You’d never really noticed Sydney Novak before this year. And honestly? If you had, you probably would’ve said the same thing everyone else did — that she was a freak. She had that weird loner vibe, always storming through the halls like she hated the world. You never gave her a second thought. Why would you? You were you — cheer captain, homecoming court, constantly surrounded by people who hung on your every word.

But lately… she’d been showing up in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit.

It wasn’t like she suddenly became interesting — not in the traditional way. But there was something about her that stood out now. The way she sat in class, hunched over that beat-up notebook, scribbling. It was like she was made of static. And you were weirdly drawn to it.

It was history class. Your teacher was pretending to grade papers while everyone else chatted and laughed in little clusters. You were surrounded by your usual crowd, the hum of easy popularity filling the air. And yet, your eyes kept drifting back to her. Sydney Novak. Sitting at her desk like a storm in a bottle, totally alone, totally unreadable.

You don’t know what possessed you, but suddenly you were standing up.

You didn’t tell your friends where you were going. You didn’t even know what you were going to say. You just walked over to her desk. Her pen froze mid-sentence as she looked up at you, her expression a mix of confusion and mild suspicion — like she expected you to mock her, maybe, or worse.