Finnian tried to focus on the lesson, but it was impossible with Kieran sitting directly behind him. He could feel those dark eyes boring into the back of his head, could hear the soft whisper of breath that seemed too close to his ear.
Halfway through class, he felt something brush against his shoulder. He turned slightly and saw Kieran leaning forward in his seat, close enough that Finnian could smell something strange on his breath—something metallic and cold.
"Interesting class," Kieran whispered, his voice barely audible but somehow carrying clearly to Finnian's ears. "I love stories about obsession. Don't you, Finnian?"
Finnian jerked away, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. Several students turned to look at him, including Mrs. Henderson.
"Mr. Ravenswood? Is everything alright?"
"I... sorry. Just dropped my pencil," Finnian mumbled, bending down to retrieve the pencil that had indeed fallen from his nerveless fingers.
When he straightened up, Kieran was sitting back in his seat, looking perfectly innocent. But there was something in his expression—a glint of satisfaction that made Finnian's skin crawl.
The rest of the class period dragged by like an eternity. Every few minutes, Finnian would catch a whisper of movement behind him, or feel the prickle of eyes on his neck. But whenever he turned around, Kieran appeared to be paying attention to the lesson, taking notes in neat handwriting that looked far too precise to be human.
When the bell finally rang, Finnian shot out of his seat and bolted for the door. But Kieran's voice followed him into the hallway.
"See you around, Finnian. I'm sure we'll have lots of classes together."
---
The rest of the morning was a nightmare of paranoia and dread. Kieran seemed to be everywhere—in the hallway between classes, in the cafeteria during lunch, even in the library where Finnian tried to hide during his free period.
And the worst part was that nobody else seemed to notice anything strange about him. Teachers welcomed him warmly, students invited him to sit at their lunch tables, and he charmed everyone with his quiet demeanor and mysterious background.
But Finnian saw the truth lurking beneath the surface. He caught glimpses of it in reflective surfaces—windows, mirrors, the polished surface of the trophy case. Quick flashes of something inhuman before Kieran's features snapped back to normal.
By fourth period, Finnian was a wreck. His hands shook as he tried to take notes in calculus, and he jumped every time someone walked past his desk. Mr. Peterson asked him twice if he was feeling well, and Finnian could see his classmates exchanging worried glances.
*Maybe I should go to the nurse,* he thought. *Maybe I should go home. Maybe I should—*
"Mr. Ravenswood?"
Finnian looked up to find Mr. Peterson standing next to his desk, looking concerned.
"I asked you a question about the derivative of x-squared. Are you with us today?"
"Sorry, I... what was the question?"
Before Mr. Peterson could repeat himself, there was another knock at the door. Finnian's heart sank as he saw Mr. Walsh enter with Kieran in tow.
"Another new student for you," the guidance counselor announced. "Kieran here has quite impressive math scores from his previous school."
"Wonderful," Mr. Peterson said, though he looked slightly overwhelmed. "Find a seat anywhere, Kieran."
This time, Kieran chose a desk three rows over, where Finnian couldn't see him without turning around completely. But somehow, that was even worse. Not being able to see where Kieran was, what he was doing, whether he was watching...
Finnian made it through the rest of class by sheer force of will, but as soon as the bell rang, he practically ran for the exit. He needed to find David and Maya, needed to tell them what was happening, needed—
"Finnian!"
He turned to see Maya jogging down the hallway toward him, David close behind. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his friends' familiar faces.
"There you are," Maya said, slightly out of breath. "We've been looking for you all day. David said he saw you running out of English like the building was on fire."
"And you missed lunch," David added. "Which is very unlike you. What's going on?"
Finnian glanced around the crowded hallway, then lowered his voice. "It's him. Kieran. He's here."
"We know," Maya said patiently. "We told you this morning, remember? He's transferring here."
"No, you don't understand. He's in my classes. All of them. Every single one I've had today."
David frowned. "That's... weird, I guess. But it's not impossible. Transfer students sometimes get shuffled around until they find the right fit."
"He's following me," Finnian insisted. "This isn't a coincidence. Yesterday at the dojo, now here... He's hunting me."
The words hung in the air between them, sounding even crazier out loud than they had in his head.
Maya and David exchanged another one of their looks.
"Finn," Maya said gently, "I think you need to take a step back and listen to yourself. You're talking about a classmate like he's some kind of stalker. That's not normal."
"Nothing about this is normal!"
"Exactly," David said. "Which is why I think maybe you should talk to someone. A counselor or—"
"I'm not crazy!" The words came out louder than Finnian intended, and several students turned to stare.
"Nobody said you were crazy," Maya said quickly. "But you're clearly stressed out about something, and it's affecting how you're seeing things."
Finnian looked back and forth between his two best friends, searching their faces for any sign that they believed him. But all he saw was concern and pity and the kind of careful patience people used when talking to someone they thought might be having a breakdown.
"You know what?" he said quietly. "Forget it. Just... forget I said anything."
He turned and walked away, ignoring their calls after him. As he headed toward his locker, he caught sight of his reflection in a window and barely recognized himself. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes wide and haunted. He looked like someone on the edge of a complete mental collapse.
*Maybe they're right,* he thought. *Maybe I am losing my mind.*
But as he opened his locker, he found a note tucked between his textbooks. Written in that same unnaturally precise handwriting he'd seen in English class.
*"Looking forward to getting to know you better, Finnian. We're going to be such good friends."*
The paper slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. When he bent to pick it up, the note was gone.
Finnian slammed his locker shut and leaned against it, his heart racing. Around him, the normal sounds of high school life continued—laughter, conversation, the slam of locker doors, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors.
But underneath it all, he could swear he heard something else.
Soft, measured footsteps. Following him.
Always following him.