Most people wouldn't want to sit by themselves at lunch.
Most people would try to make friends.
Most people would feel insecure and bad about it.
Most people wouldn't like it.
But Henry was Henry – he wasn't most people.
He would sit at the table in the corner, plug his earphones it, jam, and do the homework he hadn't done the night before for his afternoon classes. He didn't care if anybody looked at him, or pitied him – because he didn't pity himself. He was cocky like that. He was a rebel, and a loner – and he liked his label.
Henry got along with people in school. He had some peoples' phone numbers, occasionally got a random facebook chat or text message. But only occasionally. He never sent the first message. He had no interest. Most people would think they weren't good enough for everyone else, but the artistic, intelligent, incredibly mature for his age Henry thought they weren't good enough for him.
It wasn't a matter of good enough though – it was a matter of fitting. Like puzzle pieces, or a pair of jeans. And it just so happened that nobody fit with Henry and Henry didn't fit with them.
He also didn't fit through the doorway at the same time as another human being. They were thin doorways, and he didn't see her there. Normally he would have just muttered an apology and let her go, but they both walked through, full speed, bumping each other and she fell to the other side, her books scattering everywhere.
People laughed, and a few stopped to help her gather her stuff. Henry pulled the earbuds out of his ear and got on his knee and helped her up.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Yeah." She said quickly, keeping her head down and picking up her stuff.
"I'm sorry." Henry added.
"It's fine." She said. Henry reached down and picked up a book of sheet music – Mozart. He was about to ask her if she played but she snatched the book, and walked away before he could.
Henry watched the brown curls bounce gently against her back as she walked. He recognized the curls. He realized she sat in front of him in 1….2…3…4 classes. She had been in his 5th grade music class. He remembered now, he had known her for a while.
Nicole…Natasha…Nancy…Natalie. That was it…Natalie. Henry thought about her as he walked down the hallway. Natalie Goodman. Henry remembered her name even better now – because her name was called 5 times at 8th grade graduation with no response. She hadn't shown up. He'd always wondered why – why wouldn't you go to graduation? Henry racked his brain – he remembered finding out why she hadn't shown up, but he couldn't remember the reason.
Something about her mom.
Something about their 5 second encounter in the hallway intrigued Henry. Probably the piano music. Henry wondered to himself if she played. But in a few weeks, after acting on his odd interest in Natalie, he would answer his own question.
Reviews? Please :D It would be much appreciated. Thanks so much, hope you enjoyed!