You Can Run To Me

Eight

Natalie had rather gotten into the rhythm of lectures, essays and between those mind-aching two the wonderful releases of art and meeting up with her new friends. Sylvia, by now, was a fully-initiated member of the gang, and Natalie couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself. She had managed to be in the group enough that she was able to introduce a new member; she was pretty sure that was some kind of sign of integration into the group. It had been, in fact, one of the happiest six weeks of her life.

Penryn, meanwhile, was becoming intolerable.

She kept going on and on about her crush and how dreamy he was, but whenever anyone tried to ask her who it was, she would clam up. It was infuriating! Nat tried to get her alone a few times, sure that she would confide in her old friend, but it made absolutely no difference whatsoever. It was one of those things that got old, really fast.

Nat had been thinking about it for a while, trying to work out a way to pry it out of Pen, but she was fresh out of ideas. She even got so far as contemplating threatening Penryn. With what, she had no idea, but she was sorely tempted anyway. Rather frustratingly it was usually Penryn herself who could get the goss out of anyone, and Natalie wasn't sure there was anyone else she'd ask. Nat wouldn't mind so much, but Penryn would bring it up every few hours, and it was getting on everyone's nerves.

In the end, it was Rachel who called for the intervention. It was a free period for everyone but Penryn and, as usual, the lunch table had gathered in one corner of the cavernous study hall. Obviously, they only ever talked in whispers when they did talk (which they often did) and it was under these conditions that the topic was broached.

"Hey, squad," hissed Rachel, "let's huddle."

Nat felt like trying to roll her eyes, but put down her pen and leaned in all the same, wondering what it could be about. She wasn't the only one.

"What?" said Luke, looking pretty annoyed. He was pretty studious, Nat had been mildly surprised to discover, and hated getting stopped in the middle of an essay.

"This has gone on too long."

Simone piped up, "what has gone on too long?"

Rachel sighed, as if it were obvious (which, in a way, it was), and declared that she had had it up to here with Penryn's 'tall, dark and handsome' bloke. It was time, she proclaimed, that they made Pen spill the beans. Now that someone else had said it, Nat decided to pretend she hadn't thought it just as hard as they had.

"But if she doesn't want to tell us, shouldn't we just leave her to it?" she murmured, feigning innocence.

"We have," muttered someone, "and now we're done with that."

Natalie didn't say much after that – it was only a perfunctory protestation, after all. She agreed completely with Rachel that it was time to get Pen to spill the beans.

"So it's decided then. This evening we're going to sit her down and not let her up until she tells us everything." Rachel surveyed the faces on all sides, "and no wimping out, okay?"

"What is a psychopath?" asked Steve.

The class stared back with insultingly blank faces. That is, most did. Natalie, meanwhile, was trying to keep a blank face, and in all fairness was doing pretty well at it. She knew a fair amount about psychopaths - criminal psychology was one of the very few careers she could see herself going into – but she didn't fancy telling everyone about that strange interest of hers, even here in a Psych class.

Steven, their care-worn professor, frowned disapprovingly at his inadequate class. "Ahem. Well, if none of you are prepared to even try to answer... The answer is that no one is really sure. Some scientists have tried to find out if there's a certain gene or brain abnormality that causes it, but their searches were inconclusive."