He was normal. Not cool, not nerdy, but completely average in every respect. Brown hair, brown eyes, five foot six, and pale white.
The only thing that wasn't normal about him was how average he was.
He was friends with a nerd and a jock, both boys as well, and they all had crushes on Tamara as every other boy.
He brought in his lunch every day, a PB&J with a bag of carrot sticks and a pudding cup.
He usually wore jeans and a T-shirt, though when he was feeling rebellious he could wear athletic shorts, though that was rare.
He was in band and he played the trombone, and he was also in PE; he took all on-level classes except for social studies, but only because the AP teacher was notoriously lazy.
He glanced at the girl he'd hooked up with overnight. She was peacefully asleep, her face alight with a sunbeam through the blinds.
Being normal meant it was harder to get people to trust you, he supposed, but it also meant he was overlooked.
He carefully slid a knife out of his bag.