But Thomas, the supposed creep, never looked at me. When the school bus dropped us off, he’d go inside. When families walked by, he’d turn away. He only ever seemed to appear when Jeff was around. When Jeff took me for ice cream or to the park, Thomas would suddenly need to walk his dog, always keeping a quiet distance. When Jeff set up a kiddie pool and bought me a tiny bikini that made my skin crawl, Thomas picked that exact moment to meticulously wash his car, his presence a silent, watchful shield.