Symon mumbles something inaudible under his breath, sliding out of the minivan and hurrying away from the car. As soon as she pulls away he stops just outside of the entryway, in the nook by the smoking point situation No-less-than-15-feet-from-entryway.
Dark hair hangs limply, too long and unfashionable, in messily falling hanks that obscure his face. Sallow skin and dark-rimmed eyes seem to indicate poor health, or at least poor self-care - bad diet, not enough sleep. He has nice enough features if he cleaned up, but as is, his sulking posture and unfriendly manner make this less likely that anyone gets close enough to look. He should at least try to stand up straight, he's on the short end for a boy his age as-is. Should you catch a glimpse of his features through his hair, you see dark almond-slanted eyes indicating Asian heritage.
Off to one side, he is hurriedly working to unbutton the preppy cream-colored button-up shirt with light pinstripe pattern - an undershirt on beneath, and the large, heavy-looking backpack to one side showing a dark-colored shirt peeking out as he works on changing.