Dancing Through Life
The reading boy was the first to say anything, and to Xavi, he sounded kind of rude. Maybe not rude. Maybe he was surprised that Xavi was there. The Catalan boy smiled brightly. "I'm Xavier. Pronounced 'tcha-vee-ay' not some English zay-vee-er something of other. And I'm late to school. This bed is free, isn't it?" Late by a whole week was still only considered "late" wasn't it? There wasn't a special word for people who were ridiculously late. At least he didn't think so.
Also, was that boy taking notes? He seemed to be looking Xavi over like he was a piece of furniture he might choose to buy and writing it all down in a notebook. That was strange. "Um, what are you doing?" he shot the boy a confused look.
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