The pad buzzed. It felt like standing on a hive of angry bees.

  Physics textbooks—the ones Mr. Holder loves to thump against his desk like biblical tablets—claim that gravity is a constant force. But when you’re strapped to a hover-pad six feet above a synthetic turf field, gravity feels like a predator waiting for you to blink.

  “Formation Delta!” Coach Reynolds screamed from the sidelines, her voice amplified by a megaphone that could probably shatter glass in the next county. “And smile, ladies! If you fall, you fall with enthusiasm!”

  “Enthusiasm,” I muttered, bending my knees to absorb the micro-fluctuations of the engine. “Right. I’ll make sure to sparkle while I fracture my spine.”

  “Quit complaining, Nova,” Nancy Vane shouted from the pad to my left. She was hovering a foot higher than me, naturally. “It’s just a simple toss. Don’t choke.”

  “I don’t choke, Vane. I improvise.”

  I locked my core. The wolf inside me was restless today, pacing the cage of my ribs. It hated the hover-pads. It hated the instability. Wolves like solid ground, dirt, traction. This floating sensation triggered a primal alarm bell that screamed falling every three seconds.

  “Three, two, one… Launch!”

  I dipped, loading the springs in my legs, and pushed off the metal.

  The world tilted. I was airborne, spinning. The sky was a hazy, smog-choked cyan, the sun a blurry spotlight trying to burn through the clouds. My stomach dropped. The world blurred. For a second, the fear was gone.

  I tucked, twisted, and spotted my landing zone: Tessa’s shoulders.

  She was braced on her own pad, looking like a neon-pink statue. I hit the mark. My sneakers locked onto her uniform’s grip-panels. The impact shuddered through us, but we held.

  “Stuck it!” Tessa chirped, her hands gripping my calves. “You’re lighter today, Nikki. Did you skip lunch?”

  “I skipped the trauma of the cafeteria,” I said, balancing high above the field. “There’s a difference.”

  I extended my arms, flashing the victory V with my fingers. The crowd—mostly just the JV squad and a few bored janitor drones—didn’t cheer. But I felt the satisfaction anyway.

  Then I saw him.

  The field was a vast expanse of green plastic grass, bordered by towering aluminum bleachers that gleamed in the harsh afternoon light. They were mostly empty, a sea of silver benches.

  Except for one spot. Section C. Row 4.

  Danny Troy.

  He was sitting alone, separated from the rest of humanity by empty seats. He wasn’t looking at his phone. He wasn’t watching the practice—at least, not overtly. He had a book open on his lap, his head bowed, the dark hair falling over his forehead like a curtain.

  My pulse jumped. I ignored it.

  Ignore him, I commanded myself. You broke up with him yesterday. In the library. Remember?

  “Handy,” I subvocalized, keeping my smile plastered on for the Coach. “Target at three o’clock. Is he transmitting?”

  “Scanning,” the AI replied, his voice a dry buzz in my right ear. “Negative on the transmission. His scrambler is active, so he’s just a black hole in the data stream again. But visually? He’s reading a paperback. The crumbling gothic font suggests horror.”

  “Horror?”

  “Dracula, maybe? Or Frankenstein? It’s hard to tell from this distance without violating privacy laws I’ve already broken six times today.”

  I frowned, nearly losing my balance as Tessa adjusted her stance.

  Why was he here?

  We didn’t have a class together. He didn’t strike me as a cheer enthusiast. Yesterday, I had basically told him to get lost. I had walled him off to protect him from the Pandora signal I’d picked up. A normal guy would have taken the hint. A normal guy would be halfway to the arcade with Perkins.

  But Danny Troy wasn’t normal.

  He turned a page. The movement was slow, deliberate. Then, as if he felt the weight of my gaze from fifty yards away, he looked up.

  Even across the field, even through the haze of the afternoon heat, his eyes found mine instantly. There was no scanning, no searching. He just locked on.

  I leaned forward. My boots scraped the grip-tape. I wanted to jump.

  He didn’t wave. He didn’t smile. He just watched.

  “Whoa, wobble wobble alert!” Tessa squeaked, grabbing my ankles tighter. “Nikki, focus! You’re drifting to the left.”

  I snapped my attention back to the present. “Sorry. Wind shear.”

  “There is literally zero wind,” Tessa whispered loudly. “But there is a very intense transfer student in the bleachers who looks like he’s trying to telepathically communicate with you.”

  “He’s reading,” I said, dropping into the dismount.

  I flipped off her shoulders, landing on my own hover-pad with a heavy thud. The engines whined in protest.

  “Reading?” Tessa scoffed as we lowered our pads to the ground. “Please. He’s been on the same page for twenty minutes. I’ve been counting.”

  “You’ve been counting his page turns while holding a human being in the air?”

  “Multitasking is my superpower. And stalking is his, apparently.”

  I stepped off the pad, hitting the solid earth. The relief was immediate. My toes curled inside my sneakers, gripping the stability.

  “He’s not stalking,” I said, grabbing my water bottle. “He’s just… existing in a public space.”

  “Nikki, look at him.” Tessa gestured with her water bottle. “He’s totally waiting for you.”

  I took a long drink, the water metallic and lukewarm. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Well, he’s going to be waiting a long time. I’m busy.”

  “Busy doing what? Going home to stare at your wall?”

  “Busy surviving,” I muttered.

  “Again with the drama.” Tessa rolled her eyes.

  Coach Reynolds blew her whistle. “Again! From the top! And Vane, try not to look like you’re in pain! It scares the donors!”

  I turned back to the field. I forced myself to focus on the routine, on the count, on the physics of the toss.

  One, two, three, hit.

  But every time I spun, every time I faced the bleachers, I saw him.

  Danny.

  He sat still. Unnaturally still. A dark smudge against the silver bleachers.

  The Pandora signal from yesterday—the ghost Handy had found—wasn't pinging today. The air felt clean, at least digitally. But the threat was still there. I knew it.

  If I went over there, if I talked to him, I was painting a target on his chest.

  Stay away, I told him silently. Go read your book somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

  He didn't move.

  The practice dragged on. My muscles burned. The sweat trickled down my spine, itching under the uniform. The sun beat down, filtered through the smog layer into a sickly yellow glare.

  Finally, the whistle blew for the last time.

  “Hit the showers!” Reynolds barked. “And verify your biometric data upload before you leave! I want to see heart rates, people!”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  I grabbed my bag, shoving the pom-pom deep into the bag. I didn't look at Section C. I kept my head down, marching toward the locker room with the rest of the squad.

  “You’re running away again,” Handy noted, his voice quiet in my ear.

  I’m retreating, I corrected. Tactical withdrawal.

  “Semantics. He’s still there.”

  I risked a glance over my shoulder as I reached the tunnel.

  The bleachers were empty.

  Danny was gone.

  Good, I thought. He gave up.

  So why did the world suddenly feel a little bit emptier?

  *****

  The locker room smelled of lavender body spray and exhaustion. I showered quickly, scrubbing the sweat and the fake grass smell from my skin. I changed into my street clothes—jeans, an oversized hoodie, and my scuffed combat boots.

  I checked the mirror. My hair was damp, sticking up in white tufts. My eyes looked tired, the purple irises a little dim.

  Just a girl, I told the reflection. Just a normal girl going home.

  The wolf laughed in the back of my head. Liar.

  I left the school through the side exit, avoiding the main courtyard where the buses idled. I needed air. I needed to walk.

  The city was waking up for the night shift. Neon signs flickered to life, buzzing and popping. The air grew heavier, thicker with the scent of burnt wiring and old grease.

  I headed for the tram station, a few blocks away. The walk usually cleared my head.

  My sneakers scuffed against the cracked pavement. I passed a vending machine that was sparking, spitting out cans of soda onto the sidewalk. I stepped over a puddle of glowing green liquid that was probably radioactive runoff from the sewers.

  Just another day in paradise.

  I turned the corner onto 5th Street. The tram station glowed white in the distance.

  “Nikki.”

  The voice came from the shadows of an alleyway entrance.

  I didn't jump. My reflexes were too fast for that. I stopped instantly, dropping my weight into a combat stance, my hand hovering over the zipper of my bag for the taser.

  Danny stepped out.

  He looked different than he had in the bleachers. His shoulders slumped. He wasn't tracking the exits anymore. He looked restless, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched against a wind that wasn't blowing.

  “You’re hard to catch,” he said.

  “I’m fast,” I replied, not relaxing my stance. “And I thought I made it clear yesterday. I’m not in the market for a partner.”

  “I know.” He took a step closer, staying out of the direct glare of the streetlight. The shadows clung to him like a second skin. “I’m not here about the project.”

  “Then why are you here? Do you just enjoy hanging out in alleys? It’s kind of a cliché.”

  He offered a weak smile. It didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were dark, swirling with something that looked a lot like exhaustion.

  “I wanted to return this.”

  He pulled a hand from his pocket. He was holding my stylus. The expensive one I used for the mapping software. I must have dropped it when I fled the library.

  “Oh.” I blinked, the adrenaline fading slightly. “Thanks.”

  Not again. Did I have loose pockets or something?

  This wouldn't happen if I kept my crap together.

  I reached out to take it. I was careful this time. I grabbed the end of the plastic, making sure our fingers didn’t brush. No static. No sparks.

  Just the proximity.

  He smelled of old paper and that sharp, cold mint.

  “You could have given it to me in class tomorrow,” I said, pocketing the stylus.

  “I could have,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to wait.”

  He looked at me, really looked at me, stripping away the layers of sarcasm I tried to hide behind.

  “Why are you running, Nikki?”

  “I told you. Grades. Squad. Life.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The word was soft, but it landed hard.

  “You’re not worried about your grades,” Danny said quietly. “I saw your calculus homework. You’re a genius. And the squad? You treat gravity like a suggestion. You’re not stressed. You’re scared.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’re scared of this.” He gestured between us. The empty space charged with static. “Whatever this is.”

  I laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. “There is no ‘this’, Danny. There’s just a guy who reads too many horror novels and a girl who doesn’t have time for drama.”

  He flinched. The mask slipped further.

  He looked down at his boots. “It's quieter than my house. My dad... he likes noise. He likes control.”

  The fatigue in his voice stopped me cold.

  “What control?” I asked, my voice softening against my will.

  He sighed, leaning back against the brick wall. He looked so lonely then. Not the cool, mysterious loner kind of lonely. The kind that eats you from the inside out.

  “The family business. Imports, exports. Logistics. He wants me to take over. He wants me to be… him.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes pleading.

  “I hate it, Nikki. I hate the suits. I hate the boardrooms. I hate the way they look at people like they’re just… numbers on a spreadsheet.”

  I knew that feeling. I knew it intimately.

  I thought of uncle. I thought of the way Pandora treated life—splice it, dice it, sell it.

  “What do you want to be?” I asked.

  “A writer,” he said. A small, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. “Stupid, right? In this city? Who reads anymore? But… I want to create things. Not control them.”

  He pushed off the wall, pacing a small circle.

  “I’m lonely, Nikki,” he confessed. “I’m new here. I don’t fit in with the rich kids in the high rises. I don’t fit in with the… normal kids. I’m stuck in the middle. And yesterday? On the roof?”

  He stopped, looking at me.

  “That was the first time I felt like I wasn’t invisible. You saw me. You didn't buy the act. You challenged me.”

  My heart hammered against my ribs.

  He’s lying, a part of me whispered. He has to be. He's too perfect. Too handsome. He isn't normal.

  But another part—the part that remembered sitting alone in my room, staring at the wolf in the mirror—screamed that he was telling the truth.

  Maybe not the whole truth. Maybe he was still hiding something.

  But the emotion? The loneliness?

  That felt real.

  I could smell it on him. It smelled like rain.

  He was special, trying to be human. Just like me.

  “My family is… complicated too,” I said. The words slipped out. “Expectations. Legacy. All that crap.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. My uncle… he died a while back. He was brilliant. Everyone expects me to be like him. To solve the puzzles he left behind.”

  Literally, I thought, thinking of the encrypted drive.

  “It’s heavy,” I said. “Carrying ghosts around.”

  Danny nodded. “It is.”

  He took a step closer. The air between us felt thin. Static-charged.

  “I don’t want to do the project alone,” he said softly. “And I don’t want to be alone in this city. You’re the only person who hasn’t looked at me like I’m a wallet or a target.”

  I looked at you like a target yesterday, I thought guiltily.

  “I’m prickly,” I warned him. “I’m mean. I have a lot of secrets.”

  “I like prickly,” he countered. “And I have secrets too. Maybe… maybe we can just coexist. No pressure. Just physics and bad coffee.”

  I looked at him.

  I saw the vulnerability in the set of his shoulders. I saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

  If I walked away now, I’d be safe.

  But he wouldn’t be.

  And more importantly, if I walked away now, I’d be leaving the only person who might actually understand what it felt like to be a freak in a city of plastic.

  Pack, the wolf chuffed.

  Fine, I told the wolf. But we keep the taser close.

  I let out a long breath, uncrossing my arms.

  “Fine,” I said.

  Danny blinked. “Fine?”

  “Fine. We map the Rust Belt. But you stay behind me. And if I say run, you run.”

  A grin broke across his face—real, wide, and dazzling. It changed his whole demeanor. The shadows seemed to retreat.

  “Deal,” he said. “No Dracula. Strictly Frankenstein.”

  “You’re pushing it, Troy.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  The tram whistle blew in the distance, a mournful shriek echoing off the buildings.

  “My ride,” I said, jerking a thumb toward the station.

  “Right.” He stepped back, giving me space. “See you tomorrow? Library? 3:00?”

  “Make it 3:15. I have to ice my knees. Hover-pads are brutal.”

  “3:15.”

  I started to walk away, then stopped. I turned back.

  “And Danny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The writing thing? It’s not stupid. The world has enough businessmen. We could use a few more storytellers.”

  His eyes lit up. “Thanks, Nikki.”

  I turned and jogged toward the station, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

  I boarded the tram just as the doors were hissing shut. I grabbed a strap, swinging into a seat by the window.

  The tram lurched forward, picking up speed. I pressed my face against the glass, looking back at the street.

  Danny was still there. He was standing on the corner, bathed in the pink glow of a neon sign. He watched the tram go, one hand raised in a small wave.

  “Handy,” I whispered.

  “I’m here,” the AI replied. “And before you ask, yes, my analysis indicates you have successfully failed at being an Ice Queen. Your brooding quotient has dropped by 40%.”

  “Shut up.”

  “However,” Handy continued, his voice unusually gentle. “His pulse dropped. You didn't just accept a partner, Nikki. You accepted a liability.”

  I watched his figure shrink into the distance until he was just a speck in the smog.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, touching the glass. “I guess I did.”

  But who’s going to throw me one?

  The tram sped into the darkness of the tunnel, carrying me back to my penthouse, back to my secrets, and back to the inevitable moon that was waiting to tear me apart.

  But for the first time, the darkness didn't feel quite so empty.

  I pulled out my phone and opened the project file.

  Partner: Danny Troy.

  I stared at the name.

  Maybe monsters and humans didn't have to be alone. Maybe, just maybe, a monster and a human could be together.

  Or maybe we’d just destroy each other.

  Time will tell, the wolf whispered.

  I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of the tracks lull me into a restless sleep.