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“Nothing important. I just have to return something.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I know you have a lot of homework.”

She sighs. “Don’t remind me.”

I spot the city bus a block away. “I’ll text you.”

“You better,” she calls as I race to the stop.

I pull out my bus card so it’s ready to scan. I don’t want to be that person who makes everyone late because they’re trying to fish the card out of their bag after they’re already on the bus.

I wait as all of the other kids get on first. It’s only fair since they’ve been waiting longer. Daniel gets on about halfway through the group, but I keep a close eye on him. He heads to the back of the bus, which doesn’t surprise me at all.

When it’s finally my turn, I jump up and scan my card, smiling ear to ear. “Hello,” I say to the bus driver.

I walk to the back. The bus starts moving, making me wobble, but I refuse to sit down in the front. There is an empty spot with my name on it right next to Daniel. He doesn’t know it yet, but we have plans.

He rests his head on the window, and then his gaze meets mine.

I smile and wave.

He tries not to show any emotion, but his eyebrow twitches.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not enjoying this just a little.Because he acts like he doesn’t care about anything, it’s fun to get a reaction, no matter how small, out of him.

I sit. “Thought you could get rid of me?”

“Do I need a restraining order?” he mumbles.

My lips curve upwards. “Was that a joke?” I didn’t know he was capable of making those.

He closes his eyes. “No. It was a threat.”

“Just tell me what you want. What’s your wildest dream? Then, I’ll get it for you and leave you alone forever. You have my word.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later. If I tell you now, you won’t go along with it.”

He huffs. I imagine his eyes rolling even though they’re closed. “You’re a stalker.”

Me, the stalker? I’m not the one who’s been watching him non-stop for the last week and a half. That’s Annie. I haven’t even done much.

Well . . . I am following him home . . .

Oh man, I am a stalker.

Temporarilya stalker.

But I don’t want this. I’d rather be as far away from this guy as possible.

“I’m not stalking. I’m just stubborn, and apparently so are you.” I hug my backpack and use it as a pillow. “Is it so hard to think of one thing you want? Don’t you like anything? Games, food, music? Or is your soul so dark nothing brings you joy?”

I might as well be sitting next to a brick wall. He turns toward the window and no matter how many times I try to talk to him, he doesn’t reply. It’s like he’s tuned me out which is not something I’m used to. I’m the type of person thatalways has someone to talk to. I’m not the most popular person in our school, but I’m definitely not a nobody. People love to talk with me.

Because talking clearly isn’t working, I tap his shoulder a few times, trying to get a reaction.