Jenny vaguely remembers seeing him around the school. Wa – Wallace? Wally? Wall-something, anyway.

"Hey." He says.

"What?" Maybe she shouldn't be so rude to him, but she can't bring herself to care.

"I've been watching you for a while now – not like a stalker!" He says in response to her horrified look, waving his arms around in desperation. "I mean, just at school, I'm not a sicko, it's just…" He sighs. "We had English together last year and you were – different." He seems to be analyzing her, memorizing her face and any emotions she expresses. She tries to keep her face perfectly blank. "You're smart, I know you are. You were really into it last year, you know? And I had a lot of respect for you. But now…" He trails off. "It's like every time I see you you've got this look on your face. You look miserable and empty and tired…and for some reason, I'm worried about you. You have so much potential, but you're just wasting away. I think you can do better.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

And for some unfathomable reason, she does. She tells him everything. How her mom has cancer and the doctors say she'll make it but she isn't so sure, how she's failing math because she got a zero on a test because a guy she doesn't know cheated off her paper, how she's starting to dye her hair and wear contacts because everything is going bubblegum pink but her skin is turning gray, how things just aren't right anymore and "Wally, I think there's something wrong with me."

"That's okay," he says, and tells her about his uncle and rebellious sister who comes home drunk and how his history teacher hates him because their political views are different, about the lightning and the running and the speed. "I think there's something wrong with me too."