It's lunch time, and I'd usually be excited about this. Getting to spend extra time with Luna is always a highlight of my day, like finding an extra fry at the bottom of the bag, except the fry is a person and also happens to be adorable.
But I'm not with Luna right now.
Instead, I'm stuck doing my new favorite activity (and by favorite, I mean least favorite): skulking around Jack's locker.
I'm taking mental notes of everything I can observe. How busy the hallway is (moderately packed, enough people to blend in but not so many that I can't keep eyes on Jack's locker). Where students are currently standing (clusters near the vending machines, couples doing that casual leaning-against-lockers thing). Different places around the hallway where I could stand without attracting attention (there's a water fountain to my left, a bulletin board even further to my left, and a convenient alcove near the bathrooms).
Information is king, and the more information I have, the more likely I am to succeed in my next task.
From where I'm currently standing, I can see Jack walking down the hallway. And I make a note of the direction he comes from.
He stops in front of his locker, and instead of opening it immediately, he pulls out his phone. His face lights up and he gets completely distracted by whatever's on the screen.
I need a better angle.
Slowly, casually, I reposition myself. I take a few steps toward the water fountain, pretending to check something on my phone, then drift closer to the bulletin board. From this new vantage point, I can actually see his device, though not clearly enough to read anything specific.
It looks like he's texting someone. I catch glimpses of what might be messages, but I'm too far away to make out actual words. All I can tell is that whatever he's typing is making him smirk, and that's never a good sign.
He finishes whatever digital conversation he's having and slips his phone back into his pocket. Left pocket of his bomber jacket, just like yesterday. Good to know he's consistent.
Then he opens his locker, grabs what looks like a textbook and a notebook, and heads off toward the cafeteria, still wearing that smug expression that makes me want to throw something at the back of his head.
Well... that's my scouting mission done for now.
I check my phone for the time, realize I've spent almost fifteen minutes standing here like a creep, and immediately feel bad. I hate missing Luna time...
I hurry toward the computer science club room, weaving through the lunch crowd with the kind of desperation usually reserved for people trying to catch the last train home.
…
Time passes by quickly, and I'm already in the final class of the day. I should probably be paying attention to whatever's being said in class. But I'm not.
I'm staring at Jack.
He's sitting three rows ahead of me, and I've spent the last thirty minutes watching him instead of taking notes. This is probably what it feels like to be a nature documentary cameraman, except instead of filming majestic lions, I'm documenting the behavioral patterns of an absolute jackass.
He alternates between three distinct activities: writing notes (surprising, didn't know he was literate), leering at pretty girls in the room with all the subtlety of a searchlight, and completely spacing out while staring at the wall.
A notable thing, though, he never glances at his phone during the lesson. Not even once. Interesting.
The final bell rings, and I tail Jack out of the classroom, keeping a safe distance. He's moving with purpose, practically speed-walking to his locker. He spins the combination lock with practiced ease, yanks open the door, and pulls out a string bag.
He places his phone inside the bag. Then he slams the locker shut and heads outside toward the football field.
I follow, keeping to the edges of the student crowd that's flooding out of the building. It's easy to blend in with the mass exodus of people desperate to get home and forget that school exists for the weekend.
Jack reaches the football field and makes his way to the sidelines. There's a pretty female manager standing there, organizing equipment and looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else.
He drops the string bag next to her, then leans in and says something that makes her face go from neutral to disgusted in record time. I'm actually too far to hear what he says from here, even with my enhanced hearing, but based on her reaction, it was probably something crude and unwelcome.
After delivering his verbal garbage, he jogs off toward the field house, probably to change or do whatever pre-practice rituals football players do.
I'm currently standing in the field, trying to blend into the groups of students walking home for the day.
But then the groups gradually thin out.
One by one, people peel away toward the parking lot, toward the bus stops, toward their normal after-school lives. And suddenly I'm feeling mighty exposed, standing mostly alone in the wide grassy field, openly staring at the football field like some kind of suspicious weirdo.
After just a moment of hesitation, I walk back inside the building.
I think I just found another potential way of getting Jack's phone. Just wait until football practice and take it from his bag while no one's looking. I'll just need a way to distract the manager sitting right next to it.
I'll figure out the details later. Right now, I have somewhere much more important to be.
I run to the computer science club room..
"Hi Luna!" I call out.
She looks up from her screen, and her face does this thing, this beautiful thing where her eyes light up and her whole expression softens.
"Adam!" Her voice is soft but genuinely happy. Then her expression shifts, becoming more vulnerable, and she looks down at her keyboard. "I was... I was worried you... weren't coming today..."
There's this sadness in her voice that physically hurts to hear.
"What? No way! I wouldn't miss hanging out with you." I drop into the chair next to her, grinning. "Sorry I'm late, just had to do some more reconnaissance work on our least favorite person."
She glances at me with those big violet eyes, and there's this tiny smile playing at her lips. "You're... not very good... at being a spy..."
"Excuse me?"
"You keep... telling me... about all your missions..." The smile gets a little bigger, more mischievous. "Spies are supposed to... keep secrets..."
I can't help but laugh. "Okay, fair point. But you're different! You're like... my partner. The Q to my James Bond."
"Partner..." She repeats the word softly, like she's testing how it feels, and her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink before she quickly looks back at her monitor.
God, she's cute.
We settle into our usual rhythm after that. Luna tells me about something interesting that happened in her mobile Sims game (the family she's controlling got a new cat!) And we spend too long talking about what the new pet should be named.
Then, we move on to other topics. She's watching some new anime, with an absurdly long title, something like "I Was Reincarnated as a Shield and Now I Have to Protect a Cat Girl in a Fantasy World" or whatever, and the way she explains the magic system makes it actually sound interesting.
Then we swap music recommendations. I show her some songs I've been listening to, and she shows me hers. Turns out Luna has a secret love for 2000s pop punk, which is both surprising and somehow makes perfect sense. Of course this shy girl who hides in oversized hoodies loves music about teenage angst and rebellion.
We continue talking.
But my mind keeps drifting.
I'm doing everything I can, aren't I? I'm working out twice a day until my muscles scream. I'm spying on Jack every morning. I'm planning elaborate schemes to steal his phone.
And yet... it doesn't feel like enough.
I thought I'd been working hard, really pushing myself, making real progress. And I have! The numbers don't lie, my stats have gone up, I'm stronger and faster and way better than I was a month ago.
But I've still been taking this too lightly. Treating it like a game, like a fun power fantasy, when the reality is that real people are in real danger… Luna is in danger.
At any moment, something could happen that I'm completely unprepared for. Something I can't handle with my current level of strength.
I need to be better. Stronger. I need the kind of power that means I never have to feel this helpless again. Not just physical strength (though that's important), but wealth, influence, connections. The ability to actually change things, to protect people, to bend the world just enough so that the people I care about stay safe.
"Adam...?"
Luna's soft voice pulls me back to reality, and I realize I've been staring blankly at my keyboard for who knows how long.
"Are you... feeling okay?" She's watching me with those big violet eyes, concern written all over her face. "You seem... far away..."
"Yeah! Yeah, totally fine." I force a smile that probably doesn't reach my eyes. "Just thinking about stuff."
She doesn't look convinced.
For a moment, she just looks at me, studying my face like she's trying to solve a puzzle. Then she does something that completely destroys me.
She scoots her chair closer, then she reaches out, slowly, hesitantly, like she's afraid I might pull away, and her hand gently touches my hair. Her fingers are soft and light, barely making contact, like she's afraid she might hurt me. She starts patting my hair in this soft, rhythmic motion.
"There... there..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Please... don't worry... so much... You're already... doing so much... for me..."
I freeze. The gentle pressure of her hand, the quiet comfort in her voice, the fact that this incredibly shy girl is trying to console me when she's the one being threatened, it's too much.
I feel something hot prickling at the corners of my eyes and force it down through sheer willpower.
This girl, this shy, quiet girl who can barely talk to strangers, who hides behind her hair and oversized hoodies, is trying to comfort me. She's worried about me worrying about her, which is such a backwards situation that it would be funny if it wasn't so touching.
"Thanks, Luna." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "That... that means a lot."
She keeps patting my hair for another moment before pulling her hand back, her cheeks slightly pink.
The heaviness in my chest hasn't completely disappeared, but it's lighter now. More manageable.
But the determination is still there, cold and sharp and unwavering. I will protect this girl. I will protect everyone I care about. No matter what it takes.