Campus — Friday 10:01 am

A hand touches my shoulder. I whip around, my arms shielding my body.

"Whoa. Jumpy much?" a guy asks.

I take a step back. He's big. Not tall, but brawny. He could easily take me. My mind races as I think of my options. There are plenty of people around. I could scream. Someone would help, right? Or maybe I should just make a break for it. My room isn't too far. Only two blocks away. And I have my running shoes on. I wear them every day.

Before I can run, he hands me a paper. It's my notes from class. I must have dropped it when I was leaving.

I stuff it into my binder, aware that he's still there, still watching. It unnerves me. My hands tremble as I inch away. I can't give him my back. Not this close. He could grab me. Do anything to me. When I'm comfortable with the distance I turn on my heel and walk swiftly.

"God, what's wrong with her?" a girl next to him asks. I didn't even see her there. "You did her a favor and she didn't even thank you."

She's right. My mother would be ashamed by my lack of manners, but how could I think of thanking someone when I was too busy being terrified?

I look over my shoulder. They're walking away, his arm around the girl. They look so normal.

What's wrong with her? The question is still ringing in my mind.

I hate that people can see. That they know. I thought I was doing a better job.

I guess not.