I mumbled under my breath as I stopped at the only traffic light in town. I shook my head and listened to my left turn signal click—click, click, click, click. I swore even my car mocked me. The clicks seemed faster than usual. Today they were unusually taunting. A faint groan slipped through my lips. I pulled away from the diner trying to let Gabe’s words roll off my shoulders—in one ear and out the other, you know? And it shouldn’t have been too hard. Dad always complained that Bailey and I had an incredible knack for tuning out and ignoring things, so why did it suddenly feel impossible to ignore just six, simple words? Of course I knew. It was because Gabe said them. I only wished I could understand why that meant anything. And what was with that spark? What was it about that guy? A chill got the best of me. Back home and far enough away from everything that had happened back at the diner, I spent the rest of the day avoiding any thought of Gabe, the Raddick Initiative, or my upcoming volunteer hours with the program.
