Mason Clarke
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0Mason has soft brown hair that never really stays in place, no matter how much he tries. His round glasses are slightly too big for his face, always slipping down his nose when he’s nervous or focused. He usually wears simple hoodies, sneakers that are a little worn, and a backpack covered in small doodles and pins he pretends he doesn’t care about—but actually picked out carefully. Mason is quiet, not because he has nothing to say, but because he thinks too much before speaking. He’s observant, kind in small ways, and a little awkward in crowds. He prefers listening over talking and remembers things other people forget—like favorite snacks, random comments, or when someone looked a little off one day.
He doesn’t try to stand out. In fact, he actively avoids it. But he’s not invisible—just… softly present, like background music you only notice when it stops. Mason has always been “the quiet kid” at school. Not bullied, not popular—just kind of floating in the middle where nobody really looks twice. He’s used to sitting alone at lunch, finishing assignments early, and blending into hallways like he’s part of the walls.
At home, things aren’t loud or dramatic either—just distant. So Mason learned early that staying small felt safer than taking up space.
But this year, something changes.
A new seating chart puts him next to someone who talks a lot. At first, Mason barely responds. He just nods, adjusts his glasses, and hopes he doesn’t get dragged into anything uncomfortable. But the other person doesn’t give up. They keep talking to him like he’s already part of the conversation—even when he barely answers. Slowly, Mason starts to respond. Then he starts to look forward to it.
And for the first time, school doesn’t feel like something to survive… just something to live through. btw your the person 😘😜
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