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I flipped on sunglasses, slipped gratefully inside the dim coolness of the car’s back seat, and watched the sun-baked vistas of Tel Aviv slide by.Streets, hotels passed in a blur. By the time the door to my suite opened the setting sun was shadowing my bent, exhausted figure against the wall.I slipped my shoes off and fell exhausted on the bed, still fully dressed.I woke 12 hours later, my stomach growling.The hotel restaurant was quiet and almost entirely empty, the breakfast service almost over. From my small table under pale awnings I had a view of the ocean, gulls wheeling above the waves.“Your order, sir?”I started from my reverie. “Slicha.” I picked up the menu. “Fresh fruit, please. And a lime cordial.”“Of course.” A pause. “Sir, clothing in the restaurant is usually expected to be a little more ... formal.”I looked down and flushed. I was wearing the same jeans I had put on in Thorncliff.“I’m very sorry. I hadn’t realised.”“It’s alright.” The waitress grinned, looked sideways. High school was fine for James. He wasn't bullied like some of his classmates and had a small group of friends he mostly hung around with. Academics came easily to James and his natural intelligence allowed him to coast through high school without much trouble. However, athletic ability was one of the main determiners of popularity at his suburban high school, along with money and looks. James didn't have much of any of those. His wiry 5'10" frame and general lack of coordination made him awful at most sports. He had very dark brown hair that hung past his ears and grew in a messy tangle of curls and waves. His most striking feature was his eyes, which gleamed with a unique amber coloring, but he lacked the chiseled jaw and well-defined muscles that most girls at his high school seemed to like.It wasn't really high school that drove James away, though, much as he disliked the rigid social hierarchy. It was the soul-crushing boredom of suburbia. He could only take so many nights of.
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