How to be a Sociopath (Editing)

Entry Two: Without a shadow of a doubt

I'm a sociopath, I lack empathy and as far as I can tell I also lack a conscience, I'm antisocial and intelligent, with obsessive tendencies and yes all this means I don't care and never have cared. It might seem nice to not have to care but trust me actually not caring is a nightmare, at least to me, you'd find yourself begging to be normal by the end of the day. Yes, a day is a enough to make anyone go crazy. A day was enough for Claire to kill herself, they ruled it as a suicide as I suspected but that's not what's bothering me. Instead of being suspicious of my nonchalant attitude or the fact that I didn't seem at all surprised or affected by her suicide, they just thought that I was in shock, one officer even gave me a blanket and her parents hugged me while crying. I was so confused that all I could do was hug them back, but I hated it when people touched me. It made me feel uncomfortable, I never understood why because everyone else seemed okay with it and most actually liked it, I was the only one to avoid it at all cost if possible-
"Mr. Evans!" I heard someone yell, forcing me away from my thoughts, I hated when people did that. I was in my advanced biology class, I could tell because of the book sitting on my desk. I must've spaced out for a long time, she usually snaps me out of it but she's not here anymore.
"Yes?" I asked, avoiding eye contact with the teacher by looking straight past him. Looking in people's eyes also made me feel uncomfortable, they call them the windows of the soul and that confused me greatly so I avoided them. I always avoid stuff that confuse me.
"Since you'd rather daydream than pay attention in my class, I guess you'll have no problem naming all of the bones in the human hand." He folded his arms, I continued to starebahead. "Well?" He persisted impatiently.
"Hamate, pisiform, triquetrum, lunate, scaphoid, capitate, trapezoid, trapezium, metacarpal bones, sesamoid bone, proximal phalanges, distal phalanges, and middle phalanges." I turned away, trying not to meet any of the gawking gazes of the class.
"And all the muscles?" The teacher raised an eyebrow, still not convinced although his irritation from later was wavering.
"Opponents digiti minimi, opponent pollicis, abductor digiti minimi brevis, flexor digiti minimi brevis, flexor pollicis brevis, abductor pollicis brevis, and abductor pollicis." I answered as quickly as possible, the class stood still and silent for a few seconds before the teacher finally sighed.
"I guess you were paying attention this time, Evans." He massaged the bridge of his nose, before putting his glasses back on. "Just stop spacing out." I nodded slowly. "Well then, let's get back..." He was wrong, I wasn't paying attention at all, during the summer I read through all the stuff and he asked me about something that I found interesting, something that I could remember. This teacher, how long has he been teaching me? Considering he knows my name, it must've been since the beginning of the semester but I probably don't like him since I can't remember his name but I know him, he's the strict and stressing type but not cruel. He does however give us a lot of homework each day which people might perceive as cruel, and his tests are meticulous and intricate but still neat, which makes him hardworking. His lectures run longer than other classes, and usually the students have to stay in after school, the longest I can recall is about three hours and forty-nine minutes. He's also a no nonsense type of teacher, pushing his students to their limits and expecting nothing but the very best which makes him quite unpopular with his students but, I looked back at my class, some of the girls seem to like him. The only reason I ever took this class is because the guidance counsellor insisted. "Okay, class, that is all for today. Answer all the questions from your study book, I will be checking tomorrow, and you have from page 135 to 169, including the first two lessons of the next chapter to study as tomorrow you have a quiz. I suggest you study until the words have been burned in your brains or else your chances of passing my class are irreparable low." A few students groaned which caused him to furrow his eyebrows. "If you have a problem with that, I suggest you quit my class while you still have a chance." I don't understand why people were so harshly invested in others' lives even if it had minimum effect on there's, if any effect at all.
"Hey," I felt someone tap my shoulders, I instantly snapped my head to look at them. Stepping out of their grasp, I find myself looking at brunette with dark eyes, crap I looked at her eyes. "It was so cool how you showed up the teacher."
"Yeah," I began walking to the door, only for her to follow me.
"So, my name's Lizzie." She held out her hand for me to shake but all I did was stare at it. "Okay, that wasn't awkward." She tried to brush it aside with a smile, meaning she's the outgoing and bubbly type. "I didn't catch your name."
"I never said it." I replied, heading to my locker, she continued to follow me. It took me a few seconds before I realised she expected me to return the curtesy and tell her my name. "Chris Evans."
"Cool name." Her smile widened an inch, a genuine smile that got bigger plus a continued niceness meant she's also the friendly kind. I looked at her for a moment, while that smile might be genuine there was more behind it.
"What do you want?" I asked. She took a deep breath before sighing.
"Truth is, I heard about your friend, I wanted to see if you're okay." She wasn't fazed by my bluntness, in a world full of deceitful liars and conceited two-faced megalomaniacs that's unusual. Keeping that in mind, she must be genuinely concerned about me, a complete stranger she barely knows. I didn't know what to make of that. She's either familiar with losing someone or is just that compassionate. Both are applicable.
"Thanks." I looked away, putting my biology book in my locker before closing it.
"Wait, we have a test tomorrow." She reminded.
"So?" I shrugged, walking away.
"Aren't you going to study?"
"No."
"Have you already studied?"
"No."
"Then, how're you so calm? Aren't you scared of failing?" She asks a lot of question, inquisitive or curious? Curious.
"I'm not going to fail." I answered truthfully. I'm not arrogant nor I'm I trying to be, over the course of the last few weeks I memorised the teacher's speech pattern, the stuff he pays close attention to and stuff he doesn't give a second thought, I also analysed the previous tests and found a pattern in that. I'm good with patterns, easy to remember.
"You sure are confident."
"I'm not." I pulled my hood up, put my hands in my pocket and left the building.

She was normal.