannon Dontell?" He whispers.
Slightly confused, I nod my head in answer. He looks me up and down with a thoughtful look, while popping his knuckles nervously.
"How old are you?" He murmurs.
"Thirteen," I answer.
This only makes him look even more sick, he's so pale and his eyes are losing their magnificent color. He quickly picks up his now cracked phone that fell out of his hands.
He shoves the phone in his back pocket carelessly, mumbles a frightened goodbye, and shuffles out of the small coffee shop without another word. Hm, weird.