You sit in a crowded school auditorium.  Beside you sits that weird kid that you’ve never talked to, the one that has blonde dreadlocks and freckles and headphones that always echo a reggae beat.  You inch over a little, closer to the empty seat beside you.  You’re waiting for your friend, which is an explanation for the empty seat.  It’s always awkward saving seats during school assemblies.  

The lights dim, guiding the focus of the room to the platform at the front.  Nobody pays attention.  The room is a cluster of voices, loud enough to hear but interrupted too much to understand.  You catch small clips of conversations but don’t really listen.  Most of them are high school gossip.  Finally a figure approaches the stage.  A few faces turn, those that haven’t been talking about that boy in their second period class, you turn.  It’s just the awkward boy that hovers around the teachers, with Woody Allen glasses and a stutter.  He fiddles with wires before shuffling offstage.  

Your friend still isn’t there.  You inch further away from the kid with dreadlocks.  Soon the assembly will actually start.  You can tell because the room is louder with students trying to squeeze in the last bit of their story before the principal taps his microphone.  Your friend still isn’t there.  You look weird with the empty seat beside you.  Weirder than the dreadlocks kid?  It doesn’t matter, because once again the lights are getting dimmer. The principal saunters on stage and taps his microphone. 

P.S. I look like this when dancing to this song.  You should too.