Strange is strange. I couldn't help but stare at the new kid in class. He had the darkest hair I'd ever seen, and I was sure there were a thousand different shades of black in that bedhead hair of his. It had been more than a week already, no wait, it's coming close to two weeks, half a month - I haven't seen him with any friends yet. Even in the corridors, during break, going home, he was always alone.

Many times I've tried to start a conversation up with him, but he always found a way to avoid people. It'd probably be an exaggerated statement to say that all kinds of life avoided his path, but that was really what it looked like. Until one rainy morning, I caught up with him around the corner to the gym.

He had the most heartwarming shade of russet brown in his eyes lined perfectly with black eyeliner and the softest, most tempting of pink lips that made up for the lack of feelings on his pallid face. I lost my balance for a moment when I saw him face to face the first time, but he moved faster than my eyes could.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice no more than a mere whisper. Quickly catching my breath, I stumbled back onto my feet and nodded my head. His grip was surprisingly firm and comfortable though he was as thin as a stick. Even when he'd let me go, I could still feel the warmth of him tingling on that little spot on my arm.

He turned to leave without missing a beat, but I managed to grab hold onto the sleeve of his shirt, causing him to drop the books and files he was carrying.

"Oh shi-" I cursed, bending down to gather his items, most of which were pieces of paper stained by scrawny scribblings. He ducked down too, trying to scoop back all his work but this time my eyes were faster.

There wasn't just something wrong with this guy - everything was wrong about him. The scribblings were little numbers that lined up to form formulas I knew weren't what we were taught in class, and the best, maybe creepiest part was that... I saw no even numbers. There were alphabets and Greek annotations, but not a single even number was in sight.

"Excuse me, this is mine..." he mumbled, not daring to make eye contact with me. Embarrassed, I quickly shoved the papers back into his hands.

"I didn't mean t-" my sentence trailed off as I looked up to explain my actions but he had already disappeared down the hallway with all his stuff gone along with him, as if we'd never crossed paths. I stood up slowly, gazing down the corridor in silence.

There was something about him I couldn't put a finger on. Just what... was it?