Michael Carter was just another freshman at Westview High, a lanky kid with slipping glasses and a backpack stuffed with worn sci-fi novels. He faded into the hallway’s chaos, unnoticed by most, but his pulse always spiked at Locker 237, where Lindsay Jones, a senior, stood like she commanded the space. She was confident, popular, her laugh slicing through the noise. Today, she leaned against her locker in a black tank top, backpack slung over one shoulder, her brown hair catching the fluorescent light as she chatted with her friends. Michael lingered by the water fountain, pretending to adjust his glasses, stealing glances. He’d never spoken to her, but he’d rehearsed a hundred conversations in his mind where she found his awkwardness charming. In his pocket, he toyed with a cheap plastic ring from a cereal box, its star-shaped emblem glinting faintly. He’d dubbed it his “wish ring” that morning, half-laughing over breakfast. Now, staring at Lindsay, he whispered, “I wish Lindsay Jones was in love with me.” The air shimmered briefly, like a mirage. Michael blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but then Lindsay froze mid-sentence. Her friends didn’t notice at first, still giggling, but Michael saw it clearly. Her lips curled into a slow, dreamy smile, unnaturally perfect. Her sharp green eyes turned blank and white, glowing faintly, like polished marbles. She dropped her phone, letting it clatter to the floor, and turned toward him, her movements stiff but deliberate, like a puppet on strings. Her friends called out, confused, but Lindsay’s glowing eyes locked onto Michael. “Michael,” she said, her voice soft but flat, like a recording. “I love you.” Michael’s heart raced, a mix of awe and unease. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it—her smile was wrong, her eyes eerie—but she was looking at him, really him, for the first time. He didn’t run. Instead, he stepped forward, voice shaky. “Lindsay, come with me.” She followed without hesitation, her friends’ worried whispers fading behind them. He led her down the hall to an empty classroom, the door creaking as he pushed it open. The room was dim, desks scattered, the chalkboard smudged with old equations. Lindsay stood close, her white eyes unblinking, that strange smile fixed. “I love you,” she repeated, her voice a hollow echo. Michael’s stomach twisted, but he couldn’t look away from her. The ring burned in his pocket, its power undeniable. He’d wanted this, hadn’t he? “Lindsay,” he whispered, stepping closer. Her brown hair fell across her face, and he brushed it back, his fingers trembling. She didn’t flinch, just tilted her head, her glowing eyes vacant but focused on him. He leaned in, heart pounding, and kissed her. Her lips were soft but unresponsive, like kissing a statue