at. It is just that her face keeps showing up when I close my eyes. Those steady eyes, that

ng. I have had crushes before. I have had

Westbrook's front gates,

nts drift in small circles like planets with their own gravit

ill damp from an early run. "You missed the group

her fish. I

"You never skip an

as t

that is a lie. Maybe it is. But

ers, promises of magic under the stars. I have never cared about dances. They

ing anyone

ably

always brin

aybe I am

whispers moves through the hall.

o be. Same messy bun, same calm posture. Her uniform still does not fit the Westbrook m

nsfer, I heard. She has Mas

k ready, voice smooth. I cannot hear what he is saying, but I know the t

e falter. His friends laugh uncertainly, and she walks away, leav

ell damn. She did

y, watching her disa

who might actually be immune to charm. Half the guys are curious, half the girls are alre

r the window, the one no one ever uses. The sunlight still finds it,

gaze. "You are

am

t is weirdl

your

able. I take another bite of my sandwich, pretending

fferent. Sharper. He whispers something to his friends and they st

, I feel my jaw tighten. She pauses, looks down at the spilled pens and papers, then lo

things, and goes back to wr

n. Everyone did. When she gives him none, he looks s

rs, "That

art,"

e. "You really

am

ig

aybe

. When the final bell rings, I find myself walking toward the library instead of

e. Hardly anyone comes here after hours except the serious students or th

by the window again, the

speaking. "You alway

prised. "You always

interest

book. "You should t

out a chair across fro

, act

nyway.

does not tel

the soft scratch of her pen. I lean back, studying her face. She has the

"You like W

p. "Is that what th

und imp

und b

. "That c

meeting mine. "Does that li

ual

they set the

rson in a long time who talks to me like I am no

, I ask, "You

want to forge

t read all th

. "You cat

wanting to know more - her name, her story, why she looks at the wo

I glance at the clock. We have bee

escaping

tod

lder, stands, and looks down at

cap

ng r

think of a response, she turns and walks out, lea

ere, trying to figure out

ay, it sta

though she sits near the back and barely speaks. People are curious about

, small comments, fake smiles. I notice her brushing them off, the sa

ls water on her bag. She does not react, just takes it

back steps, cleaning the soaked pages of

wall beside her.

look up. "I h

ld tell

what they wan

something underneath it. Not fea

t let them get

eyes unreadable.

wer. Maybe because I see too much of myself in that quiet d

I admit. "Maybe

ng it but not pushing either. "Th

embered

get when people ke

"What do they wh

e you want. That you do not care a

t do you

think you care a lot mo

kes me

smell of rain. She closes her notebook, stands, and loo

around,"

name, leaving me standing there with

is

e I have been waiting fo

nd of her voice replaying in my mind. For the first time

osity. Maybe it

y, I know

is, it is no