Short Story from THE CHEMISTRY OF FATE part II

By: Meradeth Houston on 8:23 AM

It is a very strange feeling this morning to be sitting at my computer and not torturing hapless freshmen with the fundamentals of physical anthropology :) I'm sure I'll get used to it!

Here's where I'm hanging out today: The Dark Phantom Review has a fun interview up, and The Reading Obsession has a (really funny) interview with me and Ari from Chemistry. If you get a second to stop by both places, that would be awesome! The tour schedule is of course here for the rest of places to enter the giveaway.

I thought I'd continue the journal from Sandra, Tom's grandmother. The first entry can be found here. Enjoy :)

Entry #2

~He didn’t waste any time trying to snare my attention. His presence wasn’t lost on the others in the room either. He was one of those people that exude confidence, command attention, a leader that felt comfortable in his own skin. Of course that drew the others in.

Steven was the first to talk to him, Mickey in tow, as soon as class was over. Mary purred her hello’s, earning her usual attention. She was engaged with a rock on her finger but the boys still loved her. Me, they tolerated, mostly because I came along with Mary—her little pet with the camera.

“New here?” Steven asked, leaning on James’ desk like they were old friends. They thought they would have him to their parties and playing on the baseball team before the day was out.

James had other ideas.

He looked up at Steven, Mickey, and shrugged. When he stood, he was a good six inches taller than the others and I was secretly pleased to see Mickey take a step back. “Obviously.”

Mary snickered and Mickey gave her a dirty look. I packed up my things with deliberate slowness.

Steven wasn’t thrown by James’ steely tone. “Where you move from?”

“Germany,” James answered absently. The boys exchanged a glance that read some unfathomable boy-speech and started in with questions about what brought James here.

Richie took the opportunity to sneak past us to the door. Steven and Mickey didn’t look at him. Richie was the type that didn’t even draw their taunts and jeers. He was an object in the room, not even seen as a person.

Except James. James studied Richie’s retreat, ignoring the other boys, and hurried to follow him from the room.

“What the hell’s his problem?” Steven asked, glancing at me like I might know the answer.

“Seems like he has other plans here.” It was an idle comment, but now I know how true it was.