Nadia couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You’d think anybody wearing those shoes would know they didn’t have the right to tell anybody else what to wear.”
Kendall, caught up short, stared down at her shoes like she was trying to guess what was wrong with them. They were fine, as far as Nadia could tell, but with fashion, attitude was half the battle. Verlaine’s face lit up; her smile looked uneven, as though she didn’t get much practice.
“Here you go, Miss Bender.” The secretary shuffled out with a manila folder, which Kendall snatched from her hands before stomping out. “And you are?”
“Nadia Caldani. I’m new. You should have my records from Chicago.”
“Oh, yes. We have your schedule—right back here—” The secretary wandered toward the back room, still in no hurry.
“Thanks,” Verlaine whispered. “Kendall was being such a witch.”
Nadia tried to brush aside her momentary annoyance. “I prefer bitch, actually. Most witches are perfectly nice people. Sorry—pet peeve.”
“No worries. About time somebody else with some attitude got here. Captive’s Sound is mostly a graveyard for the living.”
“Wow, you make it sound awesome.”
“I’m exaggerating. Graveyards are more exciting.”
Nadia smiled, but talking to Verlaine felt—weird. She didn’t want to make any friends. After the way everybody had started avoiding her in Chicago—like her bad luck was catching—well, “friendship” obviously didn’t mean what Nadia had always thought it did. And there was just something about Verlaine … something she couldn’t put her finger on....
There was no time to think about that, though. By the time the secretary finally waddled forth with her class schedule, Nadia was already almost late for her first class. She politely waved good-bye to Verlaine, who didn’t really react, only nodded; then she rushed toward what she thought was the right building. Forget the locker—that she could find later, and it wasn’t like she had any of her books yet.
“There he is,” whispered one girl excitedly. “Holy crap, he got even hotter over the summer. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“He’s nice to look at,” said another whisper, “but he’s bad news. You know that.”
“It’s a bunch of crazy gossiping old people. That’s all that is.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, how come you never talk to him, either?”
“Shut up.”
Nadia couldn’t help but turn her head to see who the whispering was about—and her eyes went wide.
Mateo. He was here, in her school—letter jacket on his shoulders, dark hair brushed back, even more gorgeous in the daylight than he’d been in the dark. In those first terrifying moments, she’d assumed he was a couple years older than she was, but apparently he was a student at Rodman, too.
For his part, when their eyes met, he froze in place. It was almost as if the sight of her—scared him.
But that couldn’t be right. He’d saved her from the wreck, which was the single bravest act she’d ever witnessed. Why would he be scared of her?
Nadia said, “Mateo, hi. I didn’t realize you went here.” Was that a stupid thing to say? It wasn’t like they’d talked a lot about school or anything else.
He said only, “Yeah. Hi. Are you okay? You and your family?”
People were staring at them openly: the new girl and Mateo, who was for some unknown reason “bad news.”
“They’re fine,” Nadia said quickly. “Dad cracked a couple ribs, but not too bad. He’s already feeling better. Started work today.” Like he even cared about her father’s job. Words seemed to be coming out of her mouth for no reason.
“Good. That’s good.” Mateo ran one hand through his dark hair, as though he was self-conscious; now that she saw it in daylight, Nadia realized it wasn’t black like hers but the deepest possible brown, just like his eyes. His skin was as tan as hers, maybe even darker. He wasn’t supertall, but a couple inches over her—which was of course perfect—
“So. Okay. I’ll be seeing you.” Nadia started to walk past him, then realized she’d forgotten to mention something. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”
“Nadia,” he said, his voice soft. Something about the sudden light in his eyes told her he’d been wondering about her name for a long while.
He knows me—I wasn’t imagining things—but how is that possible?
Yet he turned away and pushed through the crowded hall, surrounded by whispers that were almost as loud as the slamming locker doors.
She knew she needed to hurry in the opposite direction, but she found herself watching him go all the way down the corridor to the broad doors that led outside, until he pushed them open and was swallowed up in the light.
Mateo walked across the grounds—walked faster—and broke into a run. He had to get away from her, even more for her sake than for his. And yet something in his mind kept repeating the name. Nadia.
“Hey!”
He skidded to a stop only a moment before he would have run into Gage Calloway, who had four inches and about twenty pounds of muscle on Mateo. That would’ve hurt. His brain had obviously checked out. “Sorry.”
“Any particular reason you’re running out of here like the proverbial bat out of hell?” Gage grinned. “Not that I wouldn’t rather be escaping, too, but I figure we gotta graduate to make that work in the long term.”
Kendall, caught up short, stared down at her shoes like she was trying to guess what was wrong with them. They were fine, as far as Nadia could tell, but with fashion, attitude was half the battle. Verlaine’s face lit up; her smile looked uneven, as though she didn’t get much practice.
“Here you go, Miss Bender.” The secretary shuffled out with a manila folder, which Kendall snatched from her hands before stomping out. “And you are?”
“Nadia Caldani. I’m new. You should have my records from Chicago.”
“Oh, yes. We have your schedule—right back here—” The secretary wandered toward the back room, still in no hurry.
“Thanks,” Verlaine whispered. “Kendall was being such a witch.”
Nadia tried to brush aside her momentary annoyance. “I prefer bitch, actually. Most witches are perfectly nice people. Sorry—pet peeve.”
“No worries. About time somebody else with some attitude got here. Captive’s Sound is mostly a graveyard for the living.”
“Wow, you make it sound awesome.”
“I’m exaggerating. Graveyards are more exciting.”
Nadia smiled, but talking to Verlaine felt—weird. She didn’t want to make any friends. After the way everybody had started avoiding her in Chicago—like her bad luck was catching—well, “friendship” obviously didn’t mean what Nadia had always thought it did. And there was just something about Verlaine … something she couldn’t put her finger on....
There was no time to think about that, though. By the time the secretary finally waddled forth with her class schedule, Nadia was already almost late for her first class. She politely waved good-bye to Verlaine, who didn’t really react, only nodded; then she rushed toward what she thought was the right building. Forget the locker—that she could find later, and it wasn’t like she had any of her books yet.
“There he is,” whispered one girl excitedly. “Holy crap, he got even hotter over the summer. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“He’s nice to look at,” said another whisper, “but he’s bad news. You know that.”
“It’s a bunch of crazy gossiping old people. That’s all that is.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, how come you never talk to him, either?”
“Shut up.”
Nadia couldn’t help but turn her head to see who the whispering was about—and her eyes went wide.
Mateo. He was here, in her school—letter jacket on his shoulders, dark hair brushed back, even more gorgeous in the daylight than he’d been in the dark. In those first terrifying moments, she’d assumed he was a couple years older than she was, but apparently he was a student at Rodman, too.
For his part, when their eyes met, he froze in place. It was almost as if the sight of her—scared him.
But that couldn’t be right. He’d saved her from the wreck, which was the single bravest act she’d ever witnessed. Why would he be scared of her?
Nadia said, “Mateo, hi. I didn’t realize you went here.” Was that a stupid thing to say? It wasn’t like they’d talked a lot about school or anything else.
He said only, “Yeah. Hi. Are you okay? You and your family?”
People were staring at them openly: the new girl and Mateo, who was for some unknown reason “bad news.”
“They’re fine,” Nadia said quickly. “Dad cracked a couple ribs, but not too bad. He’s already feeling better. Started work today.” Like he even cared about her father’s job. Words seemed to be coming out of her mouth for no reason.
“Good. That’s good.” Mateo ran one hand through his dark hair, as though he was self-conscious; now that she saw it in daylight, Nadia realized it wasn’t black like hers but the deepest possible brown, just like his eyes. His skin was as tan as hers, maybe even darker. He wasn’t supertall, but a couple inches over her—which was of course perfect—
“So. Okay. I’ll be seeing you.” Nadia started to walk past him, then realized she’d forgotten to mention something. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”
“Nadia,” he said, his voice soft. Something about the sudden light in his eyes told her he’d been wondering about her name for a long while.
He knows me—I wasn’t imagining things—but how is that possible?
Yet he turned away and pushed through the crowded hall, surrounded by whispers that were almost as loud as the slamming locker doors.
She knew she needed to hurry in the opposite direction, but she found herself watching him go all the way down the corridor to the broad doors that led outside, until he pushed them open and was swallowed up in the light.
Mateo walked across the grounds—walked faster—and broke into a run. He had to get away from her, even more for her sake than for his. And yet something in his mind kept repeating the name. Nadia.
“Hey!”
He skidded to a stop only a moment before he would have run into Gage Calloway, who had four inches and about twenty pounds of muscle on Mateo. That would’ve hurt. His brain had obviously checked out. “Sorry.”
“Any particular reason you’re running out of here like the proverbial bat out of hell?” Gage grinned. “Not that I wouldn’t rather be escaping, too, but I figure we gotta graduate to make that work in the long term.”
