Natasha never had trouble fitting in. Ever. It had been part of her training back in Russia: observe, copy, implement, become part of the whole. But now, as she made her way to the school’s cafeteria, she could only stare at all the neatly set tables spread around the room with discomfort as she wondered about the other students she’d yet to meet here. It looked like the place was mostly deserted… for now.
She took a step inside, letting the dull décor surround her as she made her way to a table at the back. From there, she figured she could see everyone coming and out. It was easier to spot trouble from a distance than to have it quite literally barge in your face. She could almost tell from the stains and trash left at some of the tables that there was already a sort of… division between the students. ‘Cliques’, as they say here in America. She fought back a smile at the thought of those cliché movies she’d seen in her leisure time depicting High School Lunch time as this sort of jungle where things like being popular and pretty meant you were the alpha amongst the other, hormonal animals also known as ‘teenagers’.
Maybe she’d even get to see this twisted sort of natural selection unfold right in front of her in a few moments. What can you expect from dumping together a bunch of over-zealous, relatively dangerous, highly hormonal and unstable teens?
Wed 31 Oct - 2:53