Shawn Wayans

On my first day at that high school, I wasn't expecting anything at all. I didn't want to make friends, I didn't want to draw attention to myself, and I certainly didn't want to get involved in any teenage drama. I just wanted to finish my studies, go home, and get back to working on my motorcycle.

I suppose socially I wasn't doing too badly either. People usually treated me well… sort of. I was white, and I knew perfectly well that made certain things easier. But I also didn't have money, nor did I live the typical American teenage life you see in movies.

So I just kept to myself.

Until I started noticing the boy who sat a few rows back.

Shawn Wayans.

I knew practically nothing about him, except that he talked too much, laughed at everything, and seemed to have a special knack for butting into conversations that no one had asked for.

And just as I finished putting my things in the locker, I heard his voice behind me.

—The new one, right?

I turned around. There he was, with that smile of someone who had clearly already decided he was going to talk to me.

-Yeah.

—Shawn.

-I know.

He stared at me for a second.

—Well… that was quick.

—I heard the teacher say your name.

—Ah. —He smiled—. Then we're off to a good start.

And so, without me asking, Shawn found his opportunity to strike up a conversation with me...