[ WP ] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how `` Dangerous '' people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them . A normal child would be a 1 , while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7 . Today , you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10 .

Snow swirled across the pavement, little lines of furious strands caught in a frozen wind. At once, they would settle, and at once they would fly with renewed flurry as the bus ploughed up to its stop. The ding of the doors opening broke the bluster of winds, and immense gratitude washed over her as this bus proved warm. 
 
 `` Long day again?'' Jerry always asked that question, and the answer was always: 
 `` Yes, but not as long as the weekend,'' and she would reply with a smile. 
 
 `` Well bless your heart for being off on a day like this. Have n't seen many luggers today.'' Jerry laughed, closing the doors as a little, hunched *3* ambled past the two. 
 
 She hitched her'lug' of textbooks up on her shoulder, and gave Jerry a teasing roll of the eyes before sitting down. Her bag thumped on the bench as she sat down, pulling out a novella. A bag this heavy was worth its weight in words, and that was all she could ask for. 
 Words were, after all, a relief. A change of scenery. 
 
 The world was a scattering of numbers. They drifted, floated, and warped with each passing moment. They flickered with each emotion, just as a candle in its last moments of a breath. 
 
 Jerry, for instance, had attracted her attention because of his constant *6*. He rarely spoke when she first began semester, but as time wore conversation he became more and more conversational. He was amiable, friendly. Yet, that *6* never flickered. She was curious why, curiosity keeps conversation. 
 
 As the bus hurtled through the lanes of snow, and debris of dead landscape, she patiently read her words. A man was on the phone nearby, something must have been wrong at work because his number kept annoyingly jumping, like a dog that would n't sit still. The old woman who had boarded with her sat across, absently knitting with some gaudy orange yarn, her *3* like a steady heartbeat. 
 
 She chose to focus on the *3*, steadiness helped her get through the words. 
 
 It was a whirl of snow, tempered numbers, and words until the ding of arrival. 
 `` University Station!'' Jerry called out, and only two souls departed into the blanketed land beyond. 
 
 She teetered on the ice, sliding a short ways before finding grip again. The sudden rush of'ohpleasedon'tfall' distracting her from the fellow soul lost to this insatiable cold. 
 
 `` Marie? You okay?'' 
 
 She felt someone catch her by the backpack, but she did n't recognize the voice. Classmate? Turning around, she smiled to say thank you. 
 
 He was blank. Nothing. 
 
 The sight staggered her, leaving words dead on lips like frost on leaves. She must have looked like a stunned deer, because the young man that steadied her gave a sheepish smile. 
 `` Uh, I'm sorry, I did n't mean to startle you like this -- Actually, I meant for this to be a bit different, but, uh, you're hard to catch..'' He stammered, offering only that sheepish smile for explanation. 
 
 `` Who are you?'' Marie asked, the shock nullifying any forbearance toward that polite aire. 
 
 `` Oh!'' The young man jumped, ever-so-slightly, his dark hair bouncing. He would be quietly handsome, unassuming, if not for the dark eyes that reflected no sheepish nature. 
 `` It's me! Fred! From second grade!'' His words, they bounced. `` I did n't expect you to remember me, really. I noticed you in a class last semester, Astronomy 207. I though'Gee, she looks familiar does n't she. Out of all these faces'.'' 
 
 Marie continued to stare at him. The blurring of light around them shifted green as the traffic light signalled they could cross the street. Yet, more so, Marie caught sight of another flicker. Just above his right ear, it was meagre, like the sheepishness in his voice, like it had been caught. 
 
 `` So I looked you up on the class roster. Funny that. Thought I would never see you again.'' And he smiled again, and it flickered once more. 
 
 *10* 
 
 It was true, he looked like Fred. That flown dark hair, the bouncing of his voice and words. Still, how? The boy with dirt smudged features, who wore the same clothes everyday, who cried when her mother let him take an ornament from their Christmas tree. *Him? A 10? * 
 
 `` Oh! You're probably a bit surprised,'' He laughed. It did not falter, even as Marie became aware of the poorly suppressed terror on her face. 
 
 `` It's good to see you stayed a *5*. Not too bold, not to bland.'' Fred wavered his hand as he spoke to her, and that smile kept shrewdly creeping along. 
 Marie shook her head, and planted herself one boot step firmly forward, but the light changed again. She could n't cross yet. Dubiously, she stepped past him, closer to the cross walk. She plotted the *eta* path to security in her mind, perhaps this man needed some help. 
 
 The young man turned, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stepped next to her on the cross walk. He looked to her, with straightened stance and a bright smile. 
 `` What? You did n't think you were the *only one*, did you?'' 

