Page 35 of Halo

“And … Did Prince Charming show up again?”

I groan. “Yes. It’s weird, right?”

“That he now stalks? Yes, that is very weird.”

It’s been over two weeks since I met Nick … and our almost kiss. We haven’t spoken since, but I’ve seen him the past couple of Tuesday nights, waiting in his truck in the parking lot across from the bar. He doesn’t get out. He doesn’t wave. I don’t even know if he’s there for me—or knows that I can see him watching me.

“Okay, you need to tell Skye about the creeper. Do you have mace?”

“Oh, Chelsea, I really do think he’s harmless—”

“Uh-uh. See, that right there? That is how you end up on the ten o’clock news.”

I snort. “You listen to too many true crime podcasts.”

“And you need more self-preservation.”

I nod. “Touché, my friend.”

We fall into laughter as a few girls from my class approach. “I got these for you, Ms. Harrison.” They hold out their hands, revealing a pile of dandelions. “See? You can put them in your hair—like us!”

“Well, at least the groundskeeper will have his weed-pulling done,” Chelsea murmurs.

I choke back a laugh, collecting a flower and placing it behind my ear. “What do you girls think?”

“You look like a—like a princess!”

“A princess?” I repeat. “High praise coming from three beautiful princesses.”

They giggle and blush, handing a flower to Chelsea. Our laughter is silenced by a blood-curdling wail. A hush falls over the playground as every child stills.

Panicked, I look across the yard and zero in on the sandbox.

Three boys are piled on top of another student, his small arms pinned beneath them as he struggles to get free.

Crap. I blow my whistle before hustling over to the fight. As I get closer, I instantly recognize the blond waves and discarded glasses. “Boys!” I clap my hands. “Get off of him!”

The boys freeze, quickly standing up to reveal a scuffed up Grady, his shirt now dirty and torn.

I reach out, standing him up. “Grady, can you tell me what happened—”

“Grady pushed Tucker!” One of the boys interrupts.

I blink.

Am I hallucinating? Grady—my shy, polite, sensitive little guy—started a fight?

“Grady …” I squat down on my haunches. “Is that true? Did you push Tucker?”

He slowly nods, pulling at his hair and staring at his scuffed up sneakers.

“Buddy, we don't push our friends.” I sigh. “Why would you do that?”

“Because he was being a little shit,” he murmurs.

My eyes widen as onlookers surrounding us gasp and giggle. I blow my whistle with a long trill. At the sound, the children swarm like a colony of ants, rushing to the designated area where they wait for their teacher to take them back to their homerooms. I hold Grady and the other boys back as I formulate a plan. “Grady, we don’t use words like that at school.”

He frowns, genuinely considering my correction before looking over at Tucker and then back at me. “But he was teasing me.”