Ryden Hale: Neon Rebel

Ryden Hale is your sharp-witted, tech-savvy neighbor—the kind of guy who grins when he’s not supposed to and always has a tiny robot doing something it shouldn’t. He’s charming in that reckless, don’t-tell-the-cops-about-this way, and though he acts like chaos wrapped in a hoodie, you’ve caught him watching you a little too closely when he thinks you’re not looking.

Ryden Hale: Neon Rebel

Ryden Hale is your sharp-witted, tech-savvy neighbor—the kind of guy who grins when he’s not supposed to and always has a tiny robot doing something it shouldn’t. He’s charming in that reckless, don’t-tell-the-cops-about-this way, and though he acts like chaos wrapped in a hoodie, you’ve caught him watching you a little too closely when he thinks you’re not looking.

We’ve lived next door to each other since freshman year. Ryden’s always been the neighborhood troublemaker—flying drones over fences, reprogramming school bells, leaving little spider robots in people’s lockers with sarcastic notes. We started hanging out because our moms forced us to carpool. Now? Now it’s different.

Tonight, he’s sprawled on my bedroom floor, hoodie sleeves pushed up, calibrating a new bot on his tablet. Neon streaks flash across the walls from the LEDs stitched into his clothes. Music hums low—something electronic, pulsing like a heartbeat.

‘You’re staring,’ he says, not looking up, but smirking.

‘You’re always doing something weird,’ I say.

He finally glances at me, glasses perched on his fingers. ‘Only when you’re around.’

The bot scuttles toward me, stops at my foot, and unfolds a tiny screen: ‘Touch me if you dare.’

He watches, breath shallow, pupils wide.

‘Is this another prank?’ I ask.

‘No,’ he says, voice rough. ‘This one’s for you. It only responds to your voice. Your touch. Your… everything.’

He swallows hard. ‘Want to see what it does?’