Survival Of The Fittest

History homework. He didn't like it. It wasn't the subject he was best at, nor his worst. The Middle-Eastern boy walking into the library right now didn't seem pleased to be researching

Rashid Hassan didn't particularly like it because whenever it came to certain topics, his parents would find some way to get political about it.

Wearing a long-sleeved loose-fit shirt and slightly torn jeans with old sneakers as he walked toward the search computers, he didn't seem all that disturbed about it this time around. Not that he'd gotten used to it. Apart from the ones he needed for his own paper his sister had given him an empty "recyclable" shopping bag with a slip inside containing her own list of books for research...with a popular teen novel tossed in for flavor. She had been getting into the teen book club in freshman class and needed him to pick up some stuff while she was hanging out.

Let's see...Civil War...abolitionism...

At least neither of the topics at hand were particularly "charged," which meant he wouldn't have to deal with as much nagging as he normally would. It made writing down the LOC numbers of the books he needed to find easier, and the walk to the shelves a little stressful.

Of course, he was most looking forward to procrastinating a little bit, maybe get to expanding his iTunes collection. Or maybe he could check out whatever the library had scraped up for its monthly comic or manga update. Something to take his mind off the fact that he'd be bringing home quite a load and would probably get some 'he's a nerd' looks from girls he was considering bringing to the school dance.

Something to take his mind off before he actually got to that section...

Omar stepped into the library, and frowned. It had been a normal, boring day at school... his year was almost over, and what he was doing now was pointless. He'd already been accepted into college, his grades right now mattered not at all. In the library, though, at least he could relax. He had his current read- Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson- tucked under his arm as he walked into the library.

He was wearing a usual outfit for him- jeans, a loose fitting T shirt, and the glasses he wore that always seemed to dip too low on his face, never quite fitting where he wanted them. He hoped there was none of the "popular" people in here- he knew that they always talked about him, along with their usual topic of what kind of drinks they should have, and who was hot and who was not. The upcoming prom had put him in enough social pressure as it was. He knew the girl he'd wanted to ask- Sierra Manning, a cute girl who Omar had seen around the school a few times. He'd be damned if he'd actually ask her, though- she probably thought he was an asshole, and besides, she wouldn't want to go with someone like him.

Looking around, he was glad to see that there was relaly no one in his grade there who would make fun of him. In fact, the only kid who he acually could see that was in his grade was Rashid, a smart Middle Eastern boy who Omar knew from some of his classes. He was probably doing some research- well, screw that. Omar slumped his book bag down on the floor, taking a seat at one of the tables, and he began to read from where he'd left off in Snow Crash.

Despite the sizable load of books already filling up his sister's provided bag, Rashid never actually thought of himself as "smart" unless that included "-ass." And he'd barely gotten a couple of books for his own essay, both of which would probably end up gathering dust in a corner of his room until they were dangerously close to being overdue. At least the library's collection hadn't been "updated" yet - if you could call a school library's comic book collection up-to-date - which meant that his business here was finished, and he could leave.

That was until he found what he needed to take his mind off things. Omar Burton, the 'classhole', settling down at a table by himself and reading yet another somewhat obscure (to Rashid anyway) novel. The fact that the book that he never found Omar with the same book twice - given all the times he'd bothered to notice - always seemed to pique his curiosity.

"What'cha doing?" Rashid began, just soft enough to be heard as he approached the table. There wasn't much trace of his heritage in his accent, an obvious trait from his Stateside upbringing.

He put his sister's bag on an empty chair and leaned in a bit, just enough to look curious but not nosy.