To belong at a lunch table was all he wanted. The deprived simple pleasure of just lazing around the cafeteria with that special group of friends, laughing and talking about nothing, with other buzzed conversations going on around him, held a very special place in his heart. On this particular day, his empty corner of the table was looking more bare than usual. There was a group of girls who quietly sat at the other end, but they left him alone and usually had their heads down close around one of their phones. His brown backpack sat perched, slightly open, on the chair next to him and his usual turkey and cheese sandwich lay untouched under a neatly folded napkin. It was a fact that there was nothing particularly special about crowding around the dull gray table tops and the always sticky blue chairs with a group of people, but he craved it nonetheless. He didn’t really need much, even to just sit there and listen would be enough for him. But of course, he saw the way people at this school looked at him. The way everybody looked at him. At first, their eyes only lingered for a moment before flitting away, but then returned, this time with an unforgiving stare, when they thought he wasn’t looking. He knew his speech was unclear and fragmented. He knew that he had a prominent scar on the side of his bare head. He knew that his movements were slow and unsteady. But it seemed like people were almost afraid of him, like they saw him as some sort of being that wasn’t fully human and preferred to hold him away safely at an arm’s length. Every prolonged stare and rejected attempt at conversation over the years slowly built up in him, turning a part of him into a dusty, empty space. Triumphantly he decided that today was not the day for giving up; he had fought battles far worse than a high school cafeteria, and nothing could stop him.

For a few weeks now, he had been observing this table that was close by his vicinity. A small group of guys sat there every day, and they seemed to be approachable enough. Their lunch period usually consisted of a friendly, slightly heated argument, though he usually wasn’t close enough to hear what it was about. He hoped it was about something he knew, like a TV show or maybe a type of movie. He didn’t know much about sports. One boy he watched particularly closely wore the same striped gray sweatshirt every day, dark hair lazily tousled. Today the boy was casually sitting back in his chair, lazily spinning a half empty bottle of soda in his hands. After taking a few minutes to gather up his courage, he finally swallowed his fear and proudly made his way to the table, heart beating wildly in his chest. As he approached, the group of guys looked up at him expectantly, staring at him with unreadable expressions in their faces. He took one look at all those faces and froze, suddenly debating whether or not to turn back and step comfortably back into his normal routine, but he pushed it back and cleared his throat.

“Hi, I’m Daniel. Can I sit with you guys?”

He cringed a little. His voice sounded even raspier and uneven than usual. There was a moment of silence at first, and one of the boys sitting in the corner looked hesitant, but the boy in the gray sweatshirt responded to him, scooting over slightly.

“Sure, okay.”

It was only two simple words, but immediately a rush of joy and immense relief ran through him and a gleeful smile filled up his face as he pulled the chair out and took a seat. That lunch period seemed to fly by in a blur of excitement and awe. The conversation ranged high and low, covering homework, sports, and last night’s episode of The Walking Dead. He proudly contributed two points in the conversation, carefully filing them in the back of his mind to go over later. Too soon the sound of the bell sliced through the air, indicating the end of the period. The boys got up to leave, but not before he could thank them enthusiastically for making room for him. He could hardly anticipate tomorrow’s lunch period. Every time he thought back to it, he felt a slow smile creep up on his face. He could hardly contain the good news to himself, pouring out every detail he could to his sister that night.

The next day couldn’t come fast enough. He was sure to tell his teacher to set his backpack down in his new spot, since he always got to the cafeteria a little early to beat the rush. Butterflies in his stomach, he watched the lunch room slowly fill up with the usual loud and energetic students and searched the crowd eagerly for his newfound friends. A few minutes passed and he wasn’t worried yet. The room was only half full. A couple moments more ticked by and there still wasn’t any sign of them. A few seconds more and it was almost completely full, with everyone settling in their usual spots. Nervously he stood up and scanned all around him for the familiar striped gray sweatshirt, and finally his eyes landed on the boy. There he was, sitting and laughing with his friends all the way on the opposite side of the lunchroom, in a new table facing the windows. The bell rang and suddenly he felt his cheeks burning in shame, his stomach hitting rock bottom. He wanted to tell himself that the boys had made a mistake and would come back tomorrow, but he knew in his heart that it wasn’t true. Like all the other countless times before, he had been cast aside and forgotten by people who lived bigger, fuller lives than him. Embarrassed, he realized his eyes were full before forcing the tears back. He refused to let these boys get him down. He knew that one day, far in his future, there would be a time where he would be happy with himself and accept his lifestyle. But for today, he put his head down on the table and focused his eyes on the lone ant inching along the floor, struggling to make its way back home.