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“He’s crazy, I’m telling you!” Holly said emphatically, flopping down on her mattress and staring up at the pink and white canopy. “He’s like… a total psycho!”

Her friends nodded in agreement.

The whole school was talking about it – the weird older guy who had hit on Holly and then punched a window when she rejected him.

“I can’t believe he busted that glass,” Marianne murmured. “My boyfriend was playing hockey in the pit one day? And they accidentally sent a slapshot at it? Didn’t even dent it.”

Holly’s nostrils flared. Today wasn’t about Marianne and her stupid boyfriend. Today was about Holly. It was her trauma.

“Did you see his hand?” Chelsea shrieked, screwing up her face. “So much blood. Like, everywhere!”

“What did he want?” Sabrina asked, looking intently at Holly. She hadn’t been there; she always stacked her lunch and free periods in the mornings so that she could work at the shitty bakery up the road.

“What do you mean?” Holly sniffed, still annoyed with Marianne. If I had a nickel for every time she said ‘my boyfriend’…

“Well, if he isn’t a student, he was there for something, right? Was he looking for you? Is he, like, stalking you or something?”

A stalker. That would be a good story. But before Holly could speak Marianne piped up.

“Oh, he was looking for Laney Hawton,” she said.

Holly glared at her. Stupid bitch, can’t let anyone else have one goddamn second of attention…

“Hawton?” Sabrina asked, sitting up with interest.

“Yeah, you know, that really pretty blonde girl in ninth… the short one.”

“She has a brother, right?” Sabrina asked.

Holly could feel the room slipping away from her.

“Yes,” Chelsea said. “I’ve seen them together sometimes after school. He’s in elementary school, though.”

Sabrina started giggling and doubled over, laughing so hard she was almost crying.

“What exactly is so funny?” Holly asked, a sharp edge to her tone. “This prick was threatening me!”

“Oh, save it,” Sabrina choked out, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t even need to be there to know he was blowing you off.”

“You bitch!” Holly roared, but Sabrina kept laughing.

“His name is Shane Mathers,” she said. There was a whooshing noise as Chelsea and Marianne both sucked in their breath, delighted by this new development – that Sabrina knew him.

“And how could you possibly know that?” Holly sniffed.

“Tall? Messy dark hair? Cheekbones for days and eyes you could drown in?”

Holly crossed her arms.

“Thought so. There’s only one guy in this town that could make this big of an impression on a girl in under ten minutes while blindly, singularly focused on a Hawton. And that’s Shane.”

“How do you know him?” Marianne breathed.

She shrugged but puffed up her chest at the attention. “He works at the bakery, with me.”

A flurry of questions.

Holly felt like curdled milk.

Later, when Sabrina went to leave, she put her hand on Holly’s arm, a softer look on her face.

“Sometimes I wonder what it might be like, to have his attention. Like, really have it.” She frowned. “Laney is a lucky girl. But maybe… so are we. I don’t think he’s… good, Holly. I think he wants to be, but he isn’t.” Then she squeezed Holly’s arm and left.