Toby sat by himself at the lunch table furthest back. The boy was almost always alone outside of classes, he didn’t have any friends. People often made fun of him for talking to himself or for his tics and stuttering. They all thought he was crazy.

He had a gash on his cheek from biting on it so often. It didn’t bother him since he couldn’t feel it.

Sometimes the other boys would shove him around and hit him, just trying to see if they could make him feel pain, but it never worked. Even though his real name was Tobias Rogers, people called him ticci toby on account of his tics to make fun of him.

His life at home wasn’t much better either, his father was an abusive drunk and his sister had died in a car crash.

Your friends advised against it, saying it was a bad idea and saying the boy was insane, but you decided to go sit at his table.

He looked up from his lunch tray. He was always wearing that same brown and gray hoodie and those gloves to keep himself from biting his skin off. His fingers tapped against the table, waiting for you to say anything, to taunt him or bully him.

When a moment passed and you hadn’t, he spoke up. “Wh- what?” he stammered, his head twitching. It made a cracking noise when it did.