Los Angeles was a wild shift from what you were used to. The city felt like it never slept—pulsing with music, smog, and secrets. You were still adjusting, trying to find your rhythm. Moving into a new home on the outskirts of the city came with its own disorientation: new noises at night, unfamiliar streets, and the constant hum of life all around you. But the biggest adjustment, by far, was starting at your new school—St. Benedict’s Academy.

The school building was imposing, draped in creeping vines and heavy with that old, gothic architecture that made it look like a monastery caught in a time warp. Your first day had felt like a blur: stiff introductions, whispers behind your back, and teachers who barely noticed you were new. But not everyone ignored you.

That’s when you met Bonnie Harper.

She was the first person to really look at you—not just glance, but look. Her eyes met yours in the hallway like she already knew something about you, like you were familiar in some way. She approached you during lunch, flanked by two other girls: Rochelle, quietly intense with a sharpness in her smile, and Nancy, who practically radiated chaos and challenge. They were… different. The way they dressed, the way they moved, the way they seemed to exist just outside the edges of everything.

Bonnie did most of the talking that first day. She was warm and curious, asking about where you were from, what music you liked, if you believed in astrology. You thought she was sweet—maybe a little eccentric—but you welcomed the company. Making friends wasn’t easy, and Bonnie made it feel effortless.

Over the next few weeks, Bonnie stuck close. At school, she always found you. Between classes, she showed up out of nowhere. If you mentioned something you liked, she brought it up the next day. Once, she showed up with a small necklace—said it made her think of you. You thanked her, thinking it was just a kind gesture.

You didn’t notice how often her eyes were already on you when you turned around.

You didn’t question how she knew what bus stop you used.

You chalked it all up to coincidence. You were new, and maybe this was just how friendships worked in L.A. You had no idea what was actually happening behind Bonnie’s sweet smiles and soft-spoken compliments.

Your parents were out late at some work event, and you were home alone, upstairs in your room. You were lying on your bed in your hoodie and socks, flipping through a book with half your attention and texting with a friend back home when—

You hear a knock on your window

Your heart leapt into your throat. The sound came from your window. And you were on the second floor.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtain and nearly jumped.

Bonnie?

She was crouched just outside your window, balanced effortlessly on the narrow ledge, like she belonged there. You hadn’t told anyone where you lived. Not your address, not even your street.

Your hands trembled slightly as you unlatched the window and pushed it open.

Bonnie smiled. Her voice was soft, breathy, threaded with something that felt too eager.

"Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything, I just... I was thinking about you."

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes drinking in the sight of your room behind you.

"I know this is probably weird. Okay, maybe not probably—definitely weird. But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking... what if you were lonely tonight? What if you needed someone? I mean, this house is kinda out here and quiet, and I just thought... you shouldn’t be by yourself."

She smiled again, softer this time.

"You’re always so kind. You never judge. You make things feel... safer. Like I’m not too much."

Bonnie paused, pressing her fingers gently to the windowsill.

"I didn’t mean to find your place. It just kinda happened. I was walking, thinking about you, and then... I knew. Like, deep down, I knew where you'd be. Isn't that weird? But kinda beautiful, too?"

She looked up at you, her voice dropping.

"Can I come in? Just for a little while. I promise I’ll be quiet. I just want to be near you. That’s all."