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He's a fixer...or not!

ADRIAN MCCLERON

"It's him uh?"

The words soaked in displeasure ran out of my mouth the moment I spotted him. I stopped to lean against a locker, and studied him a bit: his brows all furrowed were hovering over his eyes beaming in alertness; fingers folding a fist, ready to pound; and his semi frail body already turning pink, was stuck in the middle of three boys far larger than he was.

I immediately deciphered what was happening.

"I doubt he'd intended to offend him, but I guess that's what happens when you're a do-gooder in glasses."

He wasn't in glasses, but I do like to imagine what he'd be like in one: those forest green eyes mostly shaded by a translucent frame, like a f
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