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interview,” he said, finally looking back up to me and dropping his hand to his lap.
    He sat there trying to pretend that spark we’d both felt had been nothing more than static electricity, but I think we both knew better. It had been something else, something huge. Something I couldn’t begin to understand. What was going on with me? What was going on between us ?
    “But let’s do it in person, okay? We’ll do dinner tomorrow night at Shae’s.”
    “No, no, no,” I said, still caught off guard by the spark. I tried to steady my breathing as I collected my thoughts. I was nowhere near ready to sit through another awkward conversation, like the one we’d just had, so I shook my head. “A phone interview will do just fine.”
    “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind meeting you.”
    “ I mind,” I said. “I just… I don’t do well in one-on-one settings.”
    “You’re doing fine now,” he said , and I felt my cheeks flush red with warmth.
    “Just let me call you, Gabe, please.”
    “Okay, sure,” he said. I programmed his number into my contacts. “Call anytime.”
    “Yeah,” I said, forcing my phone back into my pocket. “I will.”
    I stood up , slung my purse over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
    “’Ey Mandy,” he said , tilting his head back. “I’ll look forward to your call.”

Six
    “I’ll look forward to your call,” 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.
    I dedicated the better part of the afternoon working on an English essay and avoiding my sister, and thankfully, my father, too. I’d noticed that Dad was spending most of his free time working . That kept him out of the house and down at his office most evenings. Sundays were certainly no exception. As for Bailey, it was always hard to nail down exactly where she’d be.
    And that’s basically how the rest of the weekend played out. Monday morning rolled around and it was time for school, so I stuck to my everyday routine and got ready.
    The drive to school was an interesting one because this time I had Bailey in tow, and she was only one more distraction that I didn’t need while behind the wheel. Since hitting Gabe on Saturday morning, I’d suddenly become the most paranoid driver on the planet. I paid extra special attention to the road as I turned off Main Street and drove by the park gates off of Highway 6.
    “You’ve been quiet this morning,” Bailey said, observing me from the passenger’s seat. “What’s going on?”
    She didn’t need to know that I’d been thinking of Gabe as we passed the park, and she most certainly didn’t need to know about the spark.
    The less Bailey knew, the better.
    “Nothing.”
    “Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Try again.”
    “I’m allowed to be quiet.” I barely darted a look at her before focusing my attention right back to the road. “It’s nothing.”
    “Yeah, my infallible twintuition says otherwise,” she said. “You’re gripping the steering wheel