A few more people arrived at the stop. They struck up a lively conversation, and soon, almost everyone was chatting with a surprising degree of animation for a Monday afternoon. I considered removing my headphones long enough to find out what was going on. No one looked actively distressed. It was probably some development on the latest season of America’s Got Talent, which had been running since I was a child, and nothing I needed to worry about. I needed the peace and quiet more than I needed to know why they were so excited.

Decisions like that that had long since solidified my reputation as antisocial. I wasn’t going to change it any time soon.

The bus pulled up. We all got on, and I sat quietly as everyone chattered and waved their hands. This degree of excitement was unusual, and again, I considered finding out—but the song on my iPod was a good one, and I had been dealing with people for so many hours. I just wanted to get home. If this was such a big deal, there would be something about it online.

People got on the bus. People got off the bus. Some of the new people joined the ongoing conversation, waving their hands enough that I started to suspect this was something bigger than reality television. The more crowded and enthusiastic the conversation became, the less I felt like taking off my headphones. Joining a discussion with six strangers was one thing; joining a discussion with twenty was probably better avoided.

By the time we reached the park and ride where I was meeting Lucas, I was exhausted from the effort of not paying attention to what was happening around me. I hopped off the bus and trotted to the car, relieved to see Lucas waiting for me.

He started to talk as soon as I had my door open, his mouth moving fast as he gestured with one hand. I shook my head and pointed to my headphones.

“Just a second,” I said. “I can’t hear you.”

He knew that. I always got into the car with my music playing, like hearing even a few seconds of unfiltered street noise could hurt me. I slammed the door, fastened my seatbelt, and hooked the buds out of my ears, stuffing them into my pocket.

“All right,” I said. “I can hear you now. What’s up?”

Lucas stared at me, wide-eyed and apparently stunned. “Stasia,” he said. “Have you had those things on since you left work?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So you don’t know. You actually don’t know.”