Dario Summerlin entered the classroom and flopped into his chair, ready to learn and even more ready to leave. A pencil was tucked behind his ear and his notebook dropped on the desk so he'd have something to doodle on. A glance at the clock let him know he was early so he simply waited. He caught sight of a lanky teen standing not far from the professor's desk. How he managed to miss the dark haired teen was a mystery in itself. The teen stood with his back straight and his knees locked into place, staring the professor dead in the eye with grim determination.

Looking at him in that pose made Dario's back hurt.

Something passed between the two figures, like electricity, before the dark haired teen backed down. He walked to the door and looked back before he left. "I'm right," he said. "The calculations are wrong. I proved it and still you do not see."

Well, that was awesome, amazing, and on-turning, Dario thought as the professor got back to business, as if the strange dispute had never gone on. What the two could possibly have been talking about, arguing about apparently, before the rest of the class came in was only known to the dark haired teen and the professor.

The two must clash a lot, because he found the teen there again the next day. He was paler than the day before, and didn't stand as tall, but he still had that proud air about him. He didn't leave this time, but took a seat at the back of the class and stared out the window, occasionally watching the professor before looking back out the window.

Dario watched him for a little while. The other teen wore long faded jeans that flared at the knee, somewhat hiding a pair of plain brown clod hoppers, with an even plainer white v-neck t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He wore no belt nor any kind of wristbands, unlike the rest of the class. Everything about the dark haired teen seemed to scream 'Doesn't Care' and he found that intriguing.

Class ended and he hung back to watch the strange teen and professor duke it out. They didn't do that, though. They spoke in low tones, too low for Dario to hear and understand, and the teen paled before he hissed something at the professor. The professor backed up and turned pink before he pointed towards the door and the teen left, walking slowly with his head hanging.

Dario followed. He reached the rapidly emptying hallway and followed the teen towards the big double doors only to lose him in the parking lot. He kicked a trashcan in frustration and started walking home. He caught sight of the strange teen climbing into a red car and drive away.

He jot down the number on the license plate and whirled around, going back towards the school building. He needed an internet connection.

An hour later he shut off the computer, ready to throw a tantrum. He had no luck in finding who the strange teen was and it was driving him nuts.

"Hey, Dario, you keep looking at the monitor like that and it's gonna burst into flames. What gives?" a feminine voice said and a blonde girl flopped into the chair next to him and propped her foot up on the table.

"I'm trying to find someone."

"Why?"

"....because."

"Ah, one of those. Ya got a name?"

"No."

"Address?"

"No."

"Does said person even come here?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere!" she clapped her hands together and flipped open her cell phone. "What classes?"

"Dr. Fuller's. Second to last period."

She dialed a number and started talking to whoever was on the other end. She grabbed a sheet of paper and started jotting down a list of names. "Thanks, Mack. See ya later at the meeting," she hung up and pushed the sheet of paper towards Dario.

"What's this?"

"Everyone in the good professor's class, second to last period. Now it's your job to figure who he is."

Dario read the list of names and crossed out a couple, people he knew, and all the names of the girls, leaving only six names to check out. "Thanks, Gina! You're the best!" he hugged her tightly and bounced out of the library.

"You owe me!" she called and he waved at her.

He got home thirty minutes later and pulled a couple year books out of his bookshelf and sat down on the floor to check more names. He managed to positively cross off all but three names. All he had to do now was get some addresses.

And that called for the information dealers.

"Dario, I'm home. Did you start dinner?"

He got up and bounced to the kitchen to find his mother filling a pot with water. "Sorry, Mama, but you know I have a talent for burning water."

"It's okay, honey. You really should learn to cook at least some macaroni," she said then indicated the stack of mail she'd put on the counter. "Go through that, will you please?"

He sorted thought the mail, making stacks for the bills and junk mail, and found a manila envelope for him. His package from the leather shop he'd found online. "Mom, my vest came in!" he said and pulled it out of the envelope and slipped it on. It fit like a glove.

"Lookin' snazzy, honey. Now you have somewhere to put your patches."

He beamed at that and carried the junk mail to the trashcan. "See ya next week, Junk Mail!" he said as he dumped it into the compacter and shut the little door.

"Thank you, dear. Is your father home yet?"

"I didn't bother to look when I came in, but the garage door was open. Maybe he's working on the car again. I'll go check," he left the kitchen and jumped the two steps to the garage. "Dad, are you in here?"

He knelt to look under the car and then inside. Nope, no Dad. He turned and was caught off-guard by a flash of light from a camera.

"DAD! Don't DO THAT to me!" he yelped and rubbed his eyes, seeing spots in front of his line of vision. His father laughed and pat his head.

"That was such a good shot, my boy! Thank you for participating."

"Mom wants you, by the way," Dario called as his father made his way for the dark room.

"Wha-? But-"

"No buts!"

"Man," his father muttered and trudged to the kitchen. Dario shook his head at his father's lack of maturity and made his way to his room.

He dialed a number on his line and waited.

"Hello, City Morgue. You slice 'em, we dice 'em. You kill 'em, we chill 'em. Front desk," said the boy on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Morty, I need some information."

"Person, place, or thing?"

"Person."

"I'll hand you over to Mack. Please hold." Dario waited for a few seconds before the line clicked. "Hello, this is Mack."

"Mack, I need a couple addresses."

"Hit me up with the names." Dario read the two names on his list and Mack agreed to get them to him the next day. It was going to cost him $20 and he was to meet him after school at his locker.

"Dario! Hey, pal," Mack said as he dropped one around over the shorter teen's shoulder. "Got your information for ya," he murmured in his ear and dangled a slip of paper in front of Dario's eyes.

He took the paper and looked at it. "Thanks, Mack, I owe you guys."

"Oh, I don't know, why don't you pay me and we'll call it even?" the tall blonde said as he dug in Dario's pockets for his wallet, making the shorter teen giggle and writhe when tickled. He came up with the leather billfold and took the twenty he required before slipping it back into its usual pocket in Dario's jeans.

"Thanks, Mack, you're one of the best!" Dario said and hugged the tall blonde.

"I know I am, that's why I work for who I do," he winked and lightly tapped the underside of Dario's chin. "Why don't you come and work for us, kid? You're great with the stalking thing, and I'm sure the Heads would appreciate your talents."

"Sorry, Mack, but I don't want to be in the Children Mafia. I like being a consultant better, more money in the deal for me."

"Okay, call me if you ever need anything. Especially if whoever you're stalking happens to object to such a ky-oot stalker!" he ruffled Dario's hair and disappeared, leaving him alone with a flush covering his cheeks.

He clutched the slip of paper in his hand and made his way towards the exit. He needed to get a map and locate the dark haired teen he was after. The weather had been sunny all day, but now it was clouding over and he could smell rain on the wind.

That might not be a very good sign, he thought and decided to hurry. He found what he wanted on the map for the transit bus and he waited for the right one. This would be a snap.

The bus dropped him off and he did his thing; walking around the neighborhood like he lived there and saying hello and making conversation with various people helped him blend in. Finding out about the family who lived at the address was easy, what with a talkative elderly lady with a pet dog.

Wrong person, wrong address. One down, two to go.

He bid the nice woman goodbye and caught another bus. This one took him to a gated neighborhood and he passed a video camera. Not his favorite thing when he was stalking someone. If someone figured out what he was doing, he could be arrested and he didn't want his unblemished record tainted.

It started sprinkling and he made a mad dash for some shelter, finding some under a large leafy oak tree on the corner of someone's well-cared-for yard.

No one was around, thanks to the rain, and he couldn't find out what he wanted. He gave up an hour later, after watching the address for the duration, and walked home. In the rain. Which he hated.

More drastic measures was in order. Damn it, how was he supposed to track this boy down?

He halted and smacked his forehead. "Of course! God, I'm such an idiot! Track him from the school! But how? He has a car and I don't. Hell, my driving sucks! I have no name, no address, and now I'm broke, dammit!"

He ran his hands through his hair and stared out into space, in the rain, getting drenched. It helped him to think, but the process of getting inspired in this way never appealed to him. Because now he was soaking wet and it made his clothes weight more. Very heavy. Very, VERY heavy.

He shook his head, unlodging the hair plastered to his forehead and looked up when he heard the sharp short-siren of a cop car. Shit! He turned and ran, only to skid on the wet concrete and get captured by the much taller officer.

"Uh... Hi?" he said and broke into an innocent smile.

"Why were you running, child? You're going to catch your death of cold!"

"I want to go home," Dario said in his best little boy tone. "I'm lost and I can't find my way back to my friend's."

"Do you have an address?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if it's it, ya know?"

"Haven't been in this neighborhood much, have you?" Dario shook his head and he was helped to his feet. "Well, come on, we'll help you get to where you're going."

"Thank you, sir," he said and followed the uniformed man back to the cop car. He thought, deep in the back of his mind, that this could be a bad thing. A little teenager in the company of two rather tall police officers would make anyone suspicious. So he stayed cautious of the two, answering their questions with short sentences and paying very close attention to his surroundings.

And hoped that the last address was the one he needed.

He relaxed after a little while, mostly when the two officers started talking about their wives and families, and he dismissed the silly idea from his mind. Why he thought that he didn't know, nor cared any longer. He told a couple jokes to the officers and made them laugh, getting them to trust that he was just a lost kid.

Worked like a charm.

They arrived at the address and he was escorted to the front door, much to his displeasure. This put a definite kink in his plans if this wasn't the right address. He hit the doorbell and waited for what was to come.