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Ryan stood a middling six feet as he looked down at the lock on his locker. Giving it a twist and setting it at zero, he turned the knob to the first number of his combination. 9….. 19….. 43….. Click. He opened his locker door and pulled his headphones off, setting them on the top shelf along with his iPod. Ryan let his backpack slip off his shoulders as he pulled one arm out of the strap and used the other to swing it around in front of him. The backpack hit the ground with a slight thud and he squatted down to reach the zipper, pulling it open. He spent a moment putting unnecessary books and folders in the bottom of his locker and replacing them with a binder and a couple folders needed for his morning classes. He then stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder as he came to a standing position. His eyes were barely open and the morning grogginess had not yet worn off. Ryan scratched the back of his head, his fingers running through his red-orange hair. Unlike most, his hair was naturally a fiery red colour and his face was dotted with small freckles, running from the crown of his cheek bone, across his nose, and to the other side of his face. He was born in Ireland and moved here before he started his high school years so it was not too hard for him to make friends because people had not yet started forming their groups of friends. Besides, he seemed to have a pretty effortless time making friends—he was pretty outgoing, had a good sense of humor, and his Irish brogue didn’t hurt. He gave his hair a quick tussle and let his hand drop to his side. Yawning and stretching, he came out of his slight slouch and shook his head. He had on a plain black tee-shirt under a red and grey stripped jacket hanging loose on his frame, along with grey jeans and red Chucks. He shut his locker.

The entrance to the classroom was the last in a row of doors that dotted the hallway—this was Ryan's first period of the day, and next to his first period's door was the wall turning the corner down another hallway. He was running a little late and knew this was not a good first impression for his teacher. The bell was seconds away from ringing and, because no one else seemed to be in the hallways, he rushed to turn the corner to swing into his first period classroom. As he was quickly turning the corner, he just barely saw another person making her way into the room before he bumped right into her, his chest slamming into her as he let out a surprised breath. He swung an arm up around her in an attempt to catch her in case she were to fall, pulling her into him as he tried to find his balance.

"Oh!" He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt at removing the red-orange locks from his eyes. Ryan took a small step back to give her some space seeing that she clearly didn't want to be touched. He gave a chuckle and said, "My apologies!" His accent twirled and dipped appetizingly as he continued on to say, "I was just worried about making it to class on time. But I guess running didn't do me any use [any good]." He didn't recognized her and figured she might be new to the school. Nonetheless, he didn't want to get on anyone's bad side—he had always figured that having an "enemy", for lack of a better term, was just a waste of time and energy and he felt it best for people to see the better in others. So he was being sincere and you could see it in his gold-flecked emerald green eyes.

Ryan strolled into the classroom with ease and knew that he wasn't seriously in trouble with the teacher. He flashed a friendly grin toward the teacher and said, "Oh, c'mon, Mr. Leshner, don't do this to me now—I'm dreadfully wrecked [tired] !" He gave a playful chuckle. "And give the poor bird [girl, girlfriend] a break—it was my fault. I was legging it [running fast] to get here an' I rammed right into her."
The teacher gave him a look and said, "I don't need to hear your life story, Ryan. Taking a seat would be just as nice."
"Oh, c'mon, it's not like I try twistin' hay [starting trouble, usually in a playful way] ! I'm only messin' with you, you know that Mr. Leshner!"
The teacher let a small smile escape and he shook his head while rolling his eyes.
Ryan made his way to one of the aisles and walked between the rows of seats until he came to his own and sat down, nodding and saying hello to a few people on his way.

Ryan looked up, a slightly startled look appearing on his face—which was due to the fact that he already stopped paying attention and it was only within the first two minutes of first period that he heard someone calling him out. He sat up a bit and scratched the back of his head, his fingers running through his red-orange locks. "Uh, sure thing, Lesh'."
Mr. Leshner gave him a look.
"Oh, right, sorry—Mr. Leshner." He gave a grin, the freckles rising on his face along with his cheeks from his smile.
Mr. Leshner turned away from the class and began his lesson, grabbing papers from his desk and writing on the board.
Ryan turned around in his seat to face Rena and gave his best smile, his pearly whites flashing and his flecked gold-green eyes shining. "I'm sorry 'bout earlier—I'm all arseways [a complete mess]!" He glanced over his shoulder and then back at her, studying her face. "And don' worry 'bout Lesh—he knows I'm only twistin' hay [starting trouble, usually in a playful way]." He knew he was doing most of the talking but he wanted to get in all that he could before she had a chance to interrupt him and not give him a chance. "Mind if we start over?" He put his hand out between them and over her desk, his Claddagh shining on his right ring finger, the heart facing away from him. "Call me Ryan."

(Sorry that took me so long! I've been so busy with APs and other work!)

((Wow, congratulations! That's a big step!))
His eyes flickered toward the motion of her hand grabbing the locket around her neck. He looked back up and gazed into her honey coloured eyes as he gave a quiet chuckle. "Alright, alright, relax the cacks [calm down]," he said with a grin to indicate that he was trying to joke around with her. "You win—I'll pay attention." He took his hand away and began to turn back around, stopping once more to look back at her. "And if you need any help getting around, just ask." With that, he turned all the way around in his seat and sat back, drumming his pencil on his leg.
Soon after Ryan turned around to face the front of the room, a student aiding in the counseling office entered and handed Mr. Leshner a slip of paper. He nodded, thanked the boy, and set the paper on his desk. As he did so, he looked up at Rena and said, "Rena and Ryan—I would like to talk to you two at the end of class." He then continued his lesson.

Despite what Rena may have thought, Ryan was a smart boy who didn't get into trouble, so he wasn't worried about the note—whatever it was couldn't have been all that bad seeing as he wasn't a troublemaker. In fact, he forgot all about it until the bell rang and Mr. Leshner looked up at the two of them, raising the paper slip in his hand to remind them not to leave before confronting him about it. "Rena, Ryan—it'll only be a minute."
Ryan stuffed the pencil he was using to drum with during class into his bag and turned in his seat to face Rena. "So, Rena, is it?" He grinned and ran a hand through his red locks. “What sorts of trouble are you getting yourself into now, huh? I hope you’re not a squealer [a person who tells stories to get another in trouble], dragging me down with you,” he joked. Even Ryan’s laugh seemed to have an Irish brogue.
As the class became emptier, Mr. Leshner took the piece of paper and spoke to them from the front of the class, loud enough for them to hear. "Ryan's not giving you any trouble, is he Rena?" He showed a pleasant smile and waited for them to approach him.

((Don't worry, I understand.))