Before the elevator and the giant, I was having a wretched day. The park was swarming with joggers, and I was on edge, desperately trying to corral three over-energetic Yorkies back to their condo without causing a scene. That's when I sensed someone staring at me, adding to my already mounting discomfort.

I turned around, hoping if I faced the person who was ruining my dog walking and making my skin crawl, they'd look away in shame. In my eighteen years, I'd found that there are two types of people on the planet: those who stare and those who avert their eyes. Honestly, I prefer the latter. Most days, I could do without the mothers steering their gawking children away or the drunk men making jokes about what a tall drink of water I am.

The man staring at me from the park seemed like one of the unsavory sorts—a delivery man with no destination. It made me want to crawl back to my condo and never come back. The whole point of getting to the park at sunrise was to avoid the idiots and the people who couldn't deal with the strange.

Before you accuse me of exaggerating, let me present the cold, hard facts. I, Terri Oakeley, was not just tall. I was a towering 7 feet 2 inches, or 218.44 centimeters, if you're my grandmother from across the pond. In a world designed for ordinary heights, I was gigantic.

It was mostly an inconvenience. I frequently wondered if the world was meant for everyone else but me, a sentiment that grew more each time my head crashed into a doorframe. I'd petitioned my dad and stepmother to let me do high school online after I was harassed and made fun of my entire middle school career. They'd allowed it, and I was only two months away from getting my diploma. Sure, I had no social life, and my best friends were my stepsister and cousin, but I never had other friends, no matter what brick-and-mortar school my dad tried to send me to.

The Yorkies pulled on their leashes, taking me further from the delivery guy. I did one more lap around the small fountain in the center of the park, The chill of the morning crept into my bones like a terrible fog. I watched the horizon for a moment, hoping it would not be a pea soup day in San Francisco. The weather when I checked it just had a chance of rain.

I was done with the park and the creepy stares. This morning, at least three men and women gave me judgmental looks as they went for their morning runs before heading to their tech jobs. I knew the type: rich, careless, and judgmental.

My Uncle Chris was the owner of Oakmore Tech, a prominent start-up in the Bay Area. They were known for their expertise in developing state-of-the-art gadgets for the future, or whatever that implied. It was up to my dad, the head of the PR department, to solve that, but Dad dedicated most of his time to managing his brother Uncle Chris's destructive playboy behavior.

I led the Yorkies out of the park towards the food truck, where I spent most of my dog walking money. Mr. Williamson sold the best street tacos on this side of San Fransisco, and he loved making breakfast for the joggers at the park. The older man waved me over and smiled.

"Morning, Miss Terri," he said. "You interested in your usual?"

"Sorry, Mr. Williamson, I need to get these three," I gestured back to the dogs, "back home before their owner sends me an angry text."

After all, the Yorkies weren't mine. My dad and stepmother had four kids between the two of them, and they argued we didn't have space for a dog. I'd gotten my dog-walking job from Mrs. Dorkepski, a sweet, if batty, old lady downstairs. Her son-in-law bought her a condo with his Silicon Valley money, which seemed to be a waste since she was always away and visiting them. I came in most days, walked the dogs, and made sure they got regular meals.

"Wishing you the best of luck," Mr. Williamson said.

I steered the Yorkies down the street and back to the condo building. As I turned the corner around the block, I tossed a glance over my shoulder. The weird delivery guy was now talking to Mr. Williamson, but he was looking past him, and our eyes met. I turned back and tried to urge the dogs to move faster.

Panic filled my veins, and my heart didn't slow until I was standing in the condo's lobby building, waiting on the elevator. There wasn't a bellhop on duty until seven, and I took a deep breath and kept glancing back at the door to the lobby. No one passed by outside, but tension gathered in my head behind my eyes. I'd take some painkillers the moment I got home.

The ding of the elevator made me jump. I carted the dogs into the elevator, waved an ID card over the sensor, and pressed the button for floor six. The doors shut, and one dog rubbed against my leg like it was trying to comfort me.

I was just being silly. After all, why would someone try to follow me? People just watched me. They rarely approached unless they were old or too young to know any better.

By the time the doors opened again and the dogs charged into Mrs. Dorkepski's apartment, I'd reassured myself it was nothing. I took a breath and followed the dogs into the old woman's living room. I checked their food bowls as the Yorkies lapped at their water. Then, I looked over the condo to make sure nothing was out of place.

Mrs. Dorkepski had a housekeeper and an interior decorator. Her condo looked showroom-perfect, as usual. The dogs had their own rooms, and for someone who shared a room with her stepsister, that felt like a bit much. Still, she paid me twenty bucks a visit, often twice a day, to care for her precious pups.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I groaned. The only thing I didn't like about Mrs. Dorkepski was that she liked to micromanage my work. I fished out my phone and saw the call instead was from my stepsister, Jilly.

"You won't believe this," she sounded huffy the moment I picked up.

I stifled a laugh. "What did the boys do now?"

"Nath left a bucket of water outside the bathroom door," Jilly said. "I'd just gotten my hair dried and curled. Then, when I opened the door to leave, I got soaked again. Nath and Geoff ruined my hair."

"The hairdryer is in the bedroom," I said.

"It's the principle of the matter," Jilly said. "You know what Mom and Chuck said?"

Our parents weren't the strongest disciplinarians. My stepmother Elise was working on her Ph.D. in family psychology, and my dad Chuck ran PR damage control daily.

"Did my dad say it was harmless?" I guessed. "And Elise said they'd grow out of it?"

"Mom said it was just water." I could see Jilly rolling her eyes in my head. "We've got to teach the boys a lesson."

"Another day, Jilly," I smiled. "Get dry, and I'll be there shortly. I'm about done with the dogs."

"Fine," she grumbled. "But you get down here. I need backup. I'm outnumbered."

"Give me five minutes," I said.

She said something else about the annoying boys before hanging up. I finished up with the dogs and summoned the elevator. Mrs. Dorkepski would be back this afternoon, so the dogs wouldn't be alone that long.

The silver doors finally opened after what felt like forever, and I slumped inside. The delivery guy from the park stood in the elevator with a box in his hands. He had on a green polo shirt and tan pants. His hair was slicked back, and he looked me up and down and stared long and hard.

"Well, hello, little lady," he grinned.

I tried to stand as far away from him as possible, but I had to lean over him to get to the panel to swipe my card and push the button for my floor. I could swipe the ID, but he stood directly in front of the buttons. Gritting my teeth, I summoned a smile.

"Fifteen, please," I said.

The man leaned over the panel with all the floors and jammed the door's close button with his finger. "What was that, hon?"

"Can you push floor fifteen, please?" I repeated.

I didn't want to spend a moment longer than I had to in this elevator with this man. He wouldn't stop staring at me as if I were his personal eye candy. It wasn't like I was wearing anything provocative. I wore sweats made by my grandmother, a raincoat, and my brown hair in a messy bun.

At that point, I tried to push around him to push the button myself. The man caught my arm and mashed the door close button. I watched as the doors cut us off from Mrs. Dorkepski's condo, trapping me in the elevator with a strange man.

"You aren't getting away that easily," the man said.

My face paled. "What do you want?"

I'd been right about this guy. My heart picked up its frantic pace as the elevator moved up. On closer inspection, the delivery guy had dark purple hair, and his eyes were wild and a strange shade of citrine. A chill ran down my spine as he squeezed my arm.

"You have no clue, princess," the man licked his lips. "Well, you are a fabulous specimen. Hassan'son has his princess, so maybe it won't matter if I take a bite."

I made a move for the emergency button to call the police on the elevator panel, but the man twisted my arm behind my back. I screamed in pain.

"Yeah, not on my watch."

The voice caught me off guard. I followed the sound with my eyes. When I looked up, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Hanging in an emergency hatch was a teen my age with a copper tan and long dark hair half pulled back into one of those scruffy man buns. He hung down easily like a monkey, and his liquid bronze eyes met mine.

"Ethesis," the delivery guy spat the unfamiliar word like a curse and dropped my arm.

"Not my name, you big galoot," the guy reached his arm down. "Need any help, ma'am?"

"I'll kill you," the delivery guy shouted.

He swung at the teen hanging from the elevator's ceiling. The teen dodged and laughed. Then he blew some kind of sparking dust at the hulking man that made him stumble.

"Your father would be disappointed," the delivery guy said.

Then he fell face-first on the elevator floor with a much heavier impact than should have been possible. The entire elevator shook, and the teen glanced up at a fraying elevator cable. Then the cord snapped.

"Oops," he said. "Take my hand."

Silently, I cursed. The elevator was about to fall, and we were a dozen stories up. The elevator tilted, and the guy reached out his hand slightly farther as I made a split decision to grasp his wrist. His fingers wrapped around mine. He nearly pulled my arm out of the socket as he pulled me through the emergency hatch, just as the elevator crashed far below.

Hello friends! Welcome to the Half-Giant's Guide to Seeing the Future. I'd love to hear what you think. There's more story to come soon!