Stranger in the Midst (Practice WIP)

-Stranger in the Midst-


[Chapter 1 – A Stranger]

>You're bumped awake from your slumber next to your lunch, at the particularly comfortable table you've picked out for yourself.
>You turn your head to see what's gone and done it.
>Freshmen.
>Figures.
>A pair of ones.
>Snake eyes.
>They were simply moving past your table to get to another group of themselves, only happening to nudge your bench enough for you to wake up by accident.
>Hm.
>Well, while you're up, you might as well eat.
>You casually pick up your spoon and slowly eat the mashed potatoes on your tray at your lonely table. That is, until a large, dark hand slams down onto the table, right next you your food. The tray bounces slightly as the table is nearly knocked onto its side from the force of the impact.
>You don't move, not an inch. Not out of fear. Exactly the opposite, actually. You knew who it was, and it didn't surprise you in the slightest.
>You calmly finish chewing your food and realign your tray.
“Hey, Tyler.”
>The massive football player with dreads moves into your field of view, sitting directly across from you and placing his own lunch down in front of him. He was around three and a half.
>”What? No scream? Not even a flinch?”
>You sigh as you plant your spoon into the corn on your tray and pull your hood a little further up.
“You do it all the time. How could I possibly find it scary at this point?”
>”Oh c’mon, I don't do it ALL the time.”
>You give him a stare to top all stares from behind your hood.
>The message of your disbelief was communicated clearly.
>”Alright, I see what you mean. I'll try to cut back on it, but you'll have to commit more to being scared next time.”
>There's a moment of complete stagnation, before you give a smirk. God you loved the guy sometimes.
“Whatever you say.”
>He smiles back and proceeds to eat his food.
>Over a period of a few minutes, other football jocks accumulate at the table, filling in the table on either side of you and Tyler. Each of them greets you and Tyler as they have a seat.
>When you first met the football team, they were your stereotypical, jerky jocks. That is, until Tyler stepped up. Because of him, the entire team was now a group of respectable guys that everyone, truly everyone, loved. They're always at charity events – either helping out or spending their own money – helping stock the freezers of the kitchen, or anything that required physical strength.
>The average player was a two.
>The guy sitting to your right, Jerome, speaks up from eating his food, breaking the silence.
>”So, Anon, d’ja find anyone t’ take t’ homecoming yet?” He nudges you with his elbow roughly. Everyone else looks up from their food eagerly.
>You sigh, exasperated by the question. That was the fifth time today. Whatever, just give ‘em what they want.
“Yes, I've found someone.”
>Everyone, especially Tyler, looked amazed.
>”You...did it? Not to be rude or nothin’, but you actually asked a gi–”
“No, I FOUND someone to ask. Never said I was gonna actually do it.”
>A series of groans and people slamming their heads onto the table came from your neighboring lunch-goers. Tyler looks up at you with scrutiny.
>”C’mon man! What, are you just gonna sit there all quiet and be a sissy for your entire life?”
>From you, they got nothing. Only the deathly silence of the conversation ending remained, and nearly everyone understood that, like they were supposed to. Nearly everyone.
>Tyler speaks up once more.
>”C’mon man...just give it a thought.”
>Then he knew he should get off it, since he knew too that you were willing to hold a grudge over something this small if pushed too hard on it. He also felt the deafening aura around you – one of silence that silenced all else – just like everyone else. He wouldn't push on, no, but he would divert the topic to something else, just in a way to still get some info.
>”Anyway, will ya at least tell us who this someone is?”
“...”
>.........
>Why not?
“Her name is Kali.”
>The guys think about it before Tyler inquires.
>”You mean that new girl? The freshman with the purple hair? Ain't that a little weird?”
>You take another glob of mashed potatoes, dip it in ketchup, and place it in your mouth. After enjoying your bite to the fullest, you speak.
“What's so weird about it?”
>”Well, I mean, it's just kinda strange n’all for a junior to go ‘round, datin’ a fresh–”
“I'm not gonna date her. You told me to find someone to take, and I did. End of story.”
>”A’ight, that's whatever, but why her? Why not another junior?”
>Gavin, the jock to Tyler's right, looks up from his food.
>”C’mon Ty, can't ya tell? Have you even seen the girl? Skinny, pale, long hair like an emo, always wearing a hoodie. It's a perfect fit.”
>Tyler gives this some consideration and seems content with it.
>”Yeah I guess it does make sense. Well Anon, good luck with it. Just one more thing though. Could you rate her for us?”
“What do you mean?”
>”Y’know, on a scale of one to ten, what would you put her at?”
>For a moment a cold smile is brought to your face at the thought of any of the numbers having to do with attractiveness. Fortunately, it's hidden by the shadow of your hood.
“Ten…”