That morning, Aimee woke up with a broad smile on her face; Stefan was the only thing on her mind. She felt like nothing could go wrong, and then she glanced over at the time. It would be right about then when Molly called out until Aimee appeared downstairs. 08:00.

"Three, two -" counted Aimee.

"Aimee!" Molly called, from the kitchen, as usual.

"Wow, she's early," chuckled Aimee.

She got up and clothed herself in what she had worn the previous day. While getting dressed, she realised that she left her bag in Stefan's car! With her T-shirt halfway down her arms, she slapped her forehead. She did not even have Stefan's cellphone number. She could only pray that he brought it to school, without meddling through it. Aimee let out a sigh, pulled her T-shirt on properly and headed downstairs.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Good morning," replied Molly. "Sunday pancakes, yum."

Have you tasted your pancakes, Aimee thought to herself, sticking out her tongue in disgust behind Molly's back.

As Molly turned around, holding Aimee's plate of pancakes, Aimee was sure to sit up straight with an innocent smile on her face - and a transparent halo. Molly set the plate down and walked away, leaving Aimee to "enjoy" her breakfast.

Aimee ate up and went back to her bedroom. She dropped on her bed, arms spread out across the sheets. She thought about what she would do that day.

"Sleep, eat, and watch television," she sighed happily.

Just then, she heard Molly calling once again from downstairs. She yelled "visitor" from the front door. Aimee stood up and wondered who would be there on a Sunday morning. It could not have been Emma; Molly would not address her as just a visitor and she was one of the few of Aimee's friends that she actually liked.

Aimee walked out her door and down the stairs. Molly was waiting at the foot of the flight.

"It's that boy from last night," she said.

"Stefan?" Aimee asked excitedly.

She rushed past Molly and to the front door. Aimee ogled through the peephole, it was Stefan! Before answering the door, she primped herself at the wall mirror in the foyer. She made a final breath-check and opened the door.

"Hey, Stefan," she leaned against the doorway, trying to keep her cool.

"Aimee, hey," greeted Stefan. "I brought your... things."

"Oh, thanks," she received her bag. "Is that all?" she sighed lightly.

"Yeah, I need to be somewhere," he said.

Aimee looked disappointed, but tried not to make it too obvious. Stefan tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. He said goodbye and turned back to his motorbike in the driveway. Aimee watched him leave and waved until he waved back at her. Molly stalked behind her.

"Well?" she questioned.

"Ah! Don't do that!" yelled Aimee. "And "well" what?"

She faced Molly, waiting for an answer. Molly closed the front door behind Aimee and looked into her eyes.

"Well, why was he here?" she replied.

"He returned my kit," Aimee lifted her carry bag. "I forgot it in his car last night."

Molly shot Aimee an alarmed look.

"Don't start," remarked Aimee.

Molly shrugged and walked upstairs to her and Clifford's bedroom. Aimee exhaled and looked at her bag. A smile crossed her face as she swung the bag over her shoulder and returned to her room. She let her bag down beside her and removed her diary from beneath the bed. She paged to her last entry, read through it and started writing:

Aimee put her diary on her bed and smiled, biting her lip. She surveyed through her bag to see if Stefan snooped around. To her relief, everything was as she had left it. But just as she was about to zip her bag closed, she noticed an envelope. Aimee took the envelope out and tore it open. There was a letter from Stefan, which read:

Stefan had written his cellphone number on the back of the note. Aimee snatched her phone from the bedside table. With her cellphone in one hand and the note in the other, she vivaciously added him to her contact list. She was smiling like the Cheshire Cat. After saving his number, Aimee put the note in her diary and the diary back under her bed. She threw her soccer kit into her laundry basket at her door. She walked across the passage, to the bathroom and played some of her favourite indie tunes off her cell.

Aimee had a long, cool shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She washed up and climbed into a pair of denim shorts and put on a basic blue shirt. She could not think of anything else to do. Aimee went downstairs and made popcorn in the kitchen. Just as the idea of sitting on the couch watching television all day popped into Aimee's head, she changed her mind. Once her butt touched the sofa, she decided to do something... active.

Aimee jumped up and walked to the front door, leaving her bowl of popcorn on the kitchen counter. She halted at the mirror to put her short hair into a ponytail, and then confidently skipped out the door. She sighted the daily newspaper on the front porch thinking to bring it in when she returned. Aimee trod across their evergreen lawn, passed the main gate and onto the sidewalk, inhaling the fresh air. She quickly tied her shoelaces and was on her feet, ready for a jog around the area. Aimee jogged for a full hour, every weekend. When was irrelevant, but this was her way of keeping in shape, so she made sure that she got it done.

Ten minutes into her jog, she came across a familiar-looking man sitting on a wooden bench. She noticed the wide-brimmed hood of his black jacket, but tried to ignore him and jog ahead. She paced slowly, glimpsing the man out the left corner of her eye. At a faster pace, Aimee shook him out of her mind and trod on. A shiver rushed down her spine. She could hear footsteps trailing behind her. She spun around attentively and found the man on the bench had disappeared. Her heart raced in her chest, but it slowly subsided. Maybe she was overreacting, thinking silly.

Aimee was ready to take a breath and continue her jog. She turned around again and he was one step away from her. He stared her in the eyes and addressed her by name. She was speechless and thought it might have been a good thing. Aimee had a strong feeling that he could not be trusted.

As the man reached into his pocket, Aimee could not help but panic. A gun or knife, she thought. Maybe he had a gag or intentions of kidnapping her too? After what happened to her yesterday, Aimee believed anything, but what came next surprised and relieved her.

The man slowly took his hand out of his pocket and clenched a small piece of paper. He had a wide, forced smile on his face. It was almost as though he had never smiled before and did not know how to. He handed the piece of paper over to Aimee. Her eyebrows rose as she took it from his grasp.

"Your phone number?" she queried, gawping at the digits on the crumpled sheet.

Aimee waited for a reply, but there was not one. When she looked up he was gone. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, trying to forget about the man and resume her jog. Aimee tossed the paper in the nearest garbage bin and continued her jog heading back home.

She had an uncertain feeling. As she walked on, she felt as though he was still following her, but there was nobody nearby. Aimee trod on something on her way. She stepped back to pick it up and was stunned to see the same paper she had thrown away!

"What is this? A stalker?" she queried. "I'm too young for you!" she exclaimed into the streets.

The voice of an old man echoed to her, confusingly supporting her statement. "You tell him!" he cheered.

Aimee was riled by the coded paper and the mysterious, persistent man who had given it to her. She shoved the paper into her jacket and ran the remaining distance.

When Aimee got home, she brought in the newspaper like she told herself she would. She smiled when she noticed her team on the front page.

ULYSSES S. GRANT'S LANCERS WIN LEAGUE!

Aimee walked into the house and left the newspaper next to her bowl, which by some miracle still contained popcorn. She climbed up the staircase and to her bedroom.

She took the crumpled piece of paper out of her jacket and left it on her desk, before throwing her attire into the laundry basket and taking a very quick shower. It was noon and her parents had been out. A note was left for her on the fridge. Molly wrote that she and Clifford had gone to see a movie - and so the survival of her popcorn was explained. Aimee smiled at the thought that the two of them left the house for a reason other than running errands.

She snatched her bowl of popcorn and crossed over to the lounge in her pyjamas. Aimee grabbed one of her favourite movies; X-Men: First Class and slipped it into the DVD player and lounged on the couch.

"If Molly and Clifford are watching a good movie, I will too," she smiled, munching a mouthful of popcorn.

Halfway through the movie, Aimee dozed off. When her parents got home, the credits were playing on the television screen and there was popcorn all over the wooden floors. Molly turned off the television and removed the DVD from the machine while Clifford carried Aimee up to her bed. He fetched an extra blanket, tucked her in and kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodnight Aimee," he quietly closed her door.

Aimee was sound asleep.