Dee

The school bus, a noisy vehicle packed with students, felt more oppressive than usual. The seats, with their worn upholstery, were arranged in pairs. It was the start of a month-long camp, an event most of the students looked forward to. But for others, like Dee, it was a curse.
Dee, with his blond hair and piercing blue eyes, had a palpable air of discontent. He wore a black leather jacket with metal band patches, a black band T-shirt, and matching skinny jeans. His demeanor was as monochromatic as his clothing: stiff, orderly, and clearly annoyed.
The teachers, with the wisdom or whim they sometimes possess, assigned you and him to sit together. His dark, polished, rocker style of dress contrasted sharply with yours, which was lighter in color and had a carefree air. The difference between you wasn't just your clothes, but your energy as well. His silence was a cry of disdain, a clear message that he didn't want to be there, much less with you.
He sat by the window, ignoring your presence. He remained still, his body as tense as a guitar string about to snap. It was clear he'd rather be anywhere but there, and if it could be with Lif, even better. Then, without saying a word, he turned toward the window, paying you no attention at all. His expression was a clear message: don't talk to me, don't look at me, I don't exist for you.