Pretending to eat in front of people is an intricate action, that requires plenty of practise to master.

You have to do lots of talking. Especially while you're cutting things up, so the person who's watching you eat gets distracted by your voice and hand movements... When they expect you to take a bite, hesitate- and ask a question. While they're answering it... bring your fork back down and cut up some more stuff. That way, they might not have been paying close enough attention, and they may believe you had taken that bite.

If it seems like they're getting a bit suspicious, instead of continuing your previous actions, try upping the anti. Ask them if you can try a bite of their food, and move it over to your plate. Offer some of yours in return, giving them a pretty big portion, and that way you have less to eat...

Or at least, less to pretend to eat.

When it gets to be too much, pretend you're full, and that you have somewhere to be.

...But, really, you didn't have to do any of that, anyways.

You only have to do that when you have someone to fool.

And you, as usual...

... Were sat completely alone in the lunch hall.

...

B-but, hey, you didn't really mind that much. Instead of having to trick people or waste time eating, you could just sit there and read, or get a head start on your homework.

That didn't really matter either, since you were terrible at science. And maths. You could be given three months to do a single worksheet, and you would probably still get a sixty on it. Only just, if the module was an easy one.

... I guess that meant a head start was a good idea, right? Better no food, and a sixty than gross cafeteria food, and a forty.

Then again... you weren't a big fan of eating in the first place, no matter where the food came from. It could have been made by Gordon Ramsay, in his finest kitchen, with the most swore-at cooks of all time, and you would still pick and prod at it, rather than actually eating and digesting it.

...You didn't need it. You were too big as it was.

You just...

You were just trying to lose some weight. Work on your summer body.

Anyways, the only thing you really liked about school was English class, when usually people were just excited to get to lunch period, too focused on the prospect of food and chat to pay attention to actual academics. You just didn't like it.

Too much temptation.

One of the biggest issues was that you were glaringly self conscious, and at lunch time, it was so much worse... You felt like everyone was staring at you, and every time they would laugh or snicker, you felt as though it was directed towards you.

You had this strange battle in your mind, where you simultaneously felt like everyone was judging you, but at the same time you knew nobody even knew you existed.

It was like being in a dark room, alone, surrounded on all sides by prying, judgmental eyes. There was no way you could confront them, there was no way you could know what they were going to do, all they would do is watch, and wait, like a predator, and the snickers were like deep breaths, the sharp sound of teeth parting, and every look made you feel smaller and smaller and...

E... especially when it came from the table at the front of the room.

The table at the front of the room was where the 'popular' kids were sat, telling jokes, laughing, and eating. Like in a shit movie.

You hated them, and at the same time you were incredibly, unhealthily envious of them.

Their table was full (as per usual), but really, there were only four star students. Their personalities (or lack thereof) seemed to overshadow everyone else in the room, easily recognisable, like a huge oak tree in a forest of tiny shrubs.

The main bitch, the queen bee, the alpha female... that was, without a doubt, Melanie. She had a gorgeous, shiny bronze tan that you wouldn't even know was fake, her hair was bleached yet somehow seemed to shine, and she exuded power and dominance like thick smoke, luring anyone who came near. Actually, no... like honey. It looked sweet and safe and shimmery, but once you got closer, it was sticky, and you were trapped in it, drowning in it. Her gaze was sharp and merciless, perfect smile like a snake to anyone who knew her better. Her body type was... well, perfect again, in the conventional sense. Curvy but just the right amount of skinny, a long athletic stance, and rounded, upright breasts (implants). People drooled when she walked by, following behind like lost puppies, all wishing the same thing- if they did what she said and followed her lead, maybe, just maybe , they could fuck her, or be granted her favour.

And most of them have done the former. She knew how to twist hearts, she knew how to manipulate people with her charm and sweetness. She was a poisonous flower. Beautiful, but deadly.

Moving away from the evil queen of the night, there was Jess Smith, the usual grin plastered on her face and tinkling giggle when Melanie said something that could even vaguely class as funny, like a repeating laugh track on a below-average comedy show.

Jess was... Melanie's shadow.

She did whatever she said, without question, without hesitation, in exchange for the place of second in command. Like, once, back in grade school, Melanie dared Jess to cut your hair with a pair of paper scissors.

And... she did it.

Not even waiting long enough to grab the correct pair of scissors.

Lucky for you, it wasn't as high as it could've been, and you spent the rest of that year with only shoulder length hair. But still... such a slave.

She was very attractive, though. Perhaps that was the only reason Melanie kept her around longer than the other second in commands that had been and gone... Black long hair, and hazel green eyes that sparkled with intelligence when she looked up. If she weren't a lifeless robot, you would probably be into her, too.

And then there's Chad Miller. Chad was... the alpha male, in a sense (because Melanie allowed it). He threw all of the high school parties, and he always had weed on him. He was everyone's 'friend' and people adored him, like he was a dumb dog. That would be fine, if it weren't for the fact he was a complete, utter whore .

You usually wouldn't have a problem with people who slept around. Hell, if it was fun for them and nobody got hurt, go ahead! It's not the 1950s, you own your body. It was just...

Well, he slept with anything that breathed, and used girls as if they were just there for his personal entertainment. Honestly, that's probably what he thought they were there for. He'd fuck them and throw them away, and his attitude toward females in general was, in one word, sickening.

But like the others, he was incredibly beautiful, and thus part of the group. Ashy blonde hair, and baby blue eyes that reminded you of ice catching light on a sunny day. He was a funny guy, he just... didn't seem to have a heart. Or a brain.

... And last, but definitely not least, there was Sans.

Sans Aster. He was a monster, a skeleton, to be more precise. Which... made it seem strange that he would be part of the Big Four. Monsters would be put down by humans like those who sat at the high table. Except... he was honestly the single most gorgeous person you've ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes upon. You were never really attracted to humans that often, so it made sense that the one person you found attractive would be a skeleton monster.

Strong jaw, fused bones that flexed like skin, deep sockets with glinting white pinprick eyelights reminiscent of stars in the night sky. Broad shouldered and tall, always wearing that stupidly enchanting lazy smile.

The thing that was the most different about Sans, was the fact that unlike the others, he wasn't really an asshole in any way. Where Chad was sexist, Jess empty, and Melanie utterly two-faced, Sans was friendly to anyone and everyone, skilled in conversation, witty, and always there to lend a hand when needed. Never prejudiced, never raising his tone, eyelights soft and posture lazy and open. He was always the favourite of the group, and it was quite obvious that they all fought over him and who was his closest friend.

It was kind of sad, and reminded you of middle school.

The only downside that you could ever see in Sans, was the fact that he was... with Melanie. She told everyone about them, and about how often they have sex and how he's the best boyfriend.

You were jealous, and you didn't even know why. It stung you somewhere in your chest. He had never spoken to you before, so it's not like there was ever a chance he would like you, or even know you exist . C'mon, how could he? You were just... you. Nothing special. You weren't even decentlooking. He would never want somebody like you.

You sighed, aware that you'd just read the same line in your book four times.

He liked pretty and popular girls.

And you were neither.

...You hadn't even realised you were staring over at the table and not at your book anymore, until you... you made...

Eye contact with Sans.

With those beautiful stars in black sockets, that seemed to suck you in endlessly.

Your heart pounded .

You felt your entire body tense up momentarily, and you quickly looked away, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you.

It was terrifying and at the same time, having his attention for even a split second was enough to make your body tingle. You had goosebumps all over, up and down your arms, and you felt lightheaded for a second, dizzy, elated .

You wished he always looked at you. You wished he liked you.

...You weren't the type of person to ever sleep around, still being a virgin, but... if you had the opportunity to sleep with Sans, you would take it in a single heartbeat. He was so perfect that you would let him use you, willingly.

But of course, that would never happen. Not in a million years. One reason was he wasn't the type to sleep around either, and the other being the fact that he would never find you sexually appealing.

Never.

...When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of lunch, you quickly got up, grabbing your book, and left to go to your locker. Your entire body was still all tingly, and you felt somewhat high.

Or at least, that's what you would imagine it to feel like.

You walked through the halls, trying to avoid eye contact with everybody, still riding the wave of eye contact with Sans, still picturing those beautiful lights, but finding it hard to get around in the massive ocean of people. Everybody was so loud and you always got pushed around by peoples shoulders, usually unintentionally. You were just too short, and people just didn't notice you were even there.

Invisible.

You could see the main four up in front of you, between the sea of shoulders. Melanie and Jess were laughing at some girl ahead of them, who was a bit overweight, and it made your heart hurt for her, dizzy light from Sans's sockets finally wearing off. On the other side of them, was Chad, who was flirting with some Freshman girl, clearly new to the school. A new victim. And then Sans was on his phone, while walking. He was taller than you, so he never got bumped into, and he somehow managed to not walk into anybody.

He was just that good, apparently.

He was Godlike.

Perfect.

You turned a corner, and ended up at your locker, finally, and quickly put in your combination.

Turn it to the right three times, and stop on three. Turn left once fully, passing the first number, and then stop on seven. Turn to the right and stop on one. Unlocked.

When it opened, you put your book up on the shelf, and grabbed your notebook needed for taking notes in the next class. Math. The other subject you were complete trash at.

... You sighed, shoulders dropping. Oh well.

As you were about to close your locker, your phone vibrated, alerting you that you had received a text message...

...You pulled your phone out of your pocket, knowing exactly who the sender would be.

Who else but your stalker, of course.

Yeah, that's right. You turned away from the locker for a moment.

Your stalker.

The only person who ever gave you any attention just so happened to be the one person you didn't want attention from. He just started to text you one day, completely anonymous. He didn't give you his name, and he always made sure you knew he loved you, and that you were beautiful. You mattered, and you were important.

But no, you knew better. He just had some sort of sick obsession with you.

You didn't understand it at all. There were better victims, and honestly at first you were pretty sure it was just a prank set up by Melanie to make you feel like you mattered, and then she would reveal it was all fake in front of everyone to humiliate you.

you didn't eat today, baby girl.

You felt a bit nauseated as you read over the text message. He had been watching you at lunch. You weren't surprised in the least, but it still made you incredibly uncomfortable. It left you feeling like an animal on display, completely defenseless and being watched twenty-four seven, unable to put a stop to it, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You had to admit, a part of you didn't really want to know who he was. Because if you found out, you could tell the police... You had to, right? That's what a sane person would do. But you knew in the back of your mind, if you did that, you would be all alone again. Nobody would give you attention anymore.

But at the same time, you wanted him to go away.

Sometimes, you really didn't know why you even responded to him. If you ignored him long enough he would give up, wouldn't he? Then you wouldn't even have to find out and turn him in. He would just... be gone.

But in the end, you were never really able to resist. You almost always replied. It wasn't like anybody else ever gave you attention, anyways. At least you got it somehow. Some where.

Too bad nobody cares enough to make me.

While that was true, it wasn't like you were in any danger. You were in complete control and were just watching what you ate. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that, and you definitely didn't need your stalker telling you to eat.

You were fine.

You shut your locker, notebook and phone in hand, and started making your way towards the classroom. Once math class was over, the rest of the day was easy sailing.

English and then study hall. A walk on the beach, compared to what you were going into now.

But... Hey. At least the teacher was kind and somewhat lenient. If you did poorly at the end of the semester, he usually rounded up your grade. Mr. Johnson was cool like that, and you always ended up smiling at least once in his class because he was such a funny dude... It almost sounded like you had a crush on him, when you really thought about it.

Too bad he's like... sixty years old.

Walking into the room, you sat in the back, as per usual. Back there, you could daydream, and look out the window, so you had something to do other than be completely confused and feel like an idiot.

Some drank from the fountain of knowledge, but apparently, you just... gargled.

Your phone vibrated again, and you quickly looked up at Mr. Johnson to make sure he wasn't glancing in your general direction. He was writing the pages you had to do in your textbook on the chalkboard, so you held your phone underneath your desk, and opened the message.

i care, sweetheart.

You almost scoffed as you read the message. If he ' cared', why wasn't he talking to you in person? Why was he hiding behind a phone like a coward instead of confronting you face to face!? It was inexcusable, and he didn't give a flying fuck about you.

You decided not to reply this time.

You turned the screen off on your phone, and you put it back into your pocket, before giving your full attention to Mr. Johnson. He had finished writing down the assignment on the board, and you pulled the textbook out from underneath the desk before turning your notebook to a clean sheet of paper.

You knew the first question, that one you managed to tick off quickly, but... the rest of them you really struggled with.

You had been stuck on number two for over twelve minutes, looking over the question several times in the hopes of mysteriously discovering the key and wasting time by curling your hair around the pencil and filling in the blank spaces in the numbers, when your phone went off again. You almost didn't want to look at it, but you were getting sick of looking at the equation... Looking at that evil jumble of numbers and letters that made absolutely no sense.

Your eyes darted upwards. Mr. Johnson, again, wasn't paying any attention to you.

Sometimes it payed off to be invisible.

You took your phone back out, slowly, and looked at the text message under the desk.

x = 8, y = 13

You blinked, and then looked around the classroom, but... nobody else was on their phone. They were all concentrating on the test, some with tight postures and confusion on their faces, others with relaxation and boredom.

... How the fuck did he know what question you were looking at!?

You turned around and looked out of the window, half expecting to see a tall man dressed in dark clothes, sunglasses, and a top hat, perhaps even taking pictures of you. But... no.

There was... nobody there.

The courtyard was as empty as a birds nest in December.

... You looked back down at your phone, and quickly typed out a response, one-handed so as to appear like you were still writing if Mr. Johnson looked over.... Which he probably wouldn't, but still.

Who the fuck are you?

Honestly, a small part of you was still afraid to figure that out. What if it really was all set up by Melanie? Then when you figured it out, he would go away. Nobody would pay attention to you anymore, and you'd be all alone again.

: i'm yours

...

You actually gagged a little. Did he have a return policy?

: aww, c'mon now. don't be like that.

...You felt every hair on your body stand up, and you started to shake slightly when you read that. How did he see your reaction? Where the fuckwas he? He definitely wasn't in your class, and you knew that because of the lack of cell phones, so now you were kind of terrified. The answer earlier could've been him just knowing you had math class right now, which he did, and you knew because one time he had to remind you back during the first week of school... but you couldn't come up with any excuses for that. Sure, he could've guessed your reaction, but he had said itright after you cringed.

You felt slightly nauseous.