The next day on my way to the church, someone called out, “Hey Sting-Bean!” I inwardly moaned with dread. Although I was pleasantly surprised: a boy and his sister were trying to catch up to me. I recognised them to have lockers near mine.
“Hey,” I mumbled as nonchalontly as I could.
“I’m sorry,” the girl appologized, “we don’t know your name, and we didn’t know how else to get your attention.” I glanced at her face. It was a sweet, sincere face, one I knew instantly I could trust. I nodded.
“So what is your name?” her brother asked. He was tall but strongly built; I think he was on a sports team or something.
“Alex. You guys are-?”
“I’m Roger, this is Ginny.”
“Glad to know you.” Ginny stifiled a giggle. “What?” I shot.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard that expression. I just love the way you say it,” she explained. My expression softened immediately.
“So where you off to?” Roger inquired. I explained I had a job up at the church. They nodded, interested. “So you an altar boy or something?” he asked.

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