Time frame: Senior year. (And this is kind going on the assumption of no PP.)

Also damn, I have no idea why this one got so long. It just did. And this is the first time I've written in the first-person past-tense since.. I can't even remember the last time. Crazy! I used to only write in this style. It feels like slipping into an old pair of shoes and finding that they still fit but you have to break them in again. It's bittersweet. Anyway, enjoy!

Stranger

x - x - x

I paused on the bottom step, shifting weight between my two feet. I was itching to fly, or sprint, or lay face down on the cool gray pavement. It was that time of year when everything started to smell like autumn. A warm smell, even though the air was biting. Like someone was always cooking something just around the corner.

The stream of students veered around me in a V formation. I was like a rock in a river. Some of them cast me furtive glances, thinking I wouldn't notice. I always pretended not to.

I couldn't remember the last time I was the only one of us three at school. Probably freshman year, that time Tucker drank out of Sam's water bottle and it turned out he had strep and they were both out for a week. God, was she pissed. School was tolerable when I had Sam and Tuck as a buffer. It was only when they were gone that I remembered what a truly lonely world I had crafted for myself.

My beaten converse made no sound against the cracked gray asphalt. My footsteps were so light I could sneak up on a rabbit in the dead of night, no problem. Another day I might have turned left at Borden Road to head toward the Nasty Burger, or else I'd be continuing straight down Flint walking homeward with Sam and Tuck. Or I'd be heading straight upward along a gust of wind, starting an early patrol. But today I felt like going nowhere at all.

I was never without at least one of my friends at school. It was actually funny how goody-two-shoes we all really were, considering what the teachers thought of us. (Truants, delinquents, criminals, what-have-you.) No, the truth was that we tried our damndest to be in class since we (namely, me) were so often deprived of the opportunity. We really did want to be there. Not that the teachers ever believed that one. Right up there with 'my ghost dog ate it' and 'I didn't do my homework because I was trapped in a net all night.'

So when I dropped in through Tucker's ceiling to snag him on my way to school this morning and found him throwing up, I'm ashamed to say I felt sorrier for myself than for him. He would get a day off school. Yeah granted, a sickly one. But at least he'd be home. The catch is that Sam was currently on a mandatory cruise with her parents in Alaska. So with Tuck out of the running, I would get a fun-filled day of self-enforced solitude and loneliness. Joy.

At least I could admit to myself what a shitty selfish friend I was being. That's gotta count for something.

To make up for it I phased quietly into his kitchen to snag him a fresh bottle of water from the fridge, and brought his laptop from the coffee table. Didn't matter. I still felt like a piece of shit, because I still felt sorrier for myself when I flew away alone toward Casper High.

Instead of going to Tuck's after school, or home, I walked north, which was a direction no student took home from school since it led past a district of abandoned warehouses and then straight into the woods.

These days when I traveled alone I typically defaulted into flying, for the ease and speed of it. But today I wasn't feeling it. The leaves crunching under my feet were comforting.

It was 3:19, which meant Amity probably wouldn't need me for patrol for a solid few hours. The heights of spectral activity came roughly in six hour intervals, peaking at 7am, just in time to make me late for school, 1pm, just in time to screw with my lunch hour, 7pm, just in time to keep me from having any sort of social life, and 1am, just in time to make sure I never got a proper amount of sleep. So I had roughly three hours to screw around things began to pick up pace in town.

The last warehouse on the left had broken boards nailed over shattered windows, drainage pooling around gutters at the base, paint long peeled away over gritty red bricks. It wasn't the worst but it was the last, the final salute to Amity Park as I disappeared into the thick woods. What a joke. The dirt crunched softly under my soles as I followed the incline, weaving between aspens and undergrowth. As I got higher I could look back and see Amity sprawling out below, like a tiny toy town. It looked skeletal. Frail. Everything looked frailer from high in the air, and I would know.

As I came upon a wide clearing, several blackened tree stumps in the middle, I realized with a jolt that it was familiar. Sam and Tuck and I used to come here train back in the beginning of sophomore year. I slowed, frowning at the gnarled stumps. They resembled charcoal more than wood. The ground here was dead. No grass, no insects even. The trees bordering the clearing looked half alive – the branches facing inward were curled and dry. As I watched, one blue jay flew down, alighting on the ground for a moment. It skipped once, twice, thrice, before flying away quickly.

No food here. No anything.

I hoisted the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder and continued on, hands deep in my pockets, frown deeper than that. It was only one moment of anger, one moment of frustration. I remembered thinking if I couldn't nail duplication then I'd never stand a chance against Vlad, and after months of practice I had lost my patience, venting it on the forest itself. Even nearly two years later, the clearing still hadn't come back to life.

Needless to say, I didn't take my anger out on trees anymore.

After ten minutes of walking I came upon a shallow creek, which I found by following the musical trickling sound. As I neared it I startled away three dear who never heard me coming. Animals, they tended to run away from me. I think they knew what I was. They sensed it, the way they sensed wolves. Predators. That knowledge twisted my stomach.

I followed the stream for maybe a mile, stepping nimbly over roots and boulders, hearing squirrels skitter away in all directions warily as I approached. The forest was alive with animal sounds, but they steered wide around me, even the dragonflies and the grasshoppers.

Heh. Just like at school. Humans could sense predators too, but they called it intuition instead of instinct. The students didn't know why they avoided me, they just did because their gut told them to.

Soon I came out into what looked like an electrical plant, or an industrial yard or something. I'd seen this place from the air before but I'd never actually come here on foot. A tall chain link fence surrounded it, and beyond that there were these heavy metal machines fixed with coils, looking like some cross between arcade games and colossal refrigerators. In the center a giant structure rose up like a miniature Eiffel tower.

I didn't know what exactly this place was for, but I knew one thing for sure. "Danger: Keep Out" signs never applied to me.

A deep mechanical whirring came from the machines as I slipped silently between them, all humming in different tones like a strange industrial choir of monks. I smirked at the second "Danger: Keep Out" sign and walked straight through it, literally through it as I phased through the inner fence which surrounded the Eiffel tower structure.

I was no good at math, so my estimate of its height would be so off it wasn't even worth guessing. Besides, I could just fly up there if I wanted. But.. I didn't want. I wanted to climb it.

So I did.

Thick bars crisscrossed the massive sloping cylindrical columns, like the supports on a bridge. It made for perfect stepping stones in my ascent. I'd never been rock climbing or anything like that, but you'd be surprised how confident you become when you can fly. I mean, it's not like I was going to fall. An amused grin crept onto my face at the thought.

Step, rise, grab. Step, rise, grab. The steel was cold and the mountain air was colder, but unlike most people I liked the cold. It was as comfortable as a wool blanket around me. It energized me.

If this was a book, some romanticized piece of crap I'd be assigned in English, I might say that with each step upward I left my problems farther behind. But life didn't work that way, and even though I'd left Amity Park behind I knew I was just going to be returning within an hour or two. The fresh forest air brought no relief, no relaxation. A predator was always on their toes. I was never off my toes. Always, always poised to spring.

I settled on my ass about two thirds up the structure, on a wide ledge far above the tree line. I was a few miles from the edge of the city now and much, much higher in elevation. I could see the school from here, and the neighborhoods stretching out into the distance. I might have even been able to see FentonWorks, but there was a large apartment building blocking it from sight. But really, I was kind of glad I couldn't see it.

I shrugged off my backpack, thinking maybe I could get some homework done from up here before patrol later on. It was hard not to laugh at the irony. That I trudged all the way out here in willful ignorance of the disaster that is my life, but even here in the middle of nowhere I'm no farther from it. That all I could think when looking out over the city with a fierce hold on me, is that at least I'd be able to see any ghost from here since my sense wouldn't alert me from this great a distance.

I didn't try to tell myself I didn't choose this life any more, or that I didn't want it. God knows I had enough chances to walk away from it. But I didn't. That's the real bite in the ass, I think. This hell I lived in was of my own devising.

Real funny. Har har.

Days like this were the hardest. It wasn't the days where I got home bleeding out every orifice, and it wasn't the days when I got home so late the light was coming over the mountains already and Mom and Dad were up waiting for me with that haunted look in their eyes. It wasn't even the days when Tuck or Sam got hurt, because god knows we were all used to it.

It was days like this, where the universe reared up and reminded me how completely and utterly alone I really was.

My chemistry notes were only half-complete, because I'd had to run out in the middle of class to deal with a ghost. As I tried to answer the first question my mechanical pencil snapped in my hand and the top half fell over the edge to the ground below. I cursed and threw the second half so far it landed beyond the outer chain link fence.

Days like this were days where I just wanted to blast away everything, like I did to that clearing. I wanted to freeze the forest solid and then punch every tree down. I wanted to blow a crater a mile wide into the ground and then scream until my scream turned into a wail, sonic waves flattening everything within a mile's radius.

But instead I just snapped pencils on accident, rendering homework impossible.

In frustration I ripped away my useless page of notes and crumpled it viciously, throwing it away. It tumbled to the ground, swept far to the left by the breeze. Balls of paper were immensely less aerodynamic than pencils. Strangely, throwing away my notes relieved the frustration, if only a little bit.

I'd promised myself I could get through the day, but I didn't even get through the intersection next to Tuck's apartment complex before getting sideswiped by Skulker's latest plaything, five feet of whirling razor sharp boomerang. Unfortunately for me, I was so focused on dodging it that I didn't realize it was a boomerang until it came hurtling back, and this time I dodged just a hair too late. Pain sliced through my right cheek just under my eye, and nicked straight through my eyebrow. One millimeter closer and I might have added half-blind to the list of what shit I am half of.

I didn't need to check the time to know I was going to be late to class as I reared back with a buildup of raw energy in the palm of my hand, arms cocked like a hunter with a bow as the other hunter charged me down high above the line of cars, most of which had come to a screeching halt to watch the ghost fight play out. It couldn't have been past 7:15am and my patience was already gone. I let out a furious growl and let the blast fly.

I ripped out another piece of paper from the notebook on my lap. This one was supposed to be my in-class English essay. There was only one paragraph written, since I'd gotten to class thirty minutes late. Mr. Laramie wouldn't even accept it. I crumpled it too and threw it away. It landed near the base of the structure, a tiny white speck upon the ground.

I was only twenty minutes late to first hour. 'Only' to me. 'Already' to Ms. Johnson, who had recently given up on assigning me detentions. (Most every member of the faculty had given up on me in some manner or another.) My favorite was the counselor they hired to replace Spectra. Back in sophomore year I was required to see her on a weekly basis for months. They were so sure I would crack, tell them what the hell was wrong with me. You know, spill my guts, tell them my angsty teenage problems, maybe admit I was heading a gang or dealing weed.

When junior year began they stopped forcing me to go. I overheard the words 'lost cause' in the parent-teacher conference and I've never smiled wider. Let them think whatever they wanted, as long as they left me alone.

I tore out a third piece of paper and wadded it, like it had personally affronted me.

There was only one person today who was actually nice to me, and I'd gone and been rude to him. It was self-destructive and self-preserving behavior, somehow wrapped into one stupid habit I continually repeated. Pushing people away.

It was in sixth hour when Mr. Wright had given us the option to work alone or with partners on the math homework, which he'd given us time in class to work on.

"Wanna work with me?"

I stared at Mikey for a second, not sure whether I was dreaming or not. We used to be pretty good friends in middle school, but I hadn't even had a real conversation with him since sophomore year. "Um.. thanks Mikey, but I think I should probably just work alone. Helps me focus better," I added lamely.

Mikey's anxious smile fell into a pitying look. "Don't be such a stranger, Danny."

Mikey, baby, I'm stranger than you think.

"You don't have to be alone all the time you know."

I glared at him without even thinking. "Maybe I'm better off alone," I snapped, and stared at my paper without comprehending any of the math questions until he left my desk.

Growling in frustration I ripped out a fourth piece of paper violently, but I hesitated before I crumpled it, my eye caught by something coming in from the west. It was a kid, shaggy blond hair and slumping shoulders, climbing over the fence. I nearly went invisible and flew away instantly, but what if he'd already seen me? I couldn't tell where he was looking from here, and it wouldn't do to if he saw me vanish. So instead I pulled my legs up from over the ledge and leaned back against the metal framework, watching him approach.

My curiosity piqued when he began to climb the structure on the other side. He hadn't looked up at me once so I really didn't think he hadn't seen me. What the hell was he doing here anyhow? He climbed with ease, almost as much ease as myself, and I found myself grinning. Interesting. As I waited for him I played with the paper absently in my hands, folding the corners in, creasing it in the middle, giving it wings.

After a long ten minutes of him weaving in and out of sight, the kid emerged onto the ledge I was standing on. I could see him through the framework, and I raised an eyebrow at him. Once he finally noticed me he almost fell backwards off the other side.

"Oh, shit!" he spit, clutching his heart. "You scared the hell out of me!" He was wearing a backpack too, covered in swatches of duct tape. I don't think I'd never seen him at Casper before, though. "What are you doing here!"

"What are you doing here?" I countered.

He folded his arms, refusing to step around the ledge and come any closer to me. "I always come here. You know," he gestured vaguely out across at the horizon. "You can.. see everything better."

"It's off limits," I countered, feeling the direction of the breeze with one raised hand. I watched it sift through the branches, and waited until it was blowing away to the south. I tossed my airplane to the breeze and watched it soar until it disappeared into the branches of a tall oak.

"Didn't stop you," he sneered.

I shrugged, tearing out another piece of paper and creasing the corners. Things with wings fascinated me, the way they had to obey the winds, manipulate them, use them. The way it came so naturally to them. Me, I was as unnatural as it got.

I glanced back at the kid, who was watching me with extreme caution. "You.. you weren't going to.." he trailed off, biting his lip and looking away with a fierce blush. "You're not gonna jump are you?" he let out all in one breath.

I was so caught off guard that I actually laughed. "I'm sorry," I breathed when he looked stricken. "I know it's not funny, I'm sorry. No, no I'm not going to jump."

The wind was right again, blowing in a draft upward to the southeast, so I cast my airplane that way and grinned as the draft caught it beneath the wings and carried it far away until the white speck was too small to see.

"You're pretty good at that," the kid said softly. He was leaning against the framework now, still on the other side. Normally other kids didn't stay this close to me when they had a choice, and I was a bit thrown by it to be honest.

"You can uh.. you should sit down," I prompted. "You're making me nervous, standing there like that. You know how high up we are?"

The kid made a noncommittal grunting noise and stepped around the corner, settling as far as possible from me on the ledge, his legs swinging out over the abyss. I had to force down a smile, wondering when the last time I had a pleasant conversation with another student was.

I could feel his eyes on me as I let loose one, two more airplanes, one after the other, catching another southward gust of wind. Sam would kill me for littering. But the way I looked at it, the paper came from here in the first place so I was just.. returning it.

"So.. you're Danny Fenton, right?"

The paper I was folding crinkled in my hands unexpectedly, tearing down the middle. I blinked at him. "Uh.. yeah? I'm sorry, I don't think I know you. You go to Casper?"

"Yeah. I kind of blend into the background though, so I'm not surprised you don't know me." He said it with the fake grin I wore nearly every day. The one that said 'I'm laughing, but I don't really think it's funny.' "Name's Jacob."

"Well to be honest, I kind of blend into the background too, so I'm kind of surprised you know me."

To my everlasting surprise, Jacob scoffed and said, "Well everyone knows you." Then he flushed again and quickly looked away, as if he'd said something extremely rude.

"You can't be serious." I was tempted to rub my finger in my ear, thinking maybe they were filled with a pound of wax.

"Well you know.. you kind of have a reputation."

"Ah." I thought I saw where this was going. Good to know that not only did people instinctually avoid me, they avoided me because of my reputation. I wasn't stupid, after all. I knew when I came to class with bruises the size of baseballs and gashes barely concealed under gauze that people would talk. I'd heard rumors about myself, heard things that got back to Sam and Tucker, but I'd never considered something like this. Everyone knows you. Great, I had enough to deal with in regards to my fame as Phantom. The last thing I needed was fame as Fenton, for being the town delinquent.

"Are the things they say true?" he asked, letting his backpack fall behind him and leaning back against it.

I smiled ruefully. "I don't know what the say, but I highly doubt it's anything close to the truth."

"Eh, I knew it." He watched unabashedly as I let another paper airplane fly. I'd exhausted all the different types I knew how to fold and I was back to the initial plain model. "Man, what the hell happened to your face?"

"Hmn?" I stared at him in confusion.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Just there, across your eye." He slid his finger up his right cheek, over his eyebrow.

"Ohhh." I felt the cut on my face, the early morning present from Skulker. I'd already forgotten about it. "That's nothing. One of the paper airplanes came back for revenge, paper cut me good."

"You're full of shit," he said pointedly, but he looked amused. "So I guess they were right about that. You're an expert liar."

To be honest, that stung a little bit. But I didn't let it show. "Yeah well, sometimes you have to lie."

"Can't argue that," he replied. "You mind if I try?" he added, pointing at my notebook. I shrugged, and handed him a piece of paper.

I watched him fold the paper with rapt attention, mimicking the last model I folded, the simplest one. "Mind if I ask you something?"

He peered at me quickly before shaking his head.

"You weren't.. trying to jump either.. were you?" My question caught him as he was aiming his airplane, and he jumped so violently that the plane veered away and spiraled listlessly to the ground. My eyes widened, and I knew I'd caught him. But it was like catching a shark in a fish net. What the fuck were you supposed to do with it?

"No.. no I wasn't," he said quickly, his hand clenching the fabric of his jeans.

"Come off it," I said, a bit too harshly. "Life sucks but you don't kill yourself!" Maybe it was still selfish of me, but I rather thought I had a harder life than anyone I knew and even I didn't off myself, so what gave anyone else the right?

"You've got it wrong, I'm not trying to kill myself," he said, his face screwed up like he was extremely uncomfortable. "At least, not anymore. I uh, I was thinking of jumping the first time I came up here but I just never got up the courage. I'm too chicken shit," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. "I kept coming back, thinking maybe I'd do it, but eventually I was just coming back for the view."

It was hard not to glare. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I growled, tossing my notebook aside. I knew I should be nicer but I hated when people got suicidal. Didn't they realize what a precious thing life was? None of them had ever seen for themselves what it was like for those left behind. None of them had ever had life taken from them before.

Jacob looked at me like I had tentacles sprouting from my head. "Maybe I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to be nice to suicidal people?" He seemed halfway between offended and amused.

I tried to soften my scowl. "I just think people who commit suicide are selfish," I stated simply, willing myself to not go into it any further. This is why I couldn't talk to people, couldn't have friends. Everything I had to say was tainted by my other life. I couldn't even have a conversation without it leaking in.

"Selfish," Jacob repeated numbly. "You think they're selfish."

"Yes," I snapped.

"It's selfish to want to end it because you can't take it anymore, because everything's just too much, because I'm a freak with no friends? It's my life. I should decide what do with it, or whether I –"

"That's where you're wrong," I interrupted, staring him straight in the eyes. "It's not your life. It doesn't belong to you, it belongs to everyone you know and everyone you love. It isn't your place to take that away from them."

"What the fuck do you know?" he spat. Jacob rose to his feet hastily, crossing his arms in a huff. "I don't even know you! I don't have to listen to you."

I shrugged and turned back toward the city. It looked so still from up here, sounded so quiet. In reality it was anything but. "You already told me you weren't suicidal anymore, so you don't really have to listen to me. It sounds like you already figured it out for yourself."

There was a very long moment of heavy silence, before Jacob said, "You're a weird guy, you know that Danny?"

I gave him a lopsided grin. "So they say."

He didn't sit down by me again, but instead shuffled back and forth on his feet, rubbing his arms for warmth against the bitter breeze. I'd almost forgotten it was freezing outside. Jacob was wearing a sweatshirt, and I was wearing a cotton t-shirt.

"But you're actually pretty nice. How come you don't have any friends?"

"Let's just say that I'm a freak too."

"So they say," he replied, and my grin turned sour.

"They say a lot of things, don't they?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But you know, maybe they wouldn't spread shit about you if you just talked to people. You know, squashed the rumors yourself? You don't freakin' talk to anyone but that goth girl and what's his name. Tucker."

I sighed. I'd explained this to Jazz half a million times, since she'd made it her personal vendetta to squash the nasty rumors about me before she'd graduated. "Sometimes it's better to let people hear a bunch of lies, so that way if they hear the truth they won't recognize it."

Jacob blinked at me, and then he busted a gut. "You just get weirder and weirder," he breathed between gasps of laughter. "I mean what are you, like a Russian spy or something? Why do you have to be so freakin' mysterious?" He slapped his leg in mirth, clutching at his stomach.

"I don't try to be mysterious," I grumbled, resting my head on one hand. "It just kinda happens without my permission."

"You are so –"

I never found out what I "so" was, because at that moment Jacob's eyes flew wide open as he stepped backwards and slipped on the strap of his backpack. "Shit!" I heard him curse as his legs shot out from under him and he slid off the too-shallow ledge, grabbing for it desperately with his hands. But he didn't grab quick enough or hard enough, and the metal let his hands slip by.

I'd already jumped after him before I even registered what was happening. Predator's reflexes. Hero's reflexes.

It was a testament to the stupidity of the moment that Jacob looked more confused about the fact that I'd jumped too than scared about the fact that he was going to die. His face contorted into complete bafflement as he looked up at me, his arms and legs trailing above him.

To have complete control of flight I'd have needed to transform fully into ghost mode, but I didn't need to transform to float. So I dove after him full throttle, knowing all I needed to do was catch up to him. And I did. Wind whipped through my hair and his hair, but I caught a hold of his upper arms a mere second after he'd fallen from the ledge. He stared at me like I'd gone insane, but I beamed at him, hoping to ease his terror. Belatedly, it probably just made me look crazier.

Only after I grabbed him did he finally start to scream, like he'd only just begun to realize the implications of what was happening to him. Or what would be happening to him, if I hadn't been here.

He was still screaming as we neared the brown forest floor, covered in a thick coat of dead pine needles. It was probably good he was so scared, because he likely didn't notice the slight tingling sensation I knew I'd be giving him as I tapped into my powers, slowing our descent. He was still screaming, his eyes screwed tightly shut, as the wind died around us. He was still screaming as my feet touched gently on the ground, and I set him lightly beside me, hesitating to let go because I was sure he'd fall over.

All in all the fall had taken less than five seconds.

It took him a few moments to believe that he was still alive. He was shaking, his eyes darting from me to the structure back to me again, and suddenly he ducked out from under my arms.

"What the fuck, Danny?"

I stepped back, giving him space. Trying to look as small as possible.

"What the actual fuck? What just happened!"

"That's.. a really good question," I said slowly, rubbing the back of my neck, fighting the crushing anxiety that was starting to overcome me now that the adrenaline was dissipating and the danger was gone. "And I really wish I could answer it but the thing is… " I grimaced at him apologetically, "I can't."

"What are you like a superhero or something? How in god's name are we alive?" He was gesturing wildly, running his hands through his hair. I worried for a moment that he was about to throw up, or start screaming again.

"Heh, no I'm not a superhero. Definitely not a superhero," I reiterated. I wasn't lying. I was a lot of things, and a superhero was not one of them. "Let's just say I'm really aerodynamic." I offered him another sly grin but he wasn't having it.

"You really are a freak, Danny Fenton."

My grin wiped away like rain from a windshield, like I'd been slapped.

"No, no," he said quickly, waving his hands wildly. "Like freaky in a good way. I don't know what the hell just happened, but it was cool."

"Oh," I replied, "well, okay. You uh.. you wait here. I'll get our backpacks from up there."

I could feel his eyes on my back as I scaled the tower for the second time that day, hoping I didn't slip. Using my powers in front of this kid twice would be really pushing my luck.

The silence was palpable as we walked along the creek back to town together. I knew he was staring at me but I couldn't bring myself to talk to him. I knew everything I said would be a lie, and he knew it too. So what was the point?

As we emerged out into the district of dilapidated buildings, I turned to him. "Look.. Jacob. You can't tell anyone about what happened."

To my surprise, he shrugged it off. "Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Secret identity and all. I read comic books too you know."

I tried to laugh, like he was completely off the mark. "I'm not a freakin' superhero," I said, running my hand through my hair nervously. "I mean come on, there are no superheroes in this city. Don't you think you would have noticed?"

Jacob just shrugged. "Turns out there are a lot of things people in this town don't notice. Like the fact that a superhero is going to my high school!"

"I'm not a –! You know what, forget it. Just please, please keep this to yourself."

Jacob snapped to attention and gave me a mock salute. "Will do, Captain Amity, or y'know whatever your superhero name is."

I rolled my eyes, and I was still rolling them as we were walking down the street together and I had to deflect further inquiries about my 'hero' status. I was still rolling them as we parted ways.

But two days later when the sea of students parted in the hallway, keeping a wide bubble of space around me, I saw Jacob there. He didn't steer clear of me the way everyone else did, and the smallest of smiles crept onto my face as he waved at me. I waved back.

"Wait, did you actually make a friend while I was absent?" Tucker said sarcastically. He knew very well why I chose not to make new friends.

"You know, I think actually I did?"

In sixth period that day I pulled my desk over to Mikey's when Wright gave us time to work on our homework.

I may be strange, but I didn't have to be a stranger.