**_I was what you_** would call a normal average joe.

Nothing special about me at all.

I was blunt, had an all around flat personality, and in a group of friends who were the average of highschool. I was blocky with the average size, a boy who wasn’t skinny or fat, just large. An African-American with a shaved head and a freckle in my eye and on my top lip.

I lived with my grandparents and their friend, Miss Smith. My parents loved each other, as friends, and went around the world together, forgetting that they still had divorce papers to sign.

I lived in an average town. Not too small, not too big. People stayed in their groups. No one at school looked at me too much, or ignored me completely. They often waved; they often didn’t. I was just _there_.

See, nothing special at all.

And I liked it that way.

I really did.

**_“Sooo, Walden…”_**

“What?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

My three friends stared at me eagerly. Lance with his always excited brown eyes and overgrown hair. Maddy with her bushy eyebrows and pixie cut. And Darl peeking at me through his black bangs.

I shrugged. I was twelve with nothing to do, but this seemed the appropriate answer. I didn’t know the future.

They all groaned and Lance went as far as thudding his head on the table. “We should’ve guessed you’d say that.”

“He says it all the time, Lance, we _knew_.” Maddy smiled at me and patted my hand. “Walden _is_ Walden.”

Then they continued their conversation, Darl nodding when it mattered, and I was left staring at my mush of sloppy joe, finding it strange I didn’t feel happy about being so predictable.

**_I sat down on _**the futon in our living room, leaning over to our low table to finish up the rest of my homework. My grandpa shuffled into the room, cane in his hand and a permanent frown on his face. My face. It seemed I got all my facial structure from him.

I didn’t think I’d look like him when I grew older though. We lived different lifestyles.

“Don’t you got friends, boy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then where the _hell_ are they!”

“Out somewhere.”

“So, why are ya’ still here?” His shaky voice was starting to raise. He lifted his cane into the air as to make himself larger and intimidating. He reminded me of an animal at that moment; I’d forgotten the name though.

I lifted my papers. “I have ho—“

Grandpa slammed the papers back to the table with the end of his cane. “Get out and do something! Ya’ hear me! Ya’ can’t stayed holed up in ‘ere for the for the rest of your life. You ain’t a rock, boy.”

I stood and stacked my papers neatly. “Yes sir.”

**_I was near the_** edge of town when I realized they never said where they were going. I couldn’t go back, though, Grandpa said he wouldn’t let me in until eight tonight. I sighed, then leaned my rusty bike against the thick oak of a tree. The woods were behind me, and it felt as though it was whispering to me in the wind.

I blinked, then shook my head. That’s not average. And I was average. I, Walden Jones, was average.

“Why are you just standing there?” A voice said above me.

I looked up as saw a boy in the trees. “Hello.”

“Why aren’t you asking me why I’m up here?” I couldn’t see him fully because of how high he was, but I could see his shoes. They were white and dirty.

What kind of person wore white shoes in the woods? They looked expensive too.

“That’s your own business.”

“Really?” He sounded like he was smiling. His voice gave his age away. It was young and preppy with that cheeky, innocent lip. I wondered if I ever sounded like that when I was younger.

I probably didn’t.

“I like you. What’s your name.” It was more of a demand than a question.

“I’m not telling my name to a stranger.”

He grunted and the branch above me shook. A few seconds later, there was wide violet eyed boy with twigs and leaves stuck in his blond, almost white hair, in front of me. His shirt was a nice hue of green, the collar stained with brown and open. His khaki pants where in the same state, but he didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, his skin crinkling at the edges of his eyes, and he bowed.

“Lavender Polcock, has graced you with his presence.”

I said the first thing that came to my mind. “You sound like a snob.”

“And you smell like cinnamon. Well, really a sticky cinnamon bun. You know? The ones that are hot and melt in your mouth and are sooo good that you just _have_ to lick your fingers afterword. My mom always tells me that that’s impolite. I lick them anyway when she’s not looking.”

“Oh.”

Lavender cocked his head, then touched my wrist. “What’s your name, Cinnamon Bun?”

“It’s not that.”

“I know, that’s why I asked.”

“Walden.”

“That’s your name?”

“Yes, why else would I say it?”

“_You_ sound like a snob.”

“And _you_ smell like mud.”

Lavender harrumphed, crossing his arms as he lifted his head and tried to look down at me. Of course, I was two times his height, so he couldn’t achieve that. “For your information! I _like_ dirt. And chickens. I really, _really_ like chickens.”

“Okay.” I didn’t understand why he was still talking. I got my bike back in my hands to try and show him I wanted to leave. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care because he kept talking.

“I don’t live here, Wally. Can I call you that? Man, you smell like _cold_ cinnamon buns now—you don’t like that name, do you? I’ll call you Walden. I came here with my family to visit my cousins for some “Acension Ceremony” or whatever. My mom tried to dress me up, but you see how that’s going. It was sooo stuffy in there and this collar was choking me. I thought I was going to die! And— Hey, where are you going?”

“I…want to go home, Lavender.”

Lavender shivered with what looked like glee. “Oh, _oh_! Can you say my name again. Please?”

“No. It’s getting dark. I have to go back home and you have to go to your family.” I hopped back on my bike, ignoring Lavender’s sad face. This—whatever this was—was not what an average person like me should get into. Whatever went on with rich folk didn’t matter to me. I was Walden Jones, an average boy who lived an average life in his average town. Just Walden.

Lavender whined. He stepped closer to me and grabbed my hand. “Don’t be sad, Wally—I mean Walden. I’m sorry if I talk too much. My sister says I do, so I’m sorry. Don’t leave yet.”

I stood there for a second, staring into his eyes and wondering why I wanted to leave.

**Why would you want to leave this boy alone in the forest? He wanted to be with you so why go?**

I shook my head and pushed him away, heart thudding with an emotion I couldn’t name. “Don’t—don’t—“

I never finished, and got my feet on the pedals and flew back home. Away from Lavender. Away from whatever just happened.