Monday morning, six weeks after his suspension, Larkin was treading down the familiar path through the courtyard to school. That is, it would be familiar if he was actually looking around at his surroundings, but really, after having been at the school, sentenced to juvenile detention for six years (well really it was indefinitely but turned out six years was enough) then coming back only to be suspended for six more weeks, well there really wasn't much he wanted to look at here. The gum wrapper he'd found on his previous first day back was in his jacket pocket, safe there nice and cozy, and he was having a beautiful conversation with his little friend as he plodded along at an easy gait. It was much easier to talk to his friendly wrapper than to make eye contact or focus on looking at anyone else. The conversation about the wrapper losing his friend and being discarded into the grass was more interesting and easier to think about than any looks people gave him as he passed. He wished he could just hit a button and turn invisible, fake people out in thinking he wasn't there so he could more enjoy himself.