Always Watch Out for the Quiet Ones

Chapter Two

Haven's Pov.

Haven Haddock was known for three things.

One: never speaking, unless he absolutely had to, and most of the time he didn't. Two, his love for photography.

That was one thing he actually enjoyed about school. Photography class. It was pretty chill, and most of the few students who took the elective generally left him alone.

The third thing he was known for made him cringe everytime he thought about it, which was pretty often..

Haven Haddock was the son of Stoick Haddock.

The mayor.

It was hell.

Plus, it was all anyone really talked about. He didn't talk, sure, but he wasn't deaf. He could hear just fine.

And he heard a lot.

"A mayor's son? Him?"

"Man, I wonder how his dad feels about that."

"He doesn't look like he's a mayor's kid. . . ."

"Bet his dad thinks he's a real problem. Like . . . a hiccup in the road!"

Yeah.

Fun.

These whispers and more followed him around school, sticking to his head like flies on a trap. There were others, too, of course, as students pondered why he never talked. Or why he didn't participate in gym. Or why he sometimes walked with a slight limp.

Those questions affected him more than the ones about his dad, even if they both hurt plenty. His prosthetic leg was carefully kept secret, and whenever one of those accusations were made, he'd get incredibly nervous that someone was about to find out the truth.

And he didn't want that to happen.

Couldn't let that happen.

It would be social suicide, and he was already hanging from the edge as it was.

Which was why he was currently sitting alone at lunch, his back to a tree, his legs outstretched in front of him. His black backpack sat next to him.

While most high schools ate lunch indoors in an actual cafeteria, Berk had decided to put tables outdoors and let students choose whether they wanted to eat outside or not.

Which, of course, meant almost everyone came out, unless it was raining, which was hardly ever.

Even Haven came out, though he certainly kept his distance. Far from anyone or anything that tried to hurt him.

He watched a group of girls walk by, laughing and gossiping. They didn't so much as pass him a glance, ignoring him like he was the most uninteresting piece of news anyone had ever seen.

Extra! Extra! School boy never speaks, is bullied constantly, and has a lame prosthetic! Read all about it!

He sighed. It felt like being a ghost.

Not that he actually knew what that felt like.

Maybe I don't talk, Haven thought miserably, reaching into his lunch box for the apple he had packed. But that doesn't mean I don't have anything to say.

He quickly ate his fruit, which was the only thing his father allowed him to take for lunch, because all the other food at his too-fancy house was reserved for important guests, and peered into his bag. He fished out his sketchbook. While photography was his passion, he still loved to make art, and he scribbled away as lunch ticked on.