The Stalker's Game

Chapter Two: Settling In

Lena's POV:

Unpacking was supposed to be therapeutic, a way to ground myself in this new place. But as I rummaged through the boxes, pulling out familiar items that now seemed foreign in this strange room, the uneasy feeling from earlier lingered. I tried to shake it off, focusing instead on making the space my own.

I hung up the last of my clothes and tossed the empty box aside. My bed was still bare, just a mattress without any sheets, and the rest of the room was a mess of half-opened boxes. I'd made some progress, but there was still so much to do. I stared at the clutter, feeling a bit overwhelmed. It was strange how unpacking my life into this room felt more like dismantling it.

A knock on the door broke through my thoughts. My mom peeked in, her smile a little softer now, less forced. "Dinner's ready, Lena. How's it going in here?"

I glanced around at the chaos. "Getting there," I said, trying to sound more positive than I felt. "It's... a work in progress."

She nodded, stepping inside and taking a look around. "It'll feel like home soon enough," she said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. "Why don't you come down and eat? You can finish up later."

"Yeah, okay." I followed her downstairs, my footsteps echoing in the quiet house. The smell of something warm and comforting wafted from the kitchen—my dad's spaghetti, a rare occurrence since he usually left the cooking to Mom. Maybe he was trying to make the first night here special. I appreciated the effort, even if it didn't erase the weird feeling gnawing at me.

The kitchen was cozy, with warm lighting and a round wooden table set for three. My dad was already seated, serving himself a plate of spaghetti. He looked up as we entered, giving me a broad smile. "There she is! How's the room coming along?"

I shrugged, sliding into the seat across from him. "It's getting there. Still feels kind of... strange."

My dad nodded as if he understood. "It's a big change, but you'll get used to it. This place has a lot to offer. You'll see."

Mom joined us at the table, and we all started eating. The food was good—familiar, comforting—but my mind kept drifting. Tomorrow was my first day at Ashwood High, and the thought made my stomach twist in knots. Starting at a new school in the middle of senior year wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned my last year of high school. New faces, new routines, new everything.

"So, Lena," Mom began, breaking the silence. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

I hesitated, twirling my fork in the spaghetti. "A little, I guess. It's just... weird, you know? Starting over so late in the year. Everyone already has their friends and their cliques. I'm going to be the outsider."

"You'll be fine," Dad said with a reassuring smile. "You're smart, and you make friends easily. Just be yourself."

I nodded, but his words didn't do much to calm the anxiety swirling inside me. "I hope so."

"We checked out the school when we were house hunting," Mom added. "It's smaller than your old school, but the teachers seem nice. And there's a lot of extracurriculars—maybe you could join a club or a sports team, meet some new people."

"Yeah, maybe." I wasn't sure how I felt about that. At my old school, I'd had my group of friends, my routine. Here, it was like starting from scratch. The thought of walking into a cafeteria full of strangers was daunting, to say the least.

"You'll settle in," Dad said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "It'll just take some time. And who knows? You might end up loving it here."

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Maybe."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, and I let myself relax a little, even managing to enjoy the rest of the meal. But the closer we got to finishing, the more my mind kept drifting back to tomorrow, to the unknown. The house might not feel like home yet, but soon I'd have to face a whole new set of challenges—new classes, new teachers, and new classmates.

After dinner, I offered to help clean up, hoping to delay going back to my half-unpacked room. We worked in companionable silence, and for a moment, everything felt normal. But once the dishes were done and I was back in my room, the uneasy feeling returned. I forced myself to unpack a few more boxes, trying to distract myself, but it didn't really help.

I glanced at the clock—9:30 PM. I should probably get some sleep, but the idea of lying in bed, alone in this strange new house, made me hesitate. Instead, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the darkened yard. The trees were just shadows now, swaying slightly in the breeze. I wondered what the town would look like in the morning, bathed in daylight. Would it seem less intimidating? More welcoming?

I didn't know. All I knew was that tomorrow would come, whether I was ready for it or not.

With a sigh, I pushed myself off the bed and began laying out my clothes for tomorrow. I needed to be prepared, needed to put on a brave face. New beginnings were always tough, but maybe, just maybe, this one wouldn't be so bad.

But as I climbed into bed and turned off the light, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. That somewhere in the darkness, eyes were on me, waiting...