She drops her chin in her hand and continues to look up at him. Her pencils teeters between her forefinger and thumb. "Pre-cal. And over there," she points with her pencil to her other open book with notebook, "is French." Neither of which are her best subjects. She nods though. "Yeah we get a lot of new students around here."

Sometimes she wonders if she's really clueless as to who she goes to school with, or if the faces do actually change every day. Either one could be possible with her.

"Walking has it's moments, but I prefer to drive. Or take my bike." And by bike she doesn't mean something with two wheels and a bell. In fact there is a small motorbike parked along the curb not far from where they are, in perfect view of her table.