Two years ago, in freshman year, Noah Hadley had an incident.
Luna Khan is just a regular sixteen-year-old girl, trying to make it through high school like everyone else. Now in her senior year, she's all but forgotten Noah exists - save the waywar...
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"Next stop, Darrington Heights..."
"Hey! Luna!" Dahlia's voice woke me from my thoughts. Train rides tended to do that - pull me into internal musings that I couldn't shake off easily. "Look!"
We had been on the train for at least forty minutes, and at last, there was Noah leaning against one of the rails at the farthest exit from us. He shuffled his bag more securely onto his shoulder. I noticed that he had pulled his hood up, and it shielded his face.
Even though there was still sun, the weather was shifting quickly. Last week, the sun was out in full force, but recently, there was frost out on the lawns every morning. I shivered, wishing I had brought my hat with me.
The cold weather, the shorter days, the hammering in my chest - all signs foreshadowed this plan going awry. And honestly, what if Noah was the same in his own home as he was in class? Agitatedly swooping hands through his hair, scribbling in his notebook, chewing his pen and zoning out, staring out the window...
I frowned at myself. I really was starting to notice a lot of his habits. But I convinced myself that had more to do with having nothing else to do during physics class but examine him. As the rest of the students chattered away, or built robots or whatever, the two of us mostly ended up sitting stonily in our seats. I spent most of that day's class braiding my hair, and glaring at the robotics kit's instructions. And, evidently, watching Noah.
Which I should have been doing just then - where did he go?
"Over here," Dahlia's lanky body strode toward the "way out" signs where I could see Noah's faint outline on the steps. My shoes clicked on the concrete as I rushed to catch up.
I gulped. Noah could literally turn around at any second and spot us. What were we doing-
"Oh, excuse me," I mumbled as I almost knocked into a man strumming a guitar just near the exit. Not that I hadn't seen buskers around, but Darrington had a decidedly different feel from Montgomery, where I lived. I guiltily looked down at my Carvela lace-up boots as they continued rushing up the stairs.
Note to self: if you ever stalk Noah Hadley again, bring change. I put what I had in the guitar case, which unfortunately wasn't much.
Outside the station felt like an entirely new world. Because the days were getting shorter, there was just the slightest edge of darkness to everything. I shivered again, even though the sun was on my neck.
The streets were also busier, lined with dozens of restaurants and several of them with battered signs, or dusty, worn down storefronts. I hugged my arms around myself, realising how sheltered I was to get to walk and bike to school. All I passed on my commutes were manicured bushes, exaggerated gardens and Mrs. Venners, my very elderly neighbor, drinking tea in her sunroom.
