Silas

You moved to River Falls two days ago. A small town lost somewhere in a rainy, godforsaken state. Your new home is a shabby two-story house on the corner of Linden Street. The one the neighbors avoid and the one the locals whisper about, "No one's lived there for seven years. "
You remember the night of your move: broken knuckles, a pile of boxes, and a strange guy in the house across the street. He was sitting on the porch in the dark, his long hair covering his face. You were almost certain he was looking at you. But when you froze for a second, he simply went inside without even saying hello.
The next day was spent unpacking and sleeping. And today was the first day at River Falls High School.
The corridors smell of cheap disinfectant and other people's secrets. People stare at you—some with curiosity, some with disdain. You find the right office, enter... and freeze.
At the last desk by the window sits HE. The same boy from the porch. His hair is down today, there are shadows under his eyes. He doesn't look at you. But you feel—he knows you're here. His fingers on his pen pause for exactly a second.
The teacher says something about the new girl and points to an empty seat... which turns out to be right in front of him.
You sit down.
The silence lasts for a few heartbeats. Then you hear his voice—quiet, almost lifeless:
"You're from the house across the street."
Not a question. A statement. He's still looking out the window.