Chapter III

I come home that day with a lot of homework, mainly from English and trigonometry. I go up to my study and start “working” on it.

Mom makes a pizza for dinner. I eat, even though I’m completely against freezer food.  It’s disgusting.

I just want to see if that guy is actually serious about coming here. I want to know more about him, but I don’t at the same time. I don’t want him to come to my house at all.

I go to bed, and leave the television on.  I make sure I lock the doors and windows in the house, even if I don’t believe he’s serious.  I try not to fall asleep, but I eventually do, leaving the TV on.

When I wake up, I feel a piece of paper in my hand.  I open it and it says: 

Yeah, I came here.  And I stole your silver locket.  With love, Skye.

I panic, and hopefully Mom doesn’t panic either.  I look at the doors to my balcony and they don’t look touched.  I hurry downstairs and check all the doors and windows there too, and they don’t look touched.  How the hell did he get inside?  I decide that I shouldn’t tell Mom about this, with no evidence that he came here.  She probably would go to the police about it, and we would look more stupid than we do already.  No, I won’t tell anyone about this.  The only people that can know about this are me and “Skye.”  And I guess that since it’s a new day, I can ask him about it.  Casually.

I go over the same routine as I did yesterday, and then walk the long walk to my locker, which happens to be six away from his. Coincidence? 

“What is this?” I ask, showing him the note in my hand.

“You know what it is.  Why is there a question?” he asks, softly.

“You are Skye. You left this in my hand saying you took my locket. That locket is special to me,” I say.

“Yes, I am Skye.  I kind of thought you would know that by now,” he says. He seems a bit too casual, and it seems like stealing is something he does a lot.

“What’s your problem?  Can I please have my locket back?”  I plead.

“Problem?  I don’t have a problem.  I’m actually really smart.  We need to go to English now,” he says and smiles.  I don’t smile back though.

I simply walk off, and I hear his soft footsteps trailing behind my loud, angry footsteps.