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Bejamin didn't like his school. This was his second year there, but the only reason he wasn't back home tending the stables was because his rich uncle had taken coustody of him when his parents died. As Benjamin understood it, his uncle also helped financially with the farm, but the people who ran it were his older sister and an aunt on Benjamin's mother's side. He was going to turn eighteen in a month, at which point he could legally move back to his old house and live with his sister. But she was newly wed, and the few times he'd brought it up his uncle had made perverse jokes that made Benjamin uncomfortable. He didn't care to think about his sister having a sex life, and how him being there might disturb the couple. More importantly, Benjamin was afraid his uncle would stop funding the stables if Benjamin caused a quarrel between him and the rest of his family.

So he hated his life for the most part. He wasn't particularly fond of his school or his classmates. Most of them seemed immature, and the rest of them were too smart for him to talk to comfortably. Not that he was dumb, he just wasn't used to talking. He was used to working though and had a job at a small restaurant.

There was a girl he had seen around the restaurant, but now she was about to cross the street to the school. Today he was a little early. Sometimes he was a little late. He didn't care because he didn't like his first class, and as long as he had enough time to run there it was fine with him. But if he had time to walk slowly that was good too.

The girl had to wait for the traffic, so Benjamin caught up to her. He stood beside her, about three feet away, and tried to look like he wasn't looking at her. He recognized her, but he couldn't remember her name and that bothered him.

Benjamin started walking when she did. The crosswalk never stayed green for long, so he huried across the street beside her. He also thought it was somewhat rude to pull ahead of her-- at least when they were the only two on the cross walk-- so he couldn't hurry as much as he liked.

"Hey, aren't you in my next class?" he asked the familiar girl as they reached the other side. He figured it was a safe guess since they went to the same school and she seemed more familiar than just the coffee shop.

Benjamin did keep up, his boots falling in step beside her. His voice was not soft but matter of fact, his words carefully chosen. "I remember now," he said to be polite. "I'm not good at that class. It's hard to pay attention. What about you?" She looked smart, he thought, smart enough to help him with the homework. And even if she wasn't, at least she was kind enough to talk to him. Most people made him feel like an outsider just because he had a southern drawl.

Benjamin flushed with embarrassment. "Yes-- but, I don't remember your name. I'm not good with names." Actually, he was good with names, but only if he'd really met the person and talked to them. Then he never forgot their name. "There are so many people in our classes, at this school," he apologized.

He thought she seemed nervous, but he also thought that might just be his imagination. "Benjamin Rike," he added. "What's your name?"

It was a little strange to let a girl hold a door open for him, so he put his hand on it as he passed through. "I got it. Karina. What kind of a name is that?" he asked with well meaning interest. "I know Benjamin is Hebrew or something...and my last name is German. My father told me that but I forget what the names mean."

He saw immediately that the school was like a ghost town. Most of the students who were there already were just finishing very early classes or had come to retake a test or something. Most every one was busy but them. Maybe kids who had nothing to do didn't usually come to school early.

Benjamin felt as if Karina was trying to play some sort of joke on him. Women were like that sometimes, wanting you to say something specific but not telling you what it was. He stuck his hands in his pockets, unsure of himself.

"Umn, are your parents from Finland? That's right next to..." He frowned. Wait, Finland was a scandinavian country too. "I mean, umn, Denmark? Or maybe your grandparents?" Now he was loosing the part of his guess that had been most correct-- she seemed foriegn to him, but he didn't know why. Maybe she was just from a city, and he was not. Maybe that was all.

"England? No!" his face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. "Australia, New Zealand? I'm no good at guessing games. I'm running out of countries I can name, too," he said with some distress.

He hunched his shoulders and looked at the floor. "What does it matter any way? You're here now, aren't you? You're a citizen and all that." Most Americans assumed that if you were there, you were a citizen. Unless you were a Mexican, in which case you were obviously an illegal immigrant stealing all their jobs. Benjamin couldn't help being affected by these views a little bit when he didn't know any thing about the immigration and naturalization process.