As if the disaster that Clover had caused wasn't enough to make me uneasy, I found a strange yellow sticky note on the door of my locker the following day. It had a message written on it.

Sweet morning to you, Autumn.

There was no sender's name anywhere on the note. I looked at my surroundings to see if anyone was giving me a signal regarding it. None. People were hurrying to get to their classes before the warning bell. I stared back at the message and tried to identify the handwriting, but no one came to mind.

The note remained between the pages of my textbook the whole morning. It bugged me to no end. Who would send me that and why would they send me that? Was it some kind of prank? I didn't realize I'd been staring at it blankly until Sunny poked me in the shoulder. That was when I noticed only the two of us were left in the classroom.

"You zoned out," she said. "Not that it's a total surprise, but seriously, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Then why have you been closing and opening that book every minute?" She tried to peek inside my book, and I hurriedly covered it with my arms. "What do you have there?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you hiding it?"

"Forget it, Sunny. Your friends are waiting for you in the cafeteria."

"They can go on without me. I'll keep nagging you until I see what you're hiding, Autumn."

I sighed resignedly. "Fine."

Beaming in victory, she grabbed the book and flipped through it. The note fell from the pages. She bent down and picked it up, skimming through the written words.

"Huh. A little greeting on a sticky note."

"I told you it's nothing. Now, please give it back."

She slammed her hands on my desk, making my heart jump. "Did you find this on your locker?"

"H-how did you—?"

"Do you know who the sender is?"

"No. It's already there when I got here." With her stance—crossed arms, straight back—I felt I was in an interrogation room with a cop.

"How could you say this was nothing? Hello, this is your secret admirer trying to get your attention!"

I crinkled my nose as I tried to digest such an absurd idea. Me? Having a secret admirer? Who would even like me?

"Secret admirer? No way! That's—that's probably a mistake. The sender must have gotten confused with the lockers."

"Um, have you seen the name Autumn written on it?" Sunny gave the note back, and I shoved it in my bag without glancing at it. "As far as I know, there's only one person in school who has that name. And she's in front of me right now."

"How can you tell? There are, like, hundreds of kids out there."

"Whatever. The point is—the note is definitely for you."

I shook my head and put on my backpack. "But who would write it and why?"

Sunny followed as I marched out of the room. "Let's find out! We'll be like Nancy Drew, but instead of solving crimes, we will search for clues of true love."

"Pass."

"Why? Don't you want to meet your secret admirer? Don't you want to see how hot he is?" She elbowed me playfully and laughed.

"No. It's better to leave it as a mystery." I couldn't even imagine the amount of awkwardness that would ensue if my 'secret admirer' and I ever met face to face.

Sunny looked as if she didn't hear me. Her mind was probably flying to some fairy tale world. "Hmm, maybe he's just around here, you know?" She observed the students passing by. "You may even know him."

A blush crept onto my cheeks, and I scowled to fight it off. "Look, there's no secret admirer whatsoever, Sunny. That note is a joke, okay? A big joke."

Her smile stretched from ear to ear, as though she knew something more than I did. "What if it's not, though? What if someone has a legitimate crush on you?"

"Sounds like a superstitious belief to me."

"Autumn, don't be so cynical."

"I'm not being cynical. I'm being real. Do you know when the last time was that someone had a crush on me?"

"When?"

"Never."

"Well, I guess you just have to open your eyes and your heart," she said, "because maybe... he's just somewhere out there waiting for you to notice him."

──────

The sticky notes continued throughout the day and even the day after. It was as if the mysterious sender simply slapped one note on my locker door whenever he walked by. Same chicken-scratch handwriting in blue ink. Different messages. Most of them were friendly reminders. Some of them were short poems.

I was the only one that found them creepy. Sunny and Finn thought otherwise. Both believed that the messages were from a secret admirer, and Finn even said that perhaps the anonymous sender was too shy to say his feelings in person. Again, the idea of someone liking me romantically was ridiculous, so I dismissed their theories.

However, as the notes turned up repeatedly on my locker door, I eventually found them heartwarming and amusing, even though they were quite corny. There was even one message that made my heart race—in a confusing way.

I heard you love to read poems

So here's one from me to you

Even though my words seldom rhyme

I hope this will make you smile

Because I think it's a waste

Not to smile with looks like yours

Nothing will make the world go bright

Nothing will make me feel all right

After reading the fifth and sixth lines twice, I didn't know what expression to make. I headed to the bathroom and let out a big sigh. Then, I stared at myself in the mirror. Slowly and hesitantly, I turned my head to the right and stretched up my lips. Next, I grinned, showing my full set of teeth. I turned my head to the left, still smiling, but with my eyes narrowing this time. I tried different angles and poses to see how I looked when I smiled, but a few seconds later, I gagged.

Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom to witness my mortifying act.

The poem was cute, sure, but whoever the sender was should probably see an eye doctor. My smile looked horrifying.

Moreover, how did he know I loved reading poems? I didn't tell anyone about it. What if Sunny was right? What if I knew him? Despite my wish to leave it as a mystery, I couldn't help wondering about the sender's name.

I left the area because the pungent smell of air freshener was suffocating me, but just as I did, the world came to a halt.

Michael Summer was heading my way.

I could assume three reasons why I kept crossing paths with him. First, the hallways were cursed. Second, every happening in this universe was inevitable. Third, the force was not with me at all.

I thought of going back into the bathroom and locking myself inside, but it would raise suspicions. Besides, he was coming closer. I had to stay put, relax, and let whatever events run their course.

Without a word, he lifted a brown paper bag I only now noticed. I took a step away, confused.

"A peace offering," he said.

I thought for one moment that the world had lost its balance in the Solar System and went rolling into deep space and shooting inside a wormhole and passing through to an alternate universe. It didn't happen. So remind me again why Michael Summer was being generous toward me?

"For what?" I asked.

"Ambushing you."

"You don't have—"

"Just accept it." He was starting to get sweaty and annoyed and embarrassed, so to save us from the awkward situation, I grabbed the bag from his hand and checked what was inside. Macaroons. I could taste the sweetness inside my mouth.

"This is too sweet," I said

A playful grin showed on his face. "You think so?"

My heart went bonkers when I realized he took it the wrong way. "I mean this. The pastry. Too sweet for me."

"Oh. You're not a fan of sweets?"

"No... Spicy food is my thing, actually." Seeing the disappointment clouding his features, I quickly said, "But I appreciate this! Thank you. Don't worry. I wasn't mad about what happened."

"Good." Michael nodded in relief. He looked at his beat-up shoes as he made a tentative question. "I asked you this last time but you didn't answer. Now, I'm asking you again..." He lifted his dark eyes to me. "Where did you get my number?"

My pulse skipped a beat. I recalled Clover saying that Rose didn't want anyone to know that she had given away his number. I understood why this seemed like a big deal to him. I liked to keep my personal information to myself, and I would be unsettled, too, if someone suddenly gave away my number without giving me a heads-up.

However, I couldn't tell him it had come from Rose because he might get mad at her, and I didn't want that to happen.

"Uh..." I began. My thoughts were racing. "I found it in the yellow pages?"

Michael huffed out an air of amusement. "Nice joke. But seriously, where? Or from whom?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I shouldn't even be there answering his questions. I couldn't believe that having a simple chat with him in the music store would get me enmeshed in this web of mess. Clover could get mad at me for revealing her screw-up for all I cared.

"Okay, listen." A heavy sigh escaped me. I tightened my grip on the paper bag as I stammered, "You... you should ask..."

"Hey," a familiar voice spoke, and he and I turned to see Clover walking toward us, her hands hidden in the pockets of her jacket. The crinkle between her eyebrows and the way she nibbled her lower lip indicated that she knew what I was about to do.

"I need to talk to you," she said. Although there was still a hint of bashfulness in her expression, her eyes were full of resolve as she stared squarely at him.

I waited for her to continue speaking, but she only passed me an I-got-this look. I gave her a good-luck nod and Michael an apologetic smile before I left them alone.

Beneath the sycamore tree, I ate the macaroons he'd given me. They were indeed too sweet.

──────

Clover was a wreck.

According to her, Michael was Furious, with a capital F. She thought her puppy eyes would make him brush it off like it was no big deal, but their conversation didn't go as planned. He was silent, but his facial expression made him look like a bomb that was about to detonate any second. Suffice it to say, the whole experience was a nightmare for her. She had lost several points with him, and she would have to make serious efforts to make him trust her again.

Now, she was spending the night sobbing and channeling her frustration into stress eating.

"Really, that's what you're wearing?" she said from the top bunk of our bed. Her voice might be weak and shaky from all the crying, but her cheeky tone didn't dwindle.

"Yeah. Why?" I asked.

She began pointing at me from head to toe. "Boring gray shirt. Old Navy jacket. Grandma skirt. Leggings. And boots." She crinkled her nose. "Are you seriously going to a high school party bundled up like that?"

"I get cold easily, so..."

She snorted humorlessly. "You can borrow some of my clothes. I have black skinny jeans and a sweetheart top that will look nice on you."

"But I'm comfortable in these. Besides, it's just a little birthday party. Probably nothing fancy."

"Fine. Just don't put your hair in braids. Trust me; you don't wanna look like a Sunday school teacher in front of those people."

I let my hair down and ran my fingers through my curls. It had been months since I had my last haircut, and my hair had gotten so long it reached my waist. The shade turned orange under the fluorescent light. Marmalade.

"You sure you don't want to come?" I asked. "Finn invited you."

"I don't want to ruin the party by turning it into a funeral. I mean, look at my face right now. People will call me fugly, and it'll make me feel ten times worse. Just send my greetings to him." Fugly—a term she used to describe something or someone far beyond ugly without explicitly using profanity. A term that never failed to amuse me.

"You are not fugly, Clover."

"Whatever. Doesn't matter whether I'm fugly or not. He still hates me."

I offered her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure Michael will forgive you. Not now, but someday."

"Someday isn't included in the calendar."

I sighed. She was being a complete pessimist again. "Listen, you've acknowledged your mistake and given an apology. You've done your part. It's enough. Don't let thing whole thing pull you down."

Her bored expression didn't change, as though my words had not affected her at all. "Amen, sister. Thanks for the sermon."

I shook my head at her scoffing reply and wore my cotton sling bag across my body. Then, before I forgot about it, I grabbed the paper gift bag from the table.

"You seem different now," Clover remarked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're interacting with people a lot more." She dug her hand into her bag of chips and raised a handful as if she was making a toast. "You're growing up, sister. Congrats."

"Clover, please do me a favor and stop eating in response to your misery. Have mercy on the person who's occupying the bottom bunk," I said and pulled the door open.

"Oh, and one more thing."

"What?"

"Why the hell is he calling you Marmalade?"

A faint smile formed on my face as a memory came to mind. "He's just a weird guy, I guess. I'm going now."

"'Kay. Don't take drinks from anyone you don't know!"

I shut the door behind my back and then laughed under my breath. Yes, there had been a change in me. A nice little change that dared me to rethink my daily life. I put on my beanie and brushed my bangs to the side before saying goodbye to my mother in her room.

"Don't come home late and be careful," she reminded sternly.

It was a miracle how easily she had allowed me to go to a party, but maybe it was because of Finn's background. Her eyes had gleamed with delight when she had discovered that he was the son of the two most powerful lawyers in town. She certainly wouldn't want to pass up on the opportunity to have her introverted daughter socialize with wealthy kids like him.

As I pulled my (now fixed) bicycle from the garage, I was nervous. What if Finn's friends were all rich and sophisticated and I would have trouble relating to them? What if I said something weird, and they would mock me? I looked at my outfit, and the butterflies in my stomach grew. I should have listened to Clover and worn something stylish. But I was running late to change my entire wardrobe.

I decided that if I got too uncomfortable at the party, I would tell them that my mom was calling me to come home for an emergency. Yes, classic excuse.

I made a calming sigh and got on my bicycle. Then, I paddled through the peaceful street, steeling myself for whatever might happen in the night.