Valerie Storm did not sleep well that night.
Not because she was heartbroken. Absolutely not.
She slept poorly because some tall, rude boy had managed to call her a kid in the most condescending tone possible.
"I'm not interested in kids."she mimicked him
The words still echoed in her head like a broken record.
She tossed and turned, glaring at her ceiling.
"I am NOT a kid," she whispered, punching her pillow.
Her pillow did not reply. Typical.
Finally, Valerie gave up and grabbed her phone.
It was time to do some very official research.
She tapped her first contact.
"Hey, quick question. Do you know a guy who insults people at bookstores?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
A groggy voice finally answered.
"Uh… what?"
Valerie pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Never mind. Useless. Moving on."
Call two.
"Do you know a tall guy, dark hair, looks like he hates everyone, has an annoying smile?"
Pause.
"Uh… nope. Sorry."
Call three.
"Listen, I just need… are you even awake?"
"Yes… what do you want?"
Valerie threw her hands up.
"You're alive! Progress!"
Her friend finally gave her a lead.
"Ohhh… wait. I think I know who you mean. Basketball guy. Tall, quiet… goes to Westfield Public."
Valerie's eyes narrowed.
"Westfield Public?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Valerie grinned slowly.
"Nothing. Just.... my book research."
"Research?"
"Yeah. Totally normal, not creepy research."
Her friend laughed.
"Sure, Val. Sure."
Valerie hung up, already feeling the thrill of the hunt.
The next morning, she dressed like a self-appointed secret agent. Black hoodie, jeans, oversized sunglasses that screamed "don't mess with me", and sneakers.
She checked herself in the mirror.
"Professional, capable… slightly insane. Perfect."
Valerie stormed out of her apartment and hailed a cab.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing outside Westfield Public High School.
She stared at the building.
"…Eww."
The school looked like it had been forgotten by the government decades ago.
Paint peeling, bricks crumbling, and the basketball court fence practically groaning under the weight of its own rust.
Valerie sniffed the air dramatically.
"Do people actually survive here? Do they have PE or is this just… danger education?"
She pushed open the gate, walking cautiously as if it might collapse under her delicate presence.
Students milled about the yard, some laughing, some yelling, some clearly trying to figure out what the hell this random girl was doing here.
Valerie kept her sunglasses on, chin high, and marched straight toward the basketball court.
This was supposed to be basketball guy's turf, and she had missions to complete.
She stepped onto the court, took one look at the dusty floor, the warped bleachers, and the peeling paint on the walls…
"…Eww this is really creepy," she whispered again.
She wrinkled her nose. "I expected a little glamour. Maybe the faint scent of victory. Not… this."
Valerie was taking in the scene when she walked straight into someone.
THUD.
She stumbled back, almost landing on the cracked concrete.
"I—Ow!"
The person she collided with didn't move. He just looked at her with sharp, annoyed eyes.
"You're not from here, are you?"
Valerie blinked.
"I'm… conducting research."
"Research?" His tone was skeptical.
"Yes. Research." She straightened her hoodie. "About… public facilities… and hygiene."
He raised an eyebrow. "Right."
Valerie squinted at him. "And maybe… accidentally observing some tall, athletic boys?"
The boy narrowed his eyes.
"…You're weird."
Valerie gasped dramatically.
"Oh my god. You said it too! I'm starting a collection."
He tilted his head. "You talk a lot."
Valerie shrugged. "I'm a horror writer. Talking is part of the job."
They stared at each other for a moment.
Then Valerie noticed the basketball clutched in his hand.
"Are you… a basketball player?"
"Yes," he said, casually spinning it on his finger.
Valerie leaned back and raised her arms.
He stared at her like she had just confessed to being an alien.
Then, without warning, Valerie tripped on the cracked pavement.
He instantly moves aside letting her fall to the ground
"Ouch", she says touching her head a little too much
"I swear, you're like a hurricane wrapped in sunglasses."he looks down at her
Valerie looked up at him and grinned. "Kale."
"…What?"
"Okay, not your name. I'm just… naming you. For documentation purposes."
Kale groaned. "You're insane."
"Good. We understand each other."
Valerie pushed herself up, dusting off imaginary dirt from her jeans.
"And that," she muttered under her breath, "is how you walk into a basketball court and survive."
She glanced around the empty court again.
No tall, rude bookstore boy.
Not today.
Not yet.
She straightened her sunglasses.
"Patience," she whispered to herself.
"Mission still on."
And with that, Valerie Storm sat back on the bleachers, crossed her legs, and planned her next move—while Kale gave her a long, very skeptical look and Chuckled