The robes had to be enchanted or something. There just was no other reason a piece of clothing could be so utterly uncomfortable. Grent tried one last time to ignore the robes and focus on the book and parchment in front of him. "I have it hard enough trying to take these notes as it is." His quill slowly dragged its faltering path across the parchment, leaving it's knobbly and imperfect lettering.
Extra writing and reading, he had been assigned. To make up for his 'serious lack of academic investment'. It wasn't his fault. Being a miner like the rest of the people in his town didn't call for great penmanship skills. It was only because his mother had insisted that he had even learned to read and write at all.
Just as Grent started to relax a little, the sleeve of his robe caught on the rough edge of the wooden table. As the sleeve made his arm jerk, the fragile quill in his hand snapped. "Great! Just great," He shouted as he slammed the book shut and grabbed his small satchel. Many annoyed glares followed him as he stormed out of the library.
"An hour outside will be good. A little fresh air and sunlight and i'll go back inside to start again. I can't afford to have nothing to turn in tomorrow."
The boy walked fast when he was frustrated and it seemed like no time at all before he was exiting the building. The sun was shining brightly and the light breeze rustled the extra fabric of the overlarge sleeves on his robe. Grent took a few steps away from the door and breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of fresh air. With a few more breaths Grent had nearly forgotten his frustration and he pulled off his hat as he walked towards one of his favorite places to sit.
It seemed like he wasn't the only one who liked to sit in the dirt under the Ash tree. As he approached he finally noticed that the girl with fiery orange hair was not in fact relaxing but crying. He thought about asking if she was ok, but that would have been a stupid question. You don't sit there crying, with your face in your hands if everything is ok.
So he did the next best thing. Grent strolled right over and flopped down next to her, kicking up a little cloud of dirt. The boy was covered in dirt, to put it simply. He had to have only worn the robes for a short time and already it looked like he had dumped buckets of fresh soil on it and then did it again for good measure. He extended one dirty hand towards the crying girl, "I'm Grent. Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to be left alone?" he asked quietly. He then quickly added, "Oh, sorry," and the layer of dirt on his hands gathered up into his sleeve, leaving the hand clean. More or less.