I was going through my books by the locker when a shoulder bumped into mine. My head snapped around but he was already walking away, and all I could see was his back.

A gangly boy with drooping shoulders sauntered by, his stride awkward and unsteady.

"Hey."

I wasn't up for a quarrel, but something about him made me want to make this moment last.

He twirled around, his weary eyes glowing in a hue of warm ember. That was the first thing I noticed: his eyes. They were like two unpolished shards of gold. They were dazzling.

His charcoal-black fringes fell to his forehead and brushed his eyebrows. His quivering lips were the shade of icing coral and was rather feminine, much like a woman's.

Not gorgeous, not ugly. But he had an attractively mischievous and strange charm that I couldn't place. He was ethereal, as if he didn't belong to this world.

I didn't know it then, but he was lost and stranded in this world that wanted him dead.

"Yes?" His voice was weak, feeble.

I suddenly forgot what to say. "Hi."

Prolonged silence.

I stammered. "I don't think I've seen you before, uh, are you new?"

He shook his head slowly.

Of course he wasn't new. It was late November, halfway into the school year. He was the kind of person who floats around like ghosts. He's in your class for a lifetime but during graduation you stare at his photo and say "who's this guy?".

I pinched my thighs, regretting my words.

But he wasn't offended. Instead, it was as if a part of his spirit had returned.

"What's… your name?"

That, a question as simple as asking your name, sounded as if he was revealing the greatest secret in this universe.

"Sophia. Sophia Forster."

More silence.

"And you?"

"You can call me Mike."

I felt stupid for telling him my full name. I could have just said "you can call me Sophie," which is what my friends call me. That would have sounded more casual, not as if I'm signing up for a business contract or something like—

"I like your name."

That's what he said.

And one more thing: he smiled.

Wait, two more things: and my heart seemed to lose a beat.

When people smile, it's usually the ear-to-ear grin that spreads on your face. But a smile as beautiful as his, they pour out of his eyes and every bone and organ of his body. The motion of his chest lifting to the rhythm of his breathing, or the way his parched lips parted, literally everything fit perfectly.

Before he turned away, he murmured, "my name is Michael Anderson."

"I…I like your name too." I called back, but he was already gone.

He left without a goodbye. And a part of me believed that meant we're meeting again.

I saw him during geometry, at the library, the cafeteria, and a bunch of other places where he had always been, but I never noticed.

But we didn't talk again. To make myself clear, he didn't talk to me, and I was too freakin' nervous to approach him first.

So I watched. I watched as he always knew the answers but never raised his hand to solve the questions. I watched as he read books standing by the geography corner where nobody looked. I watched as he always sat by the furthest desk, the last in line.

He was never in a crowd, in a group of hippie boys, or stuck in a wave of gossip. He was alone, so utterly alone.

For the majority of the time his eyes were blank and devoid of emotions. I couldn't tell if he was lonely or enjoying the solitude.

What I didn't know was that he knew that he was being watched. Knew it all along. And that he'd been watching me just the same.