Chapter 5
FIVE
Rule Number Two of Adeline’s Guide to Overcoming Loneliness: Adeline, find a quiet spot and listen.
Sometimes the quietest things can speak the loudest, so let them speak, because there are more answers in the stillness than you know.
Take time to hear it. You’ll be surprised how much you can find out.
Just as I fasten the last button of my blazer, a chill runs down my spine.
As much as I tried to rid my mind of yesterday’s encounter, memories just keep creeping back.
It’s enough to make my skin crawl. I try to brush off the unease as Sam bursts into the room, her short, dirty-blonde hair swinging just above her shoulders.
“We’re going to be late!” she exclaims, wide-eyed and breathless.
I glance at the clock. “Sam, we’ve still got two whole hours before college. Relax!” I reassure her, turning back to the mirror.
Sam shakes her head frantically. “I just checked the schedule: it starts in forty minutes!”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Naomi mutters, stuffing her bag with books. “Addie?” She glares. “Didn’t you think to check the schedule?”
“I thought it started later. I’m so sorry,” I stammer, unable to prevent the guilt from flooding through me. I should have double-checked. I didn’t mean to mess this up.
“Well, apologies won’t fix it now. We have to move,” Sam cuts in, already heading for the stairs.
I nod quickly, fumbling to gather my things, mortified. This was supposed to be an exciting day, but somehow, I’ve already managed to ruin everything. Stupid, stupid.
I pick up my backpack, struggling to adjust the straps. This poor backpack has been in this sorry state for a while. Its straps are frayed and on the verge of snapping, and the zipper… I don’t even want to get into that. It’s about one wrong tug away from splitting.
Naomi and I rush downstairs, where Sam is already standing at the door waiting for us. I quickly slip on my battered shoes and run out the door. Clearly the nice, generous, rich man hadn’t thought about the footwear part of this agreement.
But just as I’m about to head out behind Sam, I think back to the stalker presentiment and for some reason, I get that same weird feeling.
The feeling that something is going to go wrong.
That something isn’t right. “Wait,” I call, stopping just as Sam heads out.
“Throw me the keys. I need to lock up,” I say, because I am not taking any chances.
I see Naomi and Sam get into the car, and panic settles in my chest. I stop in my tracks.
The train station isn’t close by, and I’ll probably be late if I don’t get a ride.
But the thought of getting into a car, even with my sisters, sends a shiver down my spine.
My father’s accident… Mason’s. My heart races, pulsing with memories I’d rather forget.
I’d hoped this fear had gone away, but it’s still here.
Horrible and relentless, and clearly affecting me more than my sisters.
“Come on, Addie! We’re going to be late!” Naomi yells from the car.
“I… I can’t. I just… I can’t get in the car.” My voice comes out strangled, desperate.
“Adeline, we don’t have time for this. If you don’t get in the car in five seconds, I’m leaving without you,” she snaps.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them see. “I’ll catch the train,” I manage to say.
I make a decision - one I might regret later.
Without a word, I take off running, my shoes slapping against the pavement as I sprint through the streets, the wind whipping against my face so ruthlessly I swear I’m seconds away from falling backwards on my butt.
But I don’t stop, instead I just run faster, weave through the streets and silently pray I’ll be able to make it to the train station in time.
This must look really weird. But just as I approach the station, my legs burn, and I mean burn, and my breath comes in short gasps. Clearly, I need to join a gym. With one last burst of energy, I sprint up the stairs and onto the platform just as the doors begin to close.
I quite literally stumble onto the train. Barefoot. And as I enter, I get some weird looks. “Yes, I’m not wearing any shoes,” I say, awkwardly putting them back on.
Jeez, have these people never seen someone barefoot before?
I don’t have time for their judgement. At least I made it on time.
Relief washes over me. I can’t believe I actually made it.
I scan the crowded train, desperately searching for an available seat.
To my dismay, I quickly notice there is only one left, and it happens to be next to a stranger with his hood up, which only slightly covers the cap he has on and the sunglasses covering his face. Gathering my courage, I approach him.
“Um, excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Silence.
Feeling slightly awkward, I take the seat anyway. “So… crazy morning, huh? I almost missed the train,” I laugh nervously, but he just stares ahead, completely uninterested.
Way to ruin the mood.
“I had to sprint like crazy just to catch it. It was like a scene out of a movie, you know? Dodging people left and right, my heart pounding, and then finally, just in the nick of time, I made it,” I say, fidgeting in my seat.
More silence.
“You know, these shoes, they’re not exactly the best for running.
In fact, they’re more like flimsy pieces of rubber and cotton attached to my feet.
So, when I realized I was about to miss the train, I did the only logical thing I could think of—I kicked them off and ran barefoot through the station. ”
I laugh more to myself than anyone else.
I begin questioning myself when I’m still met with silence. Am I making a fool of myself? Is it too much? Clearly, I don’t know how to make friends.
Please get me out of this moving vehicle before I throw up.
Please say something so I don’t actually end up doing that.
I glance at the stranger, hoping for even the slightest acknowledgment, but his gaze remains fixed ahead, as if I don’t exist. It’s almost as if I’m talking to an invisible wall.
But just when I’m about to give up any hopes of a conversation, the stranger suddenly turns to me, and although I can’t see his eyes—or most of his face for that matter—I can feel them.
Like heat.
Like gravity.
Boring straight into me like I’m made of glass and he’s not all that impressed by what’s underneath.
And yet.
There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the cut of his features, or the sharpness of his jaw. The symmetry of it all.
Maybe it’s the few freckles that are dotted across the high of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.
Maybe it’s the fact that he looks almost golden in this light. Shining.
Maybe, I think, that is what draws me to him.
But those things are all much too artificial. They’re easy reasons. Surface-level. Things you notice first, not the things that stay.
Because the truth is, it’s not just the way he looks. It’s the feeling of him. The way the air seems to shift just slightly when he moves, like the space around him knows he’s there and is adjusting accordingly. Like the world leans in a little closer.
There’s a presence about him—an energy. Bright, but not warm. Invisible, yet undeniable.
The kind of energy that would’ve intimidated me, maybe even repelled me, if I hadn’t been so drawn in by it.
I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because I still can’t see his whole face, and yet I know—in that instinctive, spine-prickling way—that this boy matters?
Or maybe it’s the feeling in my gut, that low, strange pull I can’t quite explain. Like I’ve seen him before in a dream I don’t remember, or a story someone told me, long ago.
It’s unsettling.
Unfair.
Unreal.
I force myself to look away, to ground myself in something that doesn’t feel like it might tip my entire day off balance.
But even then, even then, I still feel him.
That energy.
That presence.
Like I’ve unknowingly stepped too close to something powerful, and now there’s no stepping back.
Because now he’s looking at me.
“Do you ever stop talking?” he mutters, his voice terse with irritation, and I feel my face heat. I just know I’m turning bright red right now.
“Oh, um, sorry,” I stammer, shrinking back slightly in my seat on instinct. “I was just… trying to make conversation.”
He sighs, and I can almost imagine the look of irritation in his eyes. “I prefer silence.”
I swallow the pang of disappointment and lean back, plastering on a smile. “Guess we can enjoy the silence together, then.” Clearly, he isn’t even a little bit interested in engaging in any form of conversation.
Oh, Adeline, a voice in my head says.
Why do you always do this to yourself?
Why do you try so hard to fit into places that weren’t built for you?
Why do you have to be such a liability?
Maybe some people are just born forgettable.
And maybe I’m one of them.
Forgettable.
Replaceable.
Too much, in all the wrong ways.
The silence settles, heavy and awkward in the extreme as my leg bounces nervously.
I can feel him watching me, probably thinking I’m completely out of my mind, but I can’t help it.
In any other situation, I’d be embracing the silence, letting it speak to me, but now…
sitting on a moving train and being surrounded by it, all it’s doing is opening a door.
And once that door is open, my mind starts slipping.
I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.
“My name’s Adeline, by the way,” I say softly, and slightly desperately, in an attempt to fill the silence because it’s too loud otherwise. “Do you… live around here?”
He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t turn. Just exhales through his nose. “Do you have a particular reason you’re pestering me? Or is this a performance of some kind?”
I blink.
A performance?
What did he mean by that?
Does he think I’m pretending?
Maybe I am.