The Dead and Buried (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 2

I sat in the office of Woodbridge High School, clutching the paper with my schedule and locker combo on it. Niall's admission had freaked me out a little. He wasn't scared, but that didn't stop me from looking over my shoulder a couple of times before I'd left the house for school.

When I was little, I'd loved ghost stories. And I'd been completely convinced that ghostd were real. But then I grew up and figured they were just part of legend - like vampires and werewolves. Haunted houses were just old, run-down places whose "ghost" could be explained by drafty windows, loud pips, or lying tenants looking for attention.

But our new house was only twenty years old and in perfect shape.

And Niall didn't lie.

I shook it off and focused on the schedule in my hand. There were no suprises, since we'd been in contact with the school over the summer and sent them my transcript. When I'd arrived at the office, the school secretary had told me to wait there for my "Newcomers Club Buddy" to assist me through my first day.

We didn't have anything like that at my old school. But then again, we never had new kids, either. My whole grade fit into one dingy old classroom. Woodbridge High School, though, was a two-story brick building with a clock tower at the entrance and was surrounded by fields so perfectly manicured they could have been on ESPN.

I looked through the office's glass window into the hallway and felt a surge of anxiety. Throngs of kids meandered through the hall, stopping at lockers and calling out to each other over heads and backpacks. Kids who'd known eachother for years. And I was stepping in, having no history, knowing no one. My stomach clenched like a fist.

A boy entered the office. He was tall, but you wouldn't immediately know it from the way he stood slighttly hunched forward. He wore a black T-shirt and ark jeans, with his hands stuffed in the pockets. An aura of sadness clung to him like bad colonge. He kicked at the ground as he mumbled to the secretary, "Um...the Newcomers Club."

She pointed at me and he turned my way, not looking any-where but at the ground as he trudged over. Still, I felt a bit of relief. I wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm your guide for the day," he said, apparently to my shoes.

"Hi. I'm Louis Tomlinson?" I knew that was my name, but some-how it came out sounding like a question. I stood, hoping he'd finally look up. When he did, my heart sped up a bit.

I didn't have ton of experience with flirting. Though I did go on a date once, freshman year. And by "date" I mean we went to a dance together, kissed once, he tried to do more and I stopped him, and then he told everyone at school my breath smelled like a toilet. So....my track record....not so good.

But this guy standing in front of me seemed a little different. His brown hair was a curly mess and too long. It hung down over the palest green eyes I have ever seen. Eyes that no one should hide. But they were also ringed with dark circles. He'd be pretty hot if he got a little more sleep and put a modicum of effort into his looks. But he seemed more than tired. He looked... haunted.

"Thanks for taking the time," I said with gratefulness that I meant. "I'd be lost without help today. This school's much bigger than my old one. And coming in as a senior, when everyone else already knows each other, it's so much pressure."

Oh no. I'd started babbling. And my voice had this high pitched sound to it that I hated. I'd become Nervous Babbling Boy. Regardless, a stream of verbal vomit continued to spew from my mouth.

He pulled a lock of hair behind his ear, his eyes at full force now, and gave me this entertained, lopsided grin. I modified my original judgment. This boy was already hot. He just hid it well.