Daisies bloom from his eyes. I feel them stare at me. Coquette and coy, their siren call lures me in like a pale light from a distant pier. His fingers weave through his hair, creating and destroying the quasi-wave patterns that swirl through it. He’s always on the move, flitting gently between groups of adoring friends and skateboarding in the halls. I wish I could be like him, even just for an instant. Surfing through life on a wave of magnetic charisma and carefree laughter. Soon I will have some idea. At least how it feels to wear his decorated skin.