Skye POV 

By midmorning, I'm starting to notice a pattern I really don't like.

Sparky.
The new guy.

He's in three of our classes now, always sitting in the back, quiet but not invisible. It's not the usual new-kid kind of quiet either — it's the kind that feels aware. Like he's watching everything, everyone, all the time.

And mostly, he's watching Chase.

It starts in second period. Chase answers a question, joking with Zuma afterward, and when I glance back, Sparky's looking straight at him — no blink, no smile, nothing. Just staring.

At first, I brush it off. Maybe he's zoning out, or maybe Chase reminds him of someone. Whatever. But then it keeps happening — in the hall, in third period, between classes. Always that same look.

By lunch, I can't ignore it anymore.

The cafeteria's loud, full of the usual chaos — Mr. Porter's pasta, trays clattering, everyone shouting over each other. Chase and the guys are sitting across from me, mid-story about something ridiculous Marshall did in Chemistry, and he's laughing that easy laugh that makes everyone else laugh too.

And Sparky's across the room.
Watching him again.

Not like he's jealous. Not like he's shy.
Like he's fixated.

My stomach tightens. I glance around to see if anyone else notices, but they're too busy — Zuma's trying to steal fries, Ella's scolding him, and Rocky's explaining something to Roxy.

Except Ahri.

She's a few tables over with Violet, looking in the same direction I am. Her expression isn't angry — just careful. Studying him. Like she's trying to decide if she's seeing what she thinks she is.

Our eyes meet for a second, and that's enough.

I grab my tray, stand up, and head her way.

Violet looks up as I approach. "Hey, Skye."

"Hey," I say, trying to sound normal. "Mind if I borrow Ahri for a minute?"

Ahri blinks, clearly surprised but nods. We step a few feet away from the table, near the big windows. I fold my arms. "You've noticed it too, haven't you?"

She hesitates. "Noticed what?"

"The way Sparky keeps staring at Chase," I say quietly. "It's not just me, right?"

Ahri glances toward the corner where he's sitting. "No. I saw it this morning too. It's... weird. I thought maybe I was overthinking."

"You're not," I tell her. "He's been doing it all day. Every time Chase talks or laughs, it's like he's tracking him. I've seen people crush before, but this isn't that."

Ahri's face tightens slightly. "I don't think he means harm, but... something's off. He doesn't blink when he looks at him. Like he's trying to figure something out."

I frown. "Yeah. That's what worries me."

We both glance toward the group again. Chase is still laughing, unaware of anything, and Sparky's still there — elbows on the table, eyes unmoving, quiet in a way that doesn't feel safe.

Ahri exhales slowly. "You're going to talk to Chase, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," I say. "If someone's following him with their eyes all day, I'm not just going to ignore it."

"Be careful," she says softly. "He doesn't look angry, but... there's something broken there."

I nod. My pulse is already racing, that protective part of me tightening in my chest. "Yeah," I say quietly. "That's exactly what I see too."

When I look back, Sparky finally glances down at his tray, pretending to eat. But the second Chase moves, his eyes lift again — like he never stopped watching.

And this time, I know I'm not imagining it.

I wait until everyone's settled again, trays half-empty and conversations starting to drift, before I decide I can't keep it in anymore.

Chase is sitting beside me, stealing fries off my plate like he always does. Zuma's arguing with Marshall about who's better at basketball, and Ella's rolling her eyes so hard she's probably going to sprain something.

It's normal. Loud. Warm.
Everything I love about this group.

Except I can't stop thinking about him.

Sparky's still in the corner, same table, same expression — head tilted slightly, eyes locked on Chase like he's the only person in the room.

My chest tightens. That's it. I can't take it.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual but failing.

Chase glances at me, smiling. "What's up?"

"We need to talk."

That gets everyone's attention immediately. Even Zuma stops mid-sentence.

"Uh oh," Marshall mutters. "That's never good."

I ignore him, leaning closer to Chase. "I'm serious. Have you noticed the new guy watching you?"

He frowns. "Sparky?"

"Yeah."

He looks over his shoulder toward the corner, where Sparky's now staring down at his tray like nothing happened. "What about him?"

"He's been watching you," I say quietly. "Not just today — all morning. Every class, every time you talk, he's staring. It's weird."

Zuma blinks. "Wait, like... creepy watching?"

"Exactly like that."

Rocky leans forward. "Maybe he's just awkward. It's his first week here."

"Awkward is one thing," I snap. "This is different. He's not shy — he's studying him."

Chase's brow furrows. "Skye—"

"No, I'm serious," I interrupt. "Ask Ahri. She saw it too."

Ahri looks up from her table across the room, catches my eye, then gives a small nod before turning back to Violet.

Chase exhales slowly, leaning back. "Babe, look... maybe he's just trying to figure out who everyone is. I mean, I get it — first week's rough. People stare."

"Not like this." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. "This isn't curious. It's like he knows you."

The table goes quiet. Even Marshall stops fiddling with his straw.

Chase shakes his head, calm as ever. "I've never met him before."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes, Skye. I'd remember."

He sounds so certain it almost calms me — almost.

Zuma breaks the silence first. "Maybe we're overthinking this. He probably just doesn't have friends yet."

"Or maybe he's planning something," I mutter.

That earns me a look from Chase. "Come on. You don't even know the guy."

I hate the way that stings. I know he's trying to be reasonable — it's one of the things I love about him — but it still makes me feel small. Like I'm imagining it.

"Fine," I say finally, sitting back. "But don't say I didn't warn you if he keeps following you with his eyes like that."

Chase sighs, brushing his thumb over my hand under the table. "I'll keep an eye out, okay? Promise."

It's enough to make me nod, but not enough to make the feeling go away.

Across the cafeteria, Sparky stands up, grabs his bag, and leaves without looking back. But I see it — the way his head tilts slightly as he passes our table, like he's listening.

Like he's memorizing the sound of Chase's voice.

And even though Chase goes back to laughing with the others, I can't shake it.

Because I know what I saw.
And something about that boy feels like a warning.

The rest of the day crawls by.

Every class feels twice as long, every bell louder than usual. I try to focus, but my brain won't stay still. I keep thinking about Sparky — how he moved, how he never really blinked, how Chase brushed it off like I was overreacting.

Maybe I am. But that doesn't stop the unease sitting in my stomach like a stone.

By last period, the clouds outside have started to roll in — heavy, low, the kind that make the light in the classroom dim and sleepy. Everyone's restless. The teacher's trying to wrap up notes before the bell, and Chase keeps passing me doodles on his notebook paper, trying to make me laugh.

It almost works. Almost.

When the bell finally rings, we all spill into the hallway, that end-of-day buzz rushing through the air. Zuma's talking about practice, Ella's making plans for the weekend, and I'm just trying to shake off this weird heaviness that's been sitting on my chest since lunch.

Chase catches up to me by the lockers, Brett a few steps behind him with his crutches, moving slower but steady.

"You heading home?" Chase asks, grabbing his backpack.

"Yeah."

"Want me to walk you?"

I shake my head, smiling faintly. "You've got Brett with you. Besides, I'm fine."

He studies me for a second — that gentle look he gives when he knows I'm not saying everything. "You're still thinking about it, huh?"

"About him," I say quietly.

He sighs. "Skye—"

"No, listen," I interrupt softly, tugging at his sleeve. "Just... be careful, okay? Until we figure out what his deal is. I don't like how he looks at you."

He squeezes my hand. "I'll be careful. I promise."

"Good."

He smiles, that calm, steady kind of smile that always makes me feel like maybe the world isn't as messy as it feels. Brett taps his crutch against the floor impatiently.

"Come on, lovebirds," he says. "Mom's gonna kill me if I'm late again."

I roll my eyes. "Go. I'll text you later."

Chase leans down, presses a quick kiss to my forehead. "See you, Skye."

I watch them walk off together — Chase talking, Brett listening, the two of them falling into that easy rhythm that makes them more like best friends than brothers.

And even though the sight makes me smile, the unease doesn't fade completely.

By the time I reach the parking lot, I pull out my phone. One unread message from Mom flashes across the screen:

Mom: Coral's flight confirmed — she'll be here Sunday night! 💖

My heart does a little jump. Coral's coming. Finally.

It's been almost a year since she was last here — and she's the one who somehow knows everyone's secrets before they do. The one who predicted every couple in our group before they even realized they were couples.

If anyone can help make sense of what's going on — or at least distract me from it — it's her.

I tuck my phone away, the wind picking up as I start walking home.

Maybe I'm overthinking Sparky. Maybe this weekend will finally feel normal again.

But deep down, I know the feeling in my gut isn't gone.
It's waiting.

And I don't think Coral's timing is a coincidence.