Psychopath

Chapter one

The world is never black and white, although many wish it were. The world had limitless shades if gray in between, which in James's eyes simply made the world a boring, colorless place. A world where extremes are frowned upon, where dull people living eventless lives was normal. James pondered over his little, gray world, as he lazily stared at the lunchroom wall. The circular table he was sitting at was full, with over a dozen of his friends chattering away about some new trend on some social app, or some lame joke they saw online, and while he could've easily joined, in today he wasn't in the mood. Instead he decided to think about his life, and the life of those around him in quiet rumination. It was becoming exhausting, truth be told, maintaining a farce of normality. Constructing the mask known as James was frustratingly complex; from the near constantly analysis of those around him to keeping track of an ever growing list of lies, he was beginning to wonder if it was truly worth the hassle. The mask was made up of many parts. A carefully painted smile, meticulously polished glass eyes feigning merriment, and most importantly a lattice of thick stitching to keep it nice and secure at all times. He often thought about tearing the damn thing off, letting his social life crumble around him, and finally being relived of the stress it all caused. But that would be an even greater hassle.

His thoughts were interrupted by the lunch bell. With an internal sigh, and an external smile, he got up, left the lunchroom with his group of friends, and began walking to his next period class.

"Hey James!"

James sighed, slowed, and turned a voice behind him. A girl, cheery eyed with a toothy smile, was speed walking toward him, her wavy, dark red hair flowing down one shoulder like a crimson waterfall. Marisa. She considered him her best friend. While it was true they had known each other since first grade, to him she was just there to benefit him. A lot of other people talked to James simply because he was friends with her, making him appear more normal. Marisa had even asked him out last year, in eighth grade. He had politely rejected her. Although it would help with his apearence of being normal, if she was texting him constantly, going on dates with him, and coming to his house, she'd realize how he actually was, and if she did she'd tell people. Unacceptable. Marisa entwined her fingers with his and leaned slightly against him. James allowed it; he'd learned form previous experience it was easier to accept then resist. Marissa looked up at him.

"Me and a couple of friends are gonna meet up at McDonalds, you wanna join?"

James considered it for a moment.

"No thanks. I'm going shopping with my mom directly after school, so I can't make it."

The lie was a good one. His mom was meeting with some friends after James came home from school, and his dad would be at work. Even if she called his home phone, no one would answer, and she would assume they were shopping. Marisa made a fake pouty face.

"Aw ok, maybe next time."

"How about tomorrow? It could just be the two of us."

For some reason Marisa smiled when he said this and perked up.

"Yeah sure! That'll be great!"

James heard the sound of the next period bell. Marisa sighed and grudgingly let go of James's hand.

"I'll text you later!" She called out and walked down the hall to Mr. Anderson's class.

James turned in the opposite direction and walked toward his next class; history with Mr. Smith.

Upon arrival, he strode over to his desk, slid into his chair, and stared at the window to his left, daydreaming while Mr. Smith droned on about a topic James knew well enough to teach if he had to. He dreamed of a world in which he didn't need to put on the mask, a world where he could just be himself. After awhile, he couldn't take the boredom any longer. He asked Mr. Smith if he could use the restroom. He said he could and James walked around the halls for a bit, clearing his head. He walked back into the room and looked at his desk. In the middle of it was a piece of folded paper. James sighed. He'd been given love letters before and found them tiresome. He sat down and grudgingly opened the letter. On it were five words. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. James eyes widened and he frantically looked around. No one was looking at him. They were all independently reading from their social studies textbook. James took out his book and pretended to read it. Who could have done this? Marisa? No, he'd been so thorough, so carful. There was no way. He had alot of people who saw him as their friend, but no one close enough to him to even suspect anything. So who? The only person who could know was someone who knew the how someone like him acted. Someone who knew what to look for. Someone who knew how someone like him thought. He flipped to the next page of his social studies book, although he was too deep in thought to care at all about what was on the page. Who could be like him? There was no one in his class who seemed like him, but if they were like him, they would try to hide it too. James took a deep breath. He had to think, narrow down the list of people it could be. He thought back to the letter. The hand writing was sloppy, meaning it was most likely written by a guy. All the girls in his class had crisp, clean handwriting. There were 12 guys in his class. Only 4 were close enough to his desk to drop this letter on his desk without crossing the room, dropping it off and walking back, which would look suspicious. There was a sharpener at the front of the room, which was probably what they used to drop the letter off. They walked past his desk, went to the sharpener and on their way back dropped it off as they passed James's desk again. So they would have to walk past his desk. There were only two guys behind him, him being in the lower left hand corner of the classroom. Brian, and Andrew. Andrew was a class clown. He got horrible grades and always made a joke of any situation. Brian was quiet. He had few friends, but the people who were his friends had only good things to say about him. He was kind, loyal, and got good grades. Not as good as James's, but still above average. James thought back on what he knew about Andrew. He had a girlfriend. They'd been going out for a year. There was no way he could be like James and be in a relationship for a year without his partner knowing the real him. So it had to be Brian. James smiled and casually looked to his right, one seat behind him. Brian was looking at his book, quietly reading. James looked back to his book and thought about how he would approach this.

James was the first one off his bus. It was a short two minute walk to his home. He was the only one in his neighborhood who went to his school, so he was allowed the luxury of walking home alone. He pondered what had happened today in class. He had to take action. The letter was an invitation. A challenge. Now James needed to reciprocate. But how? He couldn't approach him directly. Too risky. If he was wrong, it wouldn't look good. At the same time he couldn't let this challenge go unanswered. So how could he figure out if Brian was like him? After a minute, his face broke out into a huge grin as an idea began to form