How to be a Sociopath (Editing)

Entry Eleven: No one touch me.

I'm sorry man, we didn't mean to cause you trouble, we just wanted some cash.

I was sitting in a car, the scenery around me unfamiliar. I looked down at the clothes I'm wearing, I admit they were much better than the ones from before, but the jean jacket was somewhat excessive. I forced my eyes to the driver's seat where he was sitting, humming a tune to himself. "Where am I?"
"Chicago. Isn't it beautiful this time of year?" He answered without skipping a beat. That explains the ports.
"Why am I here?"
"To go to school, of course."
"You kidnapped me so I can go to school?" I raised an eyebrow.
"No, I kidnapped you because, for people like me, you're a dead man."
"So why not just kill me?"
"Do you wanna die?" He glanced at me with the corner of his eye, honestly quite intrigued. I thought about it before shrugging. "Ha, so happy I didn't kill you, kid." I don't like this, he's confusing.
"Then why am I going to school?"
"Because I believe education is very important for kids like you."
"What do you mean by kids like me?" I asked, genuinely curiously. That's the first time anybody said something like that to me, but in all honesty that's probably because I never bothered to listen.
"Did you hate them?" He asked, ignoring my question completely. Did he not want to answer? Or is it because he thinks I know the answer? Doesn't he know? I don't ask if I know.
"Who?"
"The guys who tortured you." He stuck a piece of gum in his mouth.
"Not really." I looked at the window, Chicago was a huge difference from my hometown, it was twice as big and three times as crowded.
"You're telling me not a single time did that the thought of driving a knife through their heart occur to you?"
I'm sorry man, we didn't mean to cause you trouble, we just wanted some cash.
"I wasn't angry." I replied, looking back at him. His mysterious smile grew longer.
"Well, we're here." He stopped in front a building much larger than my old school, but no one was outside. It was obviously a school, it said so in the front: Lincoln's high school. Kind of a pretentious name. "Here you go." He reached for a bag in the back of the car before handing it to me. It was heavy, probably filled with all the needed schoolbooks. This guy was really taking this seriously. What did he say his name was again? Oh yes, Dante. I knew I'd remember. "Well, off you go." He shooed me off the car before pushing me out.

I know, I know. I'm in Chicago, hundreds of miles away from my home, with no idea how I got here, and I'm actually going to class when I should be running away. It's just, I know that this makes me a hypocrite to what I've been saying all along, but if I leave now I'll never find out what's up with that guy. But you don't get it, I never get the need to do something, side-effect of being indifferent to everything, but when I do it's impossible for me not to do it. So here I stand, in front of a class full of dull students waiting for some teacher to get the unenthusiastic introduction over with. "So I hope you'll be, at the very least, humane to Mr. Edwards." Edwards? Oh yeah, that's my new name. Wait, does this mean I'm no longer Chris Evans? I guess this calls for a new personality too.
"Kai's fine too." I smiled. "It's very nice to meet you all." My seat was directly next to blonde haired guy, he was looking outside the window vacantly, not even bothering to share a glance my way. Well, anyway, I need a strategy on how to find what Dante's game is, for now let's not get caught. Which means for however long I'm in this school I can't be Chris. Being myself attracts too much attention, and knowing my mother, she's probably using everything in her power to find me. To make matters worse she's also a name partner for one of the most well-known Law firms in Manhattan. Meaning, she has connections. I know, everything I'm saying is quite odd considering the situation, most people will be glad to know that someone is looking for them if they were me, but there's something off about the guy, just like with Claire, maybe figuring what's up with him will help me find out what happened to Claire. I really hope it does.

After class, a few students gather around my desk, eagerly waiting answers for their questions. "So Kai, where are you from?"
"Boston." I forced a smile, remembering the information written in my passport.
"Seriously? You don't sound like you're from Boston."
"That's because I ditched the accent as soon as I got here."
"So how old are you?"
"Didn't you hear that it's rude to ask someone's age." They all chuckled believing that my disregard of their question was a joke. "Well, I should really get going, or else I'll be late." With that, I was finally free from their annoying jabbering. Being Kai Edwards  might prove to be quite tiresome.

Please man...