The Quiet Types

Chapter 2

"Thanks, mom," I said and she nodded, "Bye."

"I love you," she replied as I shut the door.

I made my way through the waves of students that seemed to appear throughout the school. For a small town, they seem to have a lot of high school-aged kids. I eventually found my locker and dialed the combination. It felt like an eternity since I've done anything like this. I manage to get it open on the second try and began to collect the books I needed for the first half of my day.

"First time with a combination?" asked someone behind me.

I turned around to see a guy standing behind me. He gave me a half smile before wrapping his hands around the straps to his backpack.

"No. It's just been a while," I admitted as I shut the locker. I turned to face him and fixed my books on my side.

"Henry," he introduced.

You could tell in his expression he was waiting for a response. It felt so weird not knowing how to respond. I had known the same group of people most of my life and having to do this all over again just seemed so unnatural.

"Ummm...Lauren," I replied. It took everything in me not to mess it up.

"Well, Lauren I am your guide around campus. Did Mrs. Peters explain anything of that to you?" he asked and I shook my head no.

"She did not, but I'll gladly relieve you of your duties because that is why I came early. I'm quick to learn, so I think I'll be okay," I assured.

He chuckled, "Thanks."

"Believe me. It would have been more awkward for me than it would have had to have been for you. It was nice meeting you, Henry."

I attempted to take a step away, but he seemed to counter every step I took.

"I really like your shirt," he complimented.

I had to look down at it before I remembered it was Will's Gremlins shirt, "Thank you. I really should get to finding my first-hour class though."

"Sorry. Yeah," he agreed and I nodded, "It's just that we don't really get a lot of new people around here. I mean we were practically friends from birth all of us. Everyone knows everyone's moms and what not."

"Good to know," I said hoping I seemed more polite than rude.

"Okay. I'm really screwing this up," he joked as he slid his hands through his blonde hair, "Where are you from?"

"New York City. I'm sorry for being rude, but I really should get going. Excuse me," I insisted as I manage to get around him and rush down the hall.

I eventually found my English Literature class. It was in a bungalow a little way from the rest of the campus, but I could get used to my class being further away from the rest of society. It would give me some peace and quiet in the morning.

I took a seat on the planter across from it and pulled out my current read. I had managed to get my hands on an encyclopedia dedicated to serial killers. 

I had decided I wanted to go into forensic psychology. My mom was very uneasy about the idea of me exploring my curiosities, but Dr. Felland encouraged my mother to give me an opportunity to be me. That a lot of reasons why adolescents got into things was because they were kept from expressing themselves in a healthy way. It was probably the only thing I was thankful for when it came to this entire situation. I no longer had to hide my fascinations and could openly discuss my passions.

"Jack the Ripper," said someone out loud and I looked up to see a guy standing on the ramp of the bungalow I was supposed to go into shortly.

"What?" I asked and he pointed towards my book.