It wasn't so much that he was watching her to be creepy, that wasn't it at all. He was watching her from a distance because he hadn't seen other kids roughly his age for so long. She had blonde hair like Sophia, but she didn't remind him of Sophia in the least. He missed Sophia, he would always miss Sophia, and he would never forget the sight of her stumbling out of the Herschel's barn full of walkers, but...but he wasn't going to think about that now.
He wondered if she was a local, or if she'd been brought here from where ever she was like he had been brought here. He couldn't tell, but if he had to guess he'd say she wasn't from around here. She was too...he wasn't sure what, but something. And she was studying, from the looks of it. Reading and writing, reading and writing.
Carl had been in fourth grade when the world went to hell. He could read and write, some. Neither was his strong point. He liked numbers, and he liked science best. His spelling was atrocious, and he knew it, but he didn't really care. Reading and writing and spelling were mostly things of the past, now, where he came from.
He watched her set up her picnic lunch. Food was plentiful here, but it hadn't always been plentiful for Carl. He caught himself salivating at the sight of so much food. And before he knew it, he was moving toward her. "Hi," he said, and the shyness was no act.
He hadn't been around people much, at least not random people, for a while. And usually it involved guns and face offs and people dying when he was around people who weren't his dad and Daryl and their small group.