Evernight
Claudia Gray

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Acknowledgments

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

THE BURNING ARROW THUDDED INTO THE WALL.

Fire. The old, dry wood of the meetinghouse ignited in an instant. Dark, oily smoke filled the air, scratching my lungs and making me choke. Around me, my new friends cried out in shock before grabbing weapons, preparing to fight for their lives.

This is because of me.

Arrow after arrow sliced through the air, stoking the flames higher. Through the haze of ash, I desperately sought Lucas’s eyes. I knew he would protect me no matter what, but he was in danger, too. If something happened to Lucas while he was trying to rescue me, I could never forgive myself.

Coughing from the soot-thick air, I grabbed Lucas’s hand and ran with him toward the door. But they were ready for us.

Silhouetted against the flames, a dark, forbidding line of figures stood just beyond the edge of the meetinghouse. None of them brandished weapons; they didn’t have to in order to make their threat clear. They had come for me. They had come to punish Lucas for breaking their rules. They had come to kill.

This is all happening because of me. If Lucas dies, it will be my fault.

There was nowhere to go, no place to run. We couldn’t remain here, not with the blaze around us roaring, already so hot that it stung my skin. Soon the ceiling would collapse and crush us all.

Outside, the vampires waited.

Chapter One

IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, WHICH MEANT it was my last chance to escape.

I didn’t have a backpack full of survival gear, a wallet thick with cash that I could use to buy myself a plane ticket somewhere, or a friend waiting for me down the road in a getaway car. Basically, I didn’t have what most sane people would call “a plan.”

But it didn’t matter. There was no way I was going to remain at Evernight Academy.

The muted morning light was still new in the sky as I wriggled into my jeans and grabbed a warm black sweater—this early in the morning, and this high in the hills, even September felt cold. I knotted my long red hair into a makeshift bun and stepped into my hiking boots. It felt important to be very quiet, even though I didn’t have to worry about my parents waking up. They weren’t morning people, to say the least. They’d sleep like the dead until the alarm clock woke them, and that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours.

That would give me a good head start.

Outside my bedroom window, the stone gargoyle glared at me, fangs framing his open grimace. I grabbed my denim jacket and stuck my tongue out at him. “Maybe you like hanging out at the Fortress of the Damned,” I muttered. “You’re welcome to it.”

Before I left, I made my bed. Usually it took a lot of nagging to get me to do that, but I wanted to. I knew I was going to freak my parents out badly enough today, so straightening the covers felt like I was making it up to them a little. Probably they wouldn’t see it that way, but I went ahead. As I plumped up the pillows, I had a sudden strange flash of something I’d dreamed the night before, as vivid and immediate as though I were still dreaming:

A flower the color of blood.

Wind howled through the trees all around me, whipping the branches in every direction. The sky overhead churned, thick with roiling clouds. I brushed my windswept hair from my face. I only wanted to look at the flower.

Each rain-beaded petal was vividly red, slender, and bladelike, the way some tropical orchids are. Yet the flower was lush and full, too, and it clung close to the branch like a rose. The flower was the most exotic, mesmerizing thing I’d ever seen. It had to be mine.

Why did that memory make me shiver? It was only a dream. I took a deep breath and focused. It was time to go.

My messenger bag was ready; I’d loaded it up the night before. Just a few things—a book, sunglasses, and a little cash in case I needed to go all the way to Riverton, which was the closest thing to human civilization in the area. That would keep me occupied for the day.

See, I wasn’t running away. Not for real, where you make a break and assume a new identity and, I don’t know, join the circus or something. No, I was making a statement. Ever since my parents first suggested that we come to Evernight Academy—them as teachers, me as a student—I’d been against it. We’d lived in the same small town my whole life, and I’d attended the same school with the same people since I was five years old. That was just the way I wanted it. There are people who enjoy meeting strangers, who can strike up conversations and make friends quickly, but I’d never been one of those people. Anything but.

It’s funny—when people call you “shy,” they usually smile. Like it’s cute, some funny little habit you’ll grow out of when you’re older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt—really being shy, not just unsure at first—they wouldn’t smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense. It’s not cute at all.

My parents never smiled when they said it. They were smarter than that, and I always felt like they understood, until they decided that age sixteen was the right time for me to get past it somehow. What better starting place than a boarding school—particularly with them along for the ride?

I could see where they were coming from, sort of. Still, that was theory. The first moment we’d come up the drive at Evernight Academy—and I’d seen this huge, hulking, Gothic stone monstrosity—I’d known that there was no way I could possibly go to school here. Mom and Dad hadn’t listened. I would have to make them listen.

On tiptoe, I eased my way through the small faculty apartment my family had shared for the past month. Behind the closed door of my parents’ bedroom, I could hear my mother snoring lightly. I shouldered my bag, slowly turned the doorknob, and started downstairs. We lived at the very top of one of Evernight’s towers, which sounds cooler than it is. This meant I had to make my way down steps that had been carved out of rock more than two centuries ago, long enough to be worn and uneven. The long spiral staircase had few windows and the lights weren’t yet on, making for a dark, difficult trip.

As I reached out for the flower, the hedge rustled. The wind, I thought, but it wasn’t the wind. No, the hedge was growing—growing so quickly that I could see it happening. Vines and brambles pushed from the leaves in a tangled snarl. Before I could run, the hedge had almost surrounded me, walling me in behind sticks and leaves and thorns.

The last thing I needed was to start flashing back to my nightmares. I took a deep breath and kept going downstairs until I reached the great hall on the ground floor. It was a majestic space, built to inspire or at least impress: marble-tiled floor, high arched ceiling, and stained glass windows that stretched from floor to rafter, each in a different kaleidoscope pattern—save one, right in the center, which was clear glass. Set-up for the day’s events must have been completed the night before, because a podium stood ready for the headmistress to greet the students who were arriving later today. Nobody else seemed to be awake yet, which meant that there was no one to stop me. A hard tug opened the heavy, carved outside door, and then I was free.

Early morning fog blanketed the world in bluish-gray as I walked across the grounds. When they built Evernight Academy in the 1700s, this country had been wilderness. Even though small towns now dotted the distant countryside, none of them were very close to Evernight; and despite the hillside views and the thick forests, nobody had ever built a house nearby. Who could blame them for not wanting to be anywhere near that place? I glanced behind me at the school’s tall stone towers, both of them coiled with the twisted forms of gargoyles, and shivered. Within a few more steps, they began to fade into the fog.

Evernight loomed behind me, the stone walls of its high towers the only barrier the thorns couldn’t break. I should have run for the school, but I didn’t. Evernight was more dangerous than the thorns, and, besides, I wasn’t going to leave the flower behind.

My nightmare was starting to feel more real than reality. Uneasy, I turned from the school and started to jog, fleeing the grounds and vanishing into the forest.

It’s all going to be over soon, I told myself as I hurried through the underbrush, fallen pine branches crackling beneath my feet. Even though I was only a few hundred feet from the front door, it felt like much farther; the thick fog made it seem as though I were already deep in the woods. Mom and Dad will wake up and realize that I’m gone. They’ll finally see that I can’t take it, that they can’t make me do this. They’ll come looking for me, and, okay, they’ll be mad that I scared them, but they’ll understand. They always understand in the end, right? And then we’ll leave. We’ll get away from Evernight Academy and never, ever come back.

My heart pounded faster. With every step I took away from Evernight Academy, I felt more afraid, not less. Before, when I’d come up with this scheme, it had seemed like such a good idea. Like it couldn’t fail. Now that it was real, and I was alone in the forest running into a wilderness I didn’t know, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I was running away for nothing. Maybe they’d drag me back there no matter what.

Thunder rumbled. My heart beat faster. I turned away from Evernight for the last time and looked back at the flower as it trembled upon its branch. A single petal was torn away by the wind. Pushing my hands through the thorns, I felt lashes of pain across my skin, but I kept going, determined.

But when my fingertip touched the flower, it instantly darkened, withering and drying as each petal turned black.

I broke into a run, heading east, trying to put some distance between me and Evernight. My nightmare wouldn’t leave me alone: It was that place; it had spooked me, made me scared and hollow. If I got away from there, I’d be okay. Panting, I looked behind me to see how far I’d gone—

And I saw him. A man in the woods, half concealed by the fog, maybe fifty yards from me, wearing a long dark coat. The second I laid eyes on him, he started running after me.

Until that moment, I hadn’t known what fear was. Shock jolted through me, cold as ice water, and I found out just how fast I could really run. I didn’t scream—there was no point, none, because I’d gone off into the woods so nobody could find me, which was the dumbest thing I’d ever done and looked like it would be the last. I hadn’t even brought my cell phone, because there was no service up here. There was no rescue coming. I had to run like hell.

I could hear his footsteps, snapping branches, crunching leaves. He was getting closer. Oh, God, he was fast. How could anybody run that fast?

They taught you how to defend yourself, I thought. You were supposed to know what to do in a situation like this! I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t think. Branches tore at the sleeves of my jacket and snagged the strands of hair that had fallen loose from my bun. I stumbled over a stone, and my teeth sank into my tongue, but I kept running. He was even nearer to me now, too near. I had to go faster. I couldn’t go any faster.

“Unh!” I choked as he tackled me, and we fell. The ground slammed into my back, and his weight pressed down on me, his legs tangled up with mine. His hand closed over my mouth, and I pulled my arm free. At my old school, in the self-defense workshop, they always said to go for the eyes, seriously just poke the guy’s eyes out. I always thought I could do that if I had to, in order to save myself or someone else, but as terrified as I was I wasn’t sure I could stand it. I arched my fingers, trying to screw up my nerve.

At that moment, the guy whispered, “Did you see who was after you?”

For a few seconds, I just stared at him. He lifted his hand from my mouth so I could answer. His body was heavy atop mine, and the world seemed to be spinning. I finally managed to say, “You mean, besides you?”

“Me?” He had no idea what I was talking about. Furtively, he cast a glance behind us, as if on the defensive. “You were running from someone—weren’t you?”

“I was just running. There was nobody after me except you.”

“You mean, you thought—” The guy jerked back from me that second, so that I was free. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—Man, I must have scared you to death.”

“You were trying to help?” I had to say it before I could believe it.

He nodded quickly. His face was still close to mine, too close, blocking out the rest of the world. Nothing seemed to exist except us and the swirling fog. “I know I must’ve freaked you out, and I’m sorry. I really thought—”

His words weren’t helping; I was getting more dizzy, not less. I needed air, quiet, something that I couldn’t think of while he was so close to me. I pointed a finger and said something I’d hardly ever said to anyone in my life, definitely never to a stranger and certainly not to the single most terrifying stranger I’d ever met: “You—just—shut up.”

He shut up.

With a sigh, I let my head flop back upon the ground. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, pressing down so that I saw red. The taste of blood was thick in my mouth, and my heart was still thumping so hard that my ribcage seemed to shake. I could have peed myself, which would have been just about the only way to make this scenario more humiliating than it already was. Instead, I kept taking deep breaths, one after the other, until I felt like I was strong enough to sit up.

When I did, the guy was still there next to me. I managed to ask, “Why did you tackle me?”

“I thought we needed to take cover. To hide from whoever was chasing you, but that turned out to be, uh”—he looked embarrassed—“nobody.”

He ducked his head, and I got a good look at him for the first time. There hadn’t exactly been time for me to notice anything about him before; when your first impression of somebody is “psycho killer,” you don’t take time to analyze the details. Now, though, I could see that he wasn’t a grown man like I’d assumed. Although he was tall and broad shouldered, he was young, maybe about my age. He had straight, golden-brown hair that fell across his forehead, mussed from the chase. His jaw was strong and angular, and he had a solid, muscular body and amazingly dark green eyes.

But the most remarkable thing of all was what he was wearing beneath his long black coat: battered black boots, black wool trousers, and a dark red V-necked sweater emblazoned with a crest—two ravens embroidered on either side of a silver sword. The crest of Evernight.

“You’re a student,” I said, “here at the school.”

“About to be, anyway.” He spoke quietly, as if he were worried about scaring me again. “You?”

I nodded as I shook my tangled hair loose and started to pin it up again. “This is my first year. My parents got jobs as teachers here, so—I’m stuck.”

That seemed to strike him as odd, because he frowned at me, and his green eyes were suddenly searching and unsure. In an instant, though, he had recovered and held out his hand. “Lucas Ross.”

“Oh. Hey.” It felt weird, introducing myself to somebody I’d thought was trying to kill me five minutes before. His hand was broad and cool, and he gripped mine firmly. “I’m Bianca Olivier.”

“Your pulse is racing,” Lucas murmured. He studied my face intently, and I felt nervous again—but in a much better way. “Okay, if you weren’t running from an attacker, why were you running like that? Because that didn’t look like a morning jog to me.”

I would’ve lied if I could have thought of any plausible excuse, but I couldn’t. “I got up early to—well, to try and run away.”

“Your parents treat you bad? Hurt you?”

“No! Nothing like that.” I felt so offended, but I realized that of course that was what Lucas would have to assume. Why else would a totally sane person be running through the woods before the sun was completely up like she was escaping with her life? We’d only just met, so maybe he still counted me as totally sane. I decided not to mention the nightmare flashbacks, because that would probably tip the balance toward crazy. “But I don’t want to go to school here. I liked our hometown, and, besides, Evernight Academy is—it’s so—”

“Spooky as hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Where were you going to go? Do you have a job lined up, something like that?”

My cheeks were flushed, and not just from the exertion of the run. “Um, no. I wasn’t really running away. Just making a statement. Sort of. I thought if I did this, my parents would finally get how much I don’t want to be here, and maybe we could leave.”

Lucas blinked for a second, then started to grin. His smile changed all the weird pent-up energy inside me, transforming it from fear into curiosity, even excitement. “Like me with my slingshot.”

“What?”

“Back when I was five, I thought my mom was being mean to me, so I decided to run away. Carried my slingshot with me because I was a big strong man, you see. Could take care of myself. I believe I also took a flashlight and a packet of Oreos.”

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help smiling. “I think you packed better than I did.”

“I swaggered out of the house where we were staying and took myself all the way to…the far corner of the backyard. There I made my stand. Stayed out there all day, until it started to rain. I hadn’t thought about taking an umbrella.”

“The best laid plans.” I sighed.

“I know. It’s tragic. I came back in, all wet and my stomach aching from eating about twenty Oreos, and my mom—who is a smart lady even if she drives me nuts—well, she acted like nothing had happened.” Lucas shrugged. “Which is what your parents are going to do, too. You know that, right?”

“I do now.” My throat tightened with disappointment. I’d known the truth all along, really. I’d simply had to do something, more to act out my own frustration than to send a message to my parents.

Then Lucas asked a question that astonished me: “Do you want out of here for real?”

“Like—run away? Really run away?”

Lucas nodded, and he looked serious.

He wasn’t, though; he couldn’t be. No doubt he had asked me that to snap me back to reality. I admitted, “No, I don’t. I’ll go back. Get ready for school like a good girl.”

There was that grin again. “Nobody said anything about being a good girl.”

The way he said that made me feel warm and soft inside. “It’s just—Evernight Academy—I don’t think I’ll ever belong there.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Might be a good thing, not belonging there.” He looked at me, serious and intent, like he thought he had another idea about where I might belong. Either this guy really liked me, or I was inventing things in my head because I wanted him to like me. I was much too inexperienced to guess which.

Hurriedly, I pushed myself to my feet. As Lucas stood also, I asked, “So what were you doing? When you saw me?”

“Like I said, I thought you were in trouble. There are some rough characters up in these parts. Not everybody has self-control.” He brushed a few pine needles from his sweater. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. My instincts got the best of me. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, honestly. I realize you were trying to help. I meant, before you saw me. Orientation doesn’t start for another few hours. It’s really early. They told students to arrive around ten A.M.”

“I’ve never been very good at playing by the rules.”

That was interesting. “So—you’re a morning person, getting a jump on the day?”

“Hardly. I haven’t gone to bed yet.” He had a fantastic grin, and I’d already noticed that he knew how to use it. I didn’t mind. “Anyway, my mom couldn’t bring me herself. She’s away, on business, I guess you’d say. I caught the red-eye train in and thought I’d walk up here first. Get the lie of the land. Rescue any damsels in distress.”

When I remembered how fast Lucas had been running after me, and realized that he’d been doing that in an attempt to save my life, the memory changed. The fear was gone, and now it made me smile. “Why did you come to Evernight? I’m stuck here because of my parents, but you could probably have gone someplace else. Someplace better. So, like, anywhere else.”

Lucas honestly didn’t seem to know how to answer. He pushed branches back as we kept walking through the forest, keeping any of them from scraping my face. Nobody had ever cleared a path for me before. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry to go back. Besides, we’ve got a few hours to kill before orientation.”

He lowered his head, but kept his eyes fixed on me. There was something undeniably sexy about that move, though I wasn’t sure he meant it that way. His eyes were almost exactly the same color as the ivy that grew on the towers at Evernight. “It’s also kind of a secret.”

“I can keep a secret. I mean, you’re going to keep this whole incident secret for me, right? With the running and the freaking out—”

“I’ll never tell.” After a couple more seconds of consideration, Lucas finally confessed, “An ancestor of mine tried to go to school here almost a hundred and fifty years ago. He washed out, I guess you’d say.” Lucas laughed, and it felt like the sunlight had broken through the trees. “So it’s up to me to ‘restore the family honor.’”

“That’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to make all your decisions based on what he did or didn’t do.”

“Not all my decisions. They let me pick out my own socks.” I smiled as he tugged up his pants leg to reveal a sliver of argyle sock above his heavy black boot.

“How did your great-grand-whatever wash out?”

Lucas shook his head ruefully. “He got into a duel during his first week.”

“A duel? Like, somebody insulted his honor?” I tried to remember what I’d learned about duels from romance novels and movies. All I knew was that Lucas’s history was definitely a lot more interesting than mine. “Or was it over a girl?”

“He would’ve had to move fast, to meet a girl in the first few days of school.” Lucas paused, as if he were just realizing that it was the first day of school and he’d already met me. I felt this tug, like something was almost physically pulling me to lean toward him—but then Lucas turned his head and glared at the towers of Evernight, just visible through the pine branches. It was as though the building itself had offended him. “Could’ve been anything. Back then, they’d duel at the drop of a hat. Family legend has it that the other guy started it, not that it matters. What does matter is that he survived but not without breaking one of the stained glass windows in the great hall.”

“Of course. There’s one that’s just clear glass, and I never understood why.”

“Now you do. Evernight’s been closed to my family ever since.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he agreed. “And I don’t mind. I think I can learn a lot here. Doesn’t mean I have to like everything about it.”

“I’m not sure I like anything about it,” I confessed. Except you, added the voice in my head, which had turned awfully bold all of a sudden.

Lucas seemed to be able to hear that voice. There was something knowing in the way he gazed back at me. With his chiseled features and school uniform, he should’ve looked like the all-American boy, but he didn’t. During the chase, and in the moments afterward when he’d thought we’d be fighting for our lives, I’d glimpsed something a little wild lurking just beneath the surface. He said, “I like the gargoyles, the mountains, and the fresh air. That’s it so far.”

“You like the gargoyles?”

“I like it when the monsters are smaller than me.”

“Never thought of it that way.” We had reached the edge of the grounds. The sunlight was bright now, and I sensed that the school was waking up, preparing to receive its students, to swallow them through that arched stone doorway. “I’m dreading this.”

“Not too late to run, Bianca,” he said lightly.

“I don’t want to run. I just don’t want to be surrounded by all these strangers. Around people I don’t know, I can never talk or act normal or be myself at all—why are you smiling?”

“Seems like you know how to talk to me.”

I blinked, astonished at myself. Lucas was right. How was that even possible? I stammered, “With you—I guess—I think you scared me so badly that I got all the fear over with right away.”

“Hey, if it works—”

“Yeah.” Already I sensed that there was more to it than that. Strangers still terrified me, but he wasn’t a stranger. He hadn’t been since the first moment I realized that he’d been trying to save my life. I felt as though I’d always known Lucas, as if somehow I’d been waiting years for him to arrive. “I should go back before my parents realize I’m gone.”

“Don’t let them hassle you.”

“They won’t.”

Lucas didn’t seem sure of that, but he nodded as he stepped away from me, edging back into the shadows while I walked into the light. “See you around, then.”

I raised one hand in a farewell wave, but Lucas was already gone. He’d disappeared into the forest in an instant.

Chapter Two

STILL SHAKY WITH ADRENALINE, I WALKED BACK up the long spiral staircase until I reached the top apartment in the tower. This time I didn’t bother being quiet. I slipped my messenger bag off my shoulder and flopped onto the sofa. A few leaves still clung to my hair, so I picked them out.

“Bianca?” My mother emerged from the bedroom, her hands knotting her bathrobe belt. She smiled drowsily at me. “Did you get up early for a walk, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” I sighed. Not much point in trying to make a dramatic scene anymore.

Dad came out next. He hugged Mom from behind. “I can’t believe our little girl is already at Evernight Academy.”

“It all happened so fast.” She sighed. “The older you get, the faster it goes.”

He shook his head. “I know.”

I groaned. They talked like this all the time, and we’d made a game of how much it annoyed me. Mom and Dad only smiled wider.

They look too young to be your parents, everybody in my hometown used to say. What they really meant was too beautiful. Both things were true.

Her hair was the color of caramel; his was a red so dark that it almost looked black. He was average height but muscular and strong; she was petite in every way. Mom’s face was as cool and oval as an antique cameo, while Dad had a square jaw and a nose that looked like he was in a few fights in his youth, but on his face, it worked. Me? I got red hair that could only look red, and skin so pale that it looked more pasty than antique. Everyplace my DNA should have turned right, it swerved left. My parents told me I would grow into my looks, but that’s the kind of thing parents say.

“Let’s get some breakfast into you,” Mom said, heading toward the kitchen. “Or have you already had something?”

“No, not yet.” It wouldn’t have been a bad idea to eat before my big getaway, I realized; my stomach was growling. If Lucas hadn’t stopped me, I’d be wandering around in the woods right now, incredibly hungry and facing a long hike into Riverton. So much for my big escape plans.

The memory of Lucas tackling me, the two of us rolling over into the grass and leaves, flashed through my mind. It had terrified me then, and when I thought of it now I shivered, but it was a completely different kind of feeling.

“Bianca.” My father’s voice sounded stern, and I looked up guiltily. Had he somehow guessed what I’d been thinking about? I realized immediately that I was being paranoid, but there was no mistaking how serious he was as he sat beside me. “I know you’re not looking forward to this, but Evernight is important for you.”

This was the same sort of speech he gave before I had to take cough medicine as a kid. “I really don’t want to have this conversation again right now.”

“Adrian, leave her alone.” Mom handed me a glass before she headed back toward the kitchen, where I could hear something sizzling in a frying pan. “Besides, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for the pre-orientation faculty meeting.”

He looked at the clock and groaned. “Why do they schedule these things so early? It’s not as if anyone could want to be down there at this hour.”

“I know,” she muttered. To them, anytime before noon was too early. Yet they’d worked as schoolteachers my whole life, continuing their long feud with eight A.M.

While I ate breakfast, they got ready, made little jokes that were supposed to cheer me up, and left me alone at the table. That was fine by me. Long after they’d gone downstairs, and the hands of the clock crept closer to orientation time, I remained in my chair. I think I was pretending that, as long as breakfast wasn’t over, there was no way I’d have to go meet all those new people.

The fact that Lucas would be down there—a friendly face, a protector—well, it helped a little. But not much.

Finally, when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I went into my room and changed into the Evernight uniform. I hated the uniform—I’d never had to wear one before—but the worst part was that returning to my bedroom reminded me once again of the strange nightmare I’d had the night before.

Starched white shirt.

Thorns scratching at my skin, lashing me, telling me to turn back.

Red plaid kilt.

Petals curling up and turning black as though they were burning in the heart of a fire.

Gray sweater with the Evernight crest.

Okay, a good time to stop being hopelessly morbid? Right around now.

Determined to act like a normal teenager for at least the first day of the school year, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The uniform didn’t look terrible on me, but it didn’t look great, either. I tugged my hair into a ponytail, picked out a tiny twig I’d missed before, and decided my appearance would have to do.

The gargoyle was still staring, as though he were wondering how anybody could look that dorky. Or maybe he was mocking the total failure of my escape plan. At least I wouldn’t have to look at his ugly stone face any longer. I squared my shoulders and left my room—for the last time, really. From now on, it didn’t belong to me.

I’d been living on campus with my parents for the past month, which had given me time to explore virtually the entire school: the great hall and lecture rooms on the first floor, after which it split into two enormous towers. The guys lived in the north tower, along with some of the faculty and a couple of musty filing rooms that seemed to be where permanent records went to die. The girls were in the south tower, along with the rest of the faculty apartments, including my family’s. The upper floors of the main building, above the great hall, housed the classrooms and the library. Evernight had been expanded and added to over time, so not every section was in the same style or seemed exactly to fit with the rest. There were passageways that twisted and turned and sometimes led nowhere. From my tower room I looked down on the roof, a patchwork of different arches and shingles and styles. So I’d learned my way around; that was the only way in which I felt prepared for what was to come.

I began down the steps again. No matter how many times I made this trip, I always felt as if I might tumble down the rough, uneven steps, over and over, all the way to the bottom. Stupid, I told myself, worrying about nightmares with dying flowers or about falling down the stairs. Something a lot scarier than any of that was waiting for me.

I stepped out of the stairwell into the great hall. Early this morning, it had been hushed, cathedral-like. Now it was packed with people, ringing with voices. Despite the din, it seemed as if my footsteps echoed throughout the room; dozens of faces turned toward me at once. Every single person seemed to be staring at the intruder. I might as well have hung a neon sign around my neck that said NEW KID.

The other students clustered together in circles too tight for a newcomer to enter, their eyes dark and quick as they darted over me. It was as though they could see down into the panicked fluttering of my heart. To me, it seemed that they all looked alike—not in any obvious way but in their shared perfection. Every girl’s hair shone, whether worn down in a cascade past her shoulders or tied back in a prim, sleek bun. Every guy looked self-assured and strong, with smiles that served as masks. Everybody wore the uniform, with the sweaters and skirts and blazers and trousers in all the acceptable variations: gray, red, plaid, black. The raven crest marked them all, and they wore the symbol as though they owned it. Confidence radiated from them, and superiority, and disdain. I could feel the heat leaching from me as I stood on the outskirts of the room, shifting from foot to foot.

Nobody said hello.

The murmuring welled up again within an instant. Apparently gawky new girls weren’t worth more than a few moments of interest. My cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, because obviously I’d already done something wrong, even if I couldn’t guess what. Or did they already sense—as I did—that I didn’t really belong here?

Where’s Lucas? I craned my neck, searching for him in the crowd. Already I felt as though I might be able to face it if Lucas were beside me. Maybe it was crazy to feel like that about a guy I barely knew, but I didn’t care. Lucas had to be here, but I couldn’t find him. In the middle of all these people, I felt completely alone.

As I edged toward a far corner of the room, I began to realize that a few students were in the same situation as I was—or, at least, they were also new. A guy with sandy hair and a beach-bronze tan was so rumpled that he might have slept in his uniform, but being supercasual didn’t win you any points here. He wore a Hawaiian shirt open over his sweater but beneath his blazer, its gaudy cheer almost desperate in Evernight’s gloom. A girl had cut her black hair so short that it was more like a boy’s, but not in a cute, pixie style; it looked more like she’d haphazardly taken a razor to it. Her uniform hung on her, two sizes too big. The crowds seemed to part around her as if repelled by some force. She might as well have been invisible; even before our first class, she had been branded someone who didn’t matter.

How could I be so sure? Because it had just happened to me, too. I was trapped on the edge of the crowd, intimidated by the din, dwarfed by the stone hallway, and as lost as it was possible to be.

“Everyone!”

The voice rang out, instantly shattering the noise into silence. We all turned as one to the far end of the hallway, where Mrs Bethany, the headmistress, had stepped upon the podium.

She was a tall woman, with thick dark hair she wore piled on top of her head, like someone from the Victorian era. I couldn’t begin to guess her age. Her lace-trimmed blouse was gathered at the neck with a golden pin. If you could think of somebody so severe as beautiful, then she was beautiful. I had met her when my parents and I moved into the faculty apartments; she had scared me a little then, but I’d told myself that was because I’d only just met her.

If anything, she was even more imposing now. As I saw her instantly, effortlessly claim command over this roomful of people—the same people who had shut me out by mutual, silent accord before I could even think what to say—I realized for the first time that Mrs Bethany had power. Not just the kind that came with being headmistress but real power, the sort that rises from within.

“Welcome to Evernight.” She held out her hands. Her nails were long and translucent. “Some of you have been with us before. Others will have heard about Evernight Academy for years, perhaps from your families, and wondered if you would ever join our school. And we have other new students this year—the result of a change in our admissions policy. We think it’s time for our students to meet a wider range of people, from more varied backgrounds, to better prepare them for the world outside the school’s walls. Everyone here has much to learn from the other students, and I trust that you will all treat one another with respect.”

She might as well have spray-painted, in giant red letters, SOME OF YOU DON’T REALLY BELONG. The “new admissions” policy was no doubt responsible for surfer boy and shorthaired girl being here; they weren’t intended to be “real” Evernight students at all. They were only supposed to represent a learning experience for the in crowd.

I wasn’t part of the new policy. If it weren’t for my parents, I wouldn’t be here. In other words, I wasn’t even “in” enough to be an outcast.

“At Evernight, we do not treat students as children.” Mrs Bethany didn’t look at any one of us in particular; she seemed to look just over us, a distant kind of gaze that nonetheless took in everything within her field of view. “You have come here to learn how to function as adults in a twenty-first-century world, and that is how you will be expected to behave. That does not mean that Evernight has no rules. Our position in this area requires that we maintain the strictest discipline. We expect much of you.”

She didn’t say what the repercussions would be for failure, but somehow I thought detention would be only the beginning.

My palms felt sweaty. My cheeks were getting flushed, and I probably stood out like a signal flare. I’d promised myself that I’d be strong and that I wouldn’t let the crowd get to me, but so much for promises. The high ceiling and walls of the great hall seemed to be closing in around me. It still felt like I couldn’t quite breathe.

My mother somehow got my attention without waving or calling my name, the way moms can. She and Dad were standing at the far end of the row of faculty, waiting to be introduced, and they both gave me hopeful little smiles. They wanted to see me enjoying myself.

It was their hope that got to me. Having to deal with my fear was hard enough without facing their disappointment.

Mrs Bethany concluded, “Classes will begin tomorrow. For today, get settled into your rooms. Meet new classmates. Learn your way around. We will expect you to be ready. We are glad to have you, and we hope that you will make the most of your time at Evernight.”

Applause filled the room, and Mrs Bethany acknowledged it by smiling slightly and closing her eyes, a slow, satisfied blink like that of a well-fed cat. Then conversation rose up, even louder than before. There was only one person I wanted to talk to; just as well, since it looked like only one person might possibly be interested in talking to me.

I moved all the way around the room, always right at the edges, keeping my back toward the wall. I searched the crowd hungrily, seeking Lucas’s bronze hair, his broad shoulders, those dark green eyes. If I was looking for him, and he was looking for me, we were bound to find each other soon. Despite my fear of large groups, and my tendency to exaggerate them, I knew there were only a couple of hundred students here.

He’ll stand out, I told myself. He’s not like these others, cold and snobby and proud. But I soon realized that wasn’t true. Lucas wasn’t a snob, but he had the same kind of chiseled good looks, the same toned body, and the same, well, perfection. He wouldn’t stand out much in this beautiful crowd; he would be a natural part of it.

Unlike me.

Slowly the crowd shrank, as the teachers left and the students dispersed. I hung around until I was almost the only one left in the great hall. Surely Lucas would come to find me. He knew how scared I was and felt responsible for scaring me worse. Wouldn’t he want to say hello?

But he didn’t. Eventually, I had to accept that I’d missed him. That meant there was nothing left for me to do but go meet my roommate.

Slowly I made my way up the stone steps, my new shoes with their hard soles click-clacking too loudly. I wanted to keep climbing all the way to the top, straight back to my parents’ faculty apartment. If I did, though, I knew that they’d send me downstairs again immediately. Time enough to get my things and really move out after dinner. For now, the first priority was “getting settled.”

I tried to look on the positive side. Maybe my roommate was as freaked-out by school as I was. I remembered the girl with the super-short haircut and hoped it might be her. If I were living with another “outsider,” things would probably be easier all around. It would be torture, living with a stranger—actually having somebody I didn’t know there all the time, even when I slept—but I hoped the feeling would pass eventually. I didn’t dare hope for a friend.

Patrice Deveraux, the form had said. I tried to hang that name on the girl I remembered, but it didn’t quite fit. Still, anything was possible.

I opened the door and realized, heart sinking, that my roommate’s name fit her just fine. She wasn’t another outsider at all. Instead, she was the total embodiment of the Evernight type.

Patrice’s skin was the color of a river at sunrise, the coolest, softest brown, and her curly hair was pulled back into a soft bun, which showed off her pearl earrings and her slim neck. She sat at the dresser, still neatly lining up bottles of nail polish while she looked at me.

“So you’re Bianca,” she said. No handshake, no hug—just the click of each bottle of polish against the dresser: pale pink, coral, melon, white. “You weren’t what I was expecting.”

Thanks tons. “You neither.”

Patrice cocked her head, studying me, and I wondered if we hated each other already. She lifted one perfectly manicured hand and began ticking off points. “You can borrow my perfume but not my jewelry or clothes.” She didn’t say anything about borrowing my stuff, but it was pretty obvious she wouldn’t ever want to. “I plan to do most of my studying in the library, but if you want to work here, let me know and I’ll talk with my friends somewhere else. Help me with the assignments you’re good at, and I’ll do the same for you. I’m sure we can learn a lot from each other. Sound fair?”

“Definitely.”

“All right. We’ll get along.”

If she’d acted all fake friendly with me right away, I think that would have weirded me out more. As it was, I was sort of reassured that Patrice was so businesslike. “Glad you think so,” I said. “I know we’re…different.”

She didn’t argue. “Two teachers here are your parents, right?”

“Yeah. I guess word travels fast.”

“You’ll be fine. They’ll take care of you.”

I tried to smile at her and hoped she was right. “You’ve been here at Evernight before?”

“No. First time.” Patrice said this as though changing her whole way of living was as simple for her as slipping into a new pair of designer shoes. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

I left my opinion of the architecture out of it. “You said you had friends here, though.”

“Well, of course.” Her smile was as delicate as everything else about her, from the peach gloss on her lips to the perfume and nail polish bottles neatly arrayed on the dresser. “Courtney and I met in Switzerland last winter. Vidette was a friend of mine when I was staying in Paris. And Genevieve and I spent a summer together in the Caribbean, once—was it St Thomas? Maybe it was Jamaica. I can’t keep these things straight.”

My pokey hometown seemed duller than ever. “So you guys all just—run in the same circles.”

“More or less.” Belatedly, Patrice seemed to realize how awkward I felt. “Eventually they’ll be your circles, too.”

“I wish I were as sure as you are.”

“Oh, you’ll see.” She dwelled in a world where endless summers in the tropics were everyone’s for the taking. I couldn’t imagine ever being a part of that. “Do you know anybody here? Besides your parents, I mean.”

“Only the people I’ve met this morning.” Meaning Lucas and Patrice, for a grand total of two.

“Plenty of time to make friends.” Patrice spoke briskly as she began putting away more of her things: silky scarves the color of ivory, hosiery in shades of taupe or dove gray. Where did she plan to wear things so elegant? Maybe it was unimaginable for Patrice to travel without them. “I hear Evernight is a wonderful place to meet men.”

“Meet men?”

“Do you already have someone?”

I wanted to tell her about Lucas, but I couldn’t. Whatever had happened between me and Lucas in the forest—it meant something, but my feelings were too new to share. All I said was, “I didn’t leave a boyfriend behind in my hometown.” I’d known all those guys at my old school since I was a little kid, and I remembered them back when they used to play with Lincoln Logs and mash Play-Doh in my hair. That sort of made it impossible to feel passionate about any of them.

“Boyfriend.” Her lips curled upward, as if the word struck her as childish. Patrice wasn’t sneering at me, though. I was simply too young and inexperienced for her to take me seriously.

“Patrice? It’s Courtney.” The girl outside knocked on the door even while she was opening it, obviously certain she would be welcome. She was even more beautiful than Patrice, with blonde hair that fell almost to her waist and the pouty kind of lips I’d seen only on starlets in TV shows, who could afford stuff like collagen. The same kilt that hung awkwardly at my knees made her legs look a thousand miles long. “Oh, your room is much better than mine. I love it!”

The rooms were all pretty much alike, actually—a bedroom large enough for two people, with white, cast-iron beds and carved wooden dressers on each side. The window looked out upon one of the trees that grew closest to Evernight, but I couldn’t think of anything special about it.

Then I realized there was one thing. “We are close to the bathrooms,” I said.

Courtney and Patrice both stared at me as if I’d done something rude. Were they too refined to acknowledge that we needed bathrooms?

Embarrassed, I kept going. “I’ve never, um, shared a bathroom before. I mean, I have with my parents, but not with—what, it’s like, twelve of us sharing each one? That’s going to be crazy in the mornings.”

This was their cue to agree and gripe about it. Instead, Courtney kept studying me, curious. I figured her curiosity was only normal, but I wished she would say something. Her narrow-eyed gaze felt threatening, even more so than most strangers’ did.

“We’re going out in the grounds tonight,” she said—to Patrice, not to me. “To eat. A picnic, you might say.”

Meals at Evernight were meant to be taken in the students’ rooms. Apparently they explained this as “tradition,” the way things were back in ye olden days before anybody had invented the cafeteria. Parents would send care packages to supplement the Spartan grocery allowance delivered each week. This meant I had to learn how to cook using the little microwave my parents had bought me. Patrice obviously didn’t worry about such mundane problems. “Sounds like fun. Don’t you think so, Bianca?”

Courtney shot her a look; apparently that invitation wasn’t meant to be open.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m supposed to eat with my parents. Thanks for asking me, though.”

Courtney’s lush lips could look almost ghoulish when twisted into a smirk. “You still want to hang out with Mommy and Daddy? What, do they feed you with a bottle?”

“Courtney,” Patrice chastised her, but I could tell that she was amused.

“You’ve got to see Gwen’s room.” Courtney began tugging Patrice out the door. “Dark and dreary. She swears it might as well be a dungeon.”

They took off together, and whatever fragile connection Patrice and I had created was broken in an instant. Their laughter echoed throughout the hallway. Cheeks burning, I fled my new room, then the dormitory floor, hurrying upward toward my parents’ apartment and refuge.

To my surprise, they let me in without a fuss. They didn’t even ask why I was early. Instead, Mom gave me a big hug, and Dad said, “Check out our packing job, okay? There are a few things for you to do, but we got you started.”

I was so grateful I could’ve cried. Instead I went to my room, eager for peace and quiet in some safe place.

Only a few pieces of winter clothing still hung in my closet. Everything else had been bundled into Dad’s old leather trunk. A quick check of my overnight bag showed makeup, barrettes, shampoo, and the rest all neatly tucked in. Most of my books would stay here; I had too many for the few shelves in our dorm room. But my favorites had been set out for me to box up: Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, my astronomy texts. The bed had been made, and on one pillow was a packet of things for me to hang up on my walls, like postcards friends had sent over the years and some star maps I’d hung on the walls of our old house. But something new had been hung in this room, an affirmation from my parents that this was still my home, too: a small framed print of Klimt’s The Kiss. I had admired the print in a shop months ago, and apparently they’d bought it as a surprise for me on my first day at the new school.

At first, I was simply grateful for the gift. But then I couldn’t quite stop looking at the picture or shake the thought that somehow I’d never really seen it before.

The Kiss was a favorite of mine. From the days when my mother first showed me her books about art, I’d always loved Klimt. I was in awe of the way he gilded every pane and line, and I liked the prettiness of the pale faces that peeped out from the kaleidoscopic images he created. Now, however, the image had changed for me. I’d never paid as much attention to the way the couple tilted toward each other—the man leaning in from above, as if tugged toward her by some inexorable force. The woman’s head fell back in a swoon, giving in to gravity’s pull. Her lips were dark against the paleness of her skin, flushed with blood. Most beautiful of all, the picture’s shimmering background no longer appeared to be something separate from the man and woman. Now it felt as if it was a rich, warm mist, their love made visible, turning the world around them to gold.

The man’s hair was darker than Lucas’s, but I was trying to imagine him there nonetheless. My cheeks felt warm—blushing again—but this was a different kind of blush.

I jerked back to the here and now; it felt almost as if I’d fallen asleep and begun to dream. Quickly I smoothed my hair and took a couple of deep breaths. I realized I could hear Glenn Miller’s “String of Pearls” on the stereo. Big Band music always meant that Dad was in a good mood.

I couldn’t help but smile. At least one of us liked Evernight Academy.

When I finally finished my packing, it was nearly dinnertime. I went into the living room, where music was still playing, to find Mom and Dad dancing together, being a bit silly with it—Dad pursing his lips, mock sexy, and Mom holding the hem of her black skirt in one hand.

Mom spun around in Dad’s arms, and he dipped her backward. She tilted her head almost to the floor, smiling, and saw me. “Sweetheart, there you are.” She was still upside down as she spoke, but then Dad righted her. “Did you get your packing done?”

“Yeah. Thanks for helping me get started. And thank you for the picture; it’s beautiful.” They smiled at each other, relieved to have made me happy, at least a little bit.

“Quite a feast tonight.” Dad nodded toward the table. “Your mother outdid herself.” Mom didn’t usually cook big meals; tonight was definitely a special occasion. She’d made all my favorites, more than I could ever eat. I realized that I was starving because I’d gone without lunch, and for the first part of the dinner, Mom and Dad had to speak to each other. My appetite kept my mouth too full to talk.

“Mrs Bethany said they’ve finally finished refitting the labs,” Dad said between sips from his glass. “I hope I have a chance to check them out before the students do. Might have some equipment so modern that I don’t know what to do with it.”

“This is why I teach history,” Mom replied. “The past doesn’t change. It just gets longer.”

“Will I have you guys for teachers?” I said through a full mouth.

“Swallow your food.” The Dad command seemed auto-matic. “Wait and see tomorrow, like the others.”

“Oh. Okay.” It wasn’t like him to cut me off that way, and I felt taken aback.

“We can’t get in the habit of giving you too much extra information,” Mom said more gently. “You need to have as much as possible in common with the rest of the students, you know?”

She meant it lightly, but it hit me hard. “Who is it here I’m supposed to have something in common with? The Evernight kids whose families have been coming here for centuries? The outsiders who fit in here even worse than I do? Which group am I supposed to be like?”

Dad sighed. “Bianca, be reasonable. There’s no point in arguing about this again.”

It was past time to let it go, but I couldn’t. “Right, I know. We came here ‘for my own good.’ How is leaving our home and all my friends good for me? Explain that again, because I never quite got it.”

Mom laid her hand over mine. “It’s good for you because you’ve almost never left Arrowwood. Because you rarely even left our neighborhood unless we forced you. And because the handful of friends you made there couldn’t possibly sustain you forever.”

She made sense, and I knew it.

Dad set his glass down. “You have to learn to adapt to changing circumstances, and you have to become more independent. Those are the most important skills your mother and I can teach you. You can’t always stay our little girl, Bianca, no matter how much we might want you to. This is the best way for us to prepare you for the person you’re going to become.”

“Stop pretending that this is all about growing up,” I said. “It’s not, and you know it. This is about what you guys want for me, and you’re determined to get your way whether I like it or not.”

I stood up and walked away from the table. Instead of slinking back to my room for my sweatshirt, I just grabbed Mom’s cardigan from the coat rack and pulled it on over my clothes. Even in early fall, the school grounds were cool after dark.

Mom and Dad didn’t ask where I was going. It was an old house rule: anybody on the verge of getting angry had to take a quick walk, a break from the discussion, then come back and say what they really mean. No matter how upset we were, that walk always helped.

As a matter of fact, I created that rule. Made it up when I was nine. So I didn’t think my maturity was really the issue.

My uneasiness in the world—the sure, complete belief that I didn’t really have a place in it—that wasn’t about being a teenager. It was a part of me, and it always had been. Maybe it always would be.

While I walked across the grounds, I cast a glance around, wondering if I might see Lucas in the forest again. It was a stupid idea—why would he spend all his time outside?—but I felt lonely, so I had to look. He wasn’t there. Looming behind me, Evernight Academy looked more like a castle than a boarding school. You could imagine princesses locked in cells, princes fighting dragons in the shadows, and evil witches guarding the doors with enchantments. I’d never had less use for fairy tales.

The wind changed direction and brought a flicker of sound—laughter from the west, in the direction of the gazebo in the west yard. No doubt those were the “picnickers.” I gathered the cardigan more tightly around me and walked into the woods—not east toward the road, the way I’d run that morning, but instead toward the small lake that lay to the north.

It was too late and too dark to see much, but I liked the wind rustling through the trees, the cool scent of pines, and the owl hooting not so far away. Breathing in and out, I stopped thinking about the picnickers or Evernight or anything else. I could just get lost in the moment.

Then nearby footsteps startled me—Lucas, I thought—but it was Dad, his hands in his pockets, strolling toward the same path I stood on. Of course he could find me. “That owl is close. You’d think we would scare him off.”

“Probably he smells food. He won’t leave if there’s a chance of a meal.”

As if to prove my point, a heavy, swift flapping of wings shook the branches overhead, and then the owl’s dark shape darted to the ground. Terrible squealing revealed that a small mouse or squirrel had just become dinner. The owl swooped away too quickly for us to see. Dad and I only watched. I knew I should admire the owl’s hunting skill, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the mouse.

He said, “If I was harsh in there, I’m sorry. You’re a mature young woman, and I shouldn’t have suggested otherwise.”

“It’s okay. I kinda flew off the handle. I know there’s no point in arguing about coming here, not anymore.”

Dad smiled gently at me. “Bianca, you know that your mother and I didn’t ever think we’d be able to have you.”

“I know.” Please, I thought, not the “miracle baby” speech again.

“When you came into our lives, we dedicated ourselves to you. Maybe too much. And that’s our fault, not yours.”

“Dad, no.” I loved it when it was just our family together, only the three of us in the world. “Don’t talk about it like it’s something bad.”

“I’m not.” He seemed sad, and for the first time I wondered if he didn’t really like this either. “But everything changes, sweetheart. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’m still letting it get to me.” My stomach rumbled, and I wrinkled my nose and asked, hopefully, “Could I reheat my dinner?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that your mother might have already taken care of that.”

She had. For the rest of the evening, we had a good time. I figured I might as well have fun while I could. Tommy Dorsey replaced Glenn Miller, and then Ella Fitzgerald replaced him. We talked and joked about stupid things mostly—movies and TV, all the stuff my parents wouldn’t pay any attention to if it weren’t for me. Once or twice, though, they tried joking about school.

“You’re going to meet some incredible people,” Mom promised.

I shook my head, thinking of Courtney. She was already definitely one of the least incredible people I’d ever met. “You can’t know that.”

“I can and I do.”

“What, you can see the future now?” I teased.

“Honey, you’ve been holding out on me. What else does the soothsayer predict?” Dad asked as he got up to change the records. The man still kept his music collection on vinyl. “This, I want to hear.”

Mom played along, putting her fingertips to her temples like a gypsy fortune-teller. “I think Bianca will meet—boys.”

Lucas’s face flashed in my mind, and my heartbeat quickened within an instant. My parents exchanged looks. Could they hear my pulse pounding all the way across the room? Maybe so.

I tried to make a joke of it. “I hope they’re going to be cute.”

“Not too cute,” Dad interjected, and we all laughed. Mom and Dad really thought it was funny; I was trying to cover the fact that I now had butterflies in my stomach.

It felt weird, not telling them about Lucas. I’d always told them almost everything about my life. Lucas was different, though. Talking about him would break the spell. I wanted him to remain a secret for a while longer. That way, I could keep him for myself.

Already I wanted Lucas to belong only to me.

Chapter Three

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE YOUR UNIFORM TAILORED, did you?” Patrice smoothed her skirt as we prepared for the first day of classes.

Why hadn’t I seen it before? Of course all the real Evernight types had sent their uniforms to a tailor—tucked the blouses here and the kilts there so that they were chic and flattering instead of boxy and asexual. Like mine. “No. I didn’t think of it.”

“You really must remember to do that,” Patrice said. “Individual tailoring makes a world of difference. No woman should neglect it.” I could already tell that she liked giving advice, showing off how worldly and smart she was. This would have annoyed me more if she hadn’t been so obviously right. Sighing, I set back to work, trying to get my hair to lie smooth beneath my headband. Surely I’d see Lucas at some point that day, so I wanted to look my best, or as good as I could look in this stupid uniform.

We picked up our class assignments in an enormous line in the great hall, slips of paper handed out to us, just the way it would’ve been done a hundred years ago. The crowds of students were less rowdy than they would have been back at my old school. Everyone here seemed to understand the routine.

Maybe the quiet was only an illusion. My uneasiness seemed to swallow sound, muffling everything, until I wondered if anybody could even hear me if I screamed.

Patrice remained by my side at first, but only because we shared our first class, which was American History, taught by my mother. She was the only parent I would have for a teacher; instead of Dad’s biology class, I’d be taking chemistry with a Professor Iwerebon. I felt awkward walking next to Patrice with nothing to say, but I didn’t really have any alter-native—until I saw Lucas, the sunlight through the frosted glass in the hallways turning his golden-brown hair to bronze. At first I thought he saw Patrice and me, but he kept on walking without breaking his stride.

I began to smile. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” I said to Patrice, already darting away from her. She shrugged as she looked for other friends to walk with. “Lucas?” I called.

He still didn’t seem to hear me. I didn’t want to yell after him, so I jogged a couple of steps to catch up. He was headed in the opposite direction from me—not in Mom’s class, apparently—but I was willing to run the risk of being late. More loudly, I said, “Lucas!”

He turned his head only enough to glimpse me, then glanced around at the students nearby as though he was worried we would be overheard. “Hey, there.”

Where was my protector from the forest? The guy standing in front of me now didn’t act like he wanted to take care of me; he acted like he didn’t know me. But he didn’t know me, did he? We’d talked once in the woods—when he’d tried to save my life, and I’d repaid him by telling him to shut up. Just because I thought that was the start of something didn’t mean he did.

In fact, it looked like he definitely didn’t. For one second, he turned his head, then gave me a quick wave and a nod—the way you would any random acquaintance. After that, Lucas just kept on walking, until he vanished into the crowd.

There it was—the brush-off. I wondered how I could possibly understand guys even less than I’d thought.

The girls’ restroom on that floor was nearby, so I was able to duck into a stall and collect myself instead of bursting into tears. What had I done wrong? Despite how strange our first meeting had been, Lucas and I had ended up having a conversation that was as intimate as any I’d had with my best friends. I didn’t know a lot about guys, maybe, but I’d been sure that the connection between us was real. I had been wrong. I was alone at Evernight again, and it felt even worse than before.

Finally, once I was steady, I hurried to Mom’s classroom, barely avoiding being tardy. She shot me a look, and I shrugged as I sank into a desk in the back row. Mom quickly snapped out of mother mode into teacher mode.

“So, who here can tell me about the American Revolution?” Mom clasped her hands together, looking expectantly around the room. I slumped down in my seat, even though I knew she wouldn’t call on me first. I just wanted to be sure she understood how I felt about it. A guy sitting next to me raised his hand, rescuing the rest of us. Mom smiled a little. “And you are Mr—”

“More. Balthazar More.”

The first thing to understand about him is that he looked like a guy who could actually carry off the name “Balthazar” without being mocked for all time. On him, it looked good. He seemed confident about anything my mother might throw at him but not in an annoying way like most of the guys in the room. Just confident.

“Well, Mr More, if you were going to sum up the causes of the American Revolution for me, how would you put it?”

“The tax burdens imposed by the English Parliament were the last straw.” He spoke easily, almost lazily. Balthazar was big and broad-shouldered, so much so that he barely fitted into the old-fashioned wooden desk. His posture turned difficulty into grace, as though he’d rather lounge like that than sit up straight any day. “Of course, people were concerned about religious and political freedoms as well.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “So, God and politics are powerful, but as always, money rules the world.” Soft laughter echoed around the room. “Fifty years ago, no American high school teacher would have mentioned the taxes. A hundred years ago, and the entire conversation might’ve been about religion. A hundred and fifty years ago, and the answer would have depended on where you lived. In the North, they’d have taught you about political freedom. In the South, they’d have taught you about economic freedom—which, of course, was impossible without slavery.” Patrice made a rude sound. “Of course, in Great Britain, there were those who would have described the United States of America as a bizarre intellectual experiment that was about to go bust.”

More laughter now, and I realized that Mom already won over the entire class. Even Balthazar was half smiling at her, in a way that almost made me forget about Lucas.

Not really. But he was nice to look at, with his lazy grin.

“And that, more than anything else, is what I want you to understand about history.” Mom pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan as she wrote on the blackboard: Evolving interpretations. “People’s ideas about the past alter just as much as the present does. The scene in the rearview mirror changes every second. To understand history, it’s not enough to know the names and dates and places; a lot of you know all of those already, I’m sure. But you have to understand all the different interpretations that historical events have had over the centuries; that’s the only way to get a perspective that stands the test of time. We’re going to focus a lot of our energy on that this year.”

People leaned forward, opened their notebooks, and looked up at Mom, totally engaged. Then I realized maybe I ought to start taking notes, too. Mom might love me best, but she’d flunk me faster than she would anyone else in her classroom.

The hour flew by, with students asking questions, clearly testing Mom and liking what they found. Their pens scratched out notes faster than I could imagine writing, and more than once, my fingers felt like they would cramp. I hadn’t realized how competitive the students would be. No, that’s not quite right—it was obvious that they were competitive about clothes, and possessions, and romantic interests. That voracity shivered in the air around them. I just hadn’t realized they’d be competitive about schoolwork, too. No matter what it was, at Evernight, every single person wanted to be the best at everything they did.

So, you know, no pressure there.

“Your mother is fantastic,” Patrice gushed as she walked through the hallways after class. “She’s looking at the big picture, you know? Not only her own little window on the world. So few people have that.”

“Yeah. I mean—I’m trying to be like her. Someday.”

Just then, Courtney turned the corner. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail that made her eyebrows arch even more disdainfully. Patrice stiffened; apparently her new acceptance of me didn’t extend as far as defending me in front of Courtney. I braced myself for Courtney’s latest snarky remark. Instead, she sort of smiled at me, and I could tell she thought she was being nicer to me than I deserved. “Party this weekend,” she said. “Saturday. By the lake. One hour after curfew.”

“Sure.” Patrice shrugged just one shoulder, like she couldn’t care less about being invited to what was probably the coolest party at Evernight this fall, at least until the Autumn Ball. Or were formal dances not cool? Mom and Dad had made it sound like the biggest event of the year, but their ideas about Evernight were already suspect.

My curiosity about balls and their coolness or lack thereof had kept me from answering Courtney for myself. She glared at me, clearly annoyed I hadn’t gushed all over her with thanks. “Well?”

If I’d been gutsier, I’d have told her that she was a snob and a bore and that I had better things to do than go to her party. Instead, I only managed to say, “Um, yeah. Great. That’ll be great.”

Patrice nudged me as Courtney sauntered, with her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. “See? I told you. People are going to accept you because you’re—well, you’re their daughter.”

How big a loser do you have to be to coast into high school popularity on your parents? Still, I couldn’t afford to turn my nose up at any acceptance I won, no matter what the reasons were.

“What kind of party is it going to be, though? I mean, in the grounds? At night?”

“You have been to a party before, right?” Sometimes Patrice didn’t sound any nicer than Courtney.

“Of course I have.” I was counting my own birthday parties when I was a kid, but Patrice didn’t have to know that. “I just was wondering if—there wouldn’t be drinking, would there?”

Patrice laughed like I’d said something funny. “Oh, Bianca, grow up.”

She headed off toward the library, and I got the impression that I wasn’t invited to come along. So I walked back to our room alone.

Somehow my parents are cool, I thought. Does it skip a generation?

My parents had said that I would soon settle into a pattern, and that when I did, I’d like Evernight more. Well, after the first week, I knew they were only right about the first half.

Classes were okay, mostly. Mom made one reference to me being her daughter, then said, “Neither Bianca nor I will ever mention this fact again. You shouldn’t either.” Everybody laughed; she had them eating out of the palm of her hand. How did she do that? And why hadn’t she taught me how to do it, too?

Other teachers took some getting used to, and I missed the informality and friendliness of my old school. Here, the professors were imposing and powerful, and it was unthinkable not to meet their high expectations. A lifetime spent hiding from the world in the library had prepared me for the work, and I put more time into my studies than ever. The only class that bothered me was English, because that was the one Mrs Bethany taught. Something about her—just the way she held herself or how she cocked her head before someone answered a question in class—well, she was intimidating.

Still, academics weren’t going to be a problem. That much I’d already figured out. My social life was a different story.

Courtney and the other Evernight types had decided that I wasn’t somebody to despise; my well-liked parents had won me the right to be safely ignored, but that was all. Meanwhile, the “new admissions” kids regarded me with suspicion. I roomed with Patrice, and apparently that was reason enough to assume that I wasn’t going to side against her and her friends. The cliques had formed within a day, and I was caught exactly in the middle.

The only other “outcast” I’d reached out to at all was Raquel Vargas, the girl with the short haircut. One morning we’d griped about the amount of trigonometry homework we had, but that was almost it for social contact. Raquel, I sensed, didn’t make friends easily; she seemed lonely but withdrawn into herself. Not that different from me, really, but somehow even more miserable.

The other students made sure of that.

“Same black sweater, same black pants,” Courtney singsonged one day as she sauntered along, passing near Raquel. “Same stupid bracelet, too. And I bet we see them again tomorrow.”

Raquel shot back, “Not everybody can afford to buy every version of the uniform, you know.”

“No, I guess not,” said Erich, a guy who hung out with Courtney a lot. He had black hair and a thin, pointed face. “Only the people who actually belong here.”

Courtney and all her friends laughed. Raquel’s cheeks flushed dark, but she simply stalked away from them as the laughter got even louder. As she walked past me, our eyes met. I tried to show, without words, that I felt bad for her, but that only seemed to make her angrier. Apparently Raquel didn’t have much use for pity.

I sensed that, if we’d met somewhere else, Raquel and I might have found we had a lot in common. But as bad as I felt for her, I wasn’t sure I needed to spend time with anybody more depressed than I was.

I thought that I wouldn’t have been half as depressed, despite everything, if I’d been able to understand what had happened between me and Lucas.

We were in Professor Iwerebon’s chemistry class together, but sat at opposite ends of the room. Every moment I wasn’t trying to interpret the teacher’s thick Nigerian accent, I was surreptitiously watching Lucas. He didn’t meet my eyes before or after class, and he never spoke to me. The weirdest thing about this was that Lucas wasn’t remotely shy about speaking up to anybody else. He was quick to cut down anybody he thought was being pretentious, snobby, or hurtful—in short, virtually anybody who was the “Evernight type,” at any time at all.

For instance, on the grounds one day, two guys started laughing when a girl—not the Evernight type—dropped her backpack, then half stumbled over it. Lucas, strolling right behind them, said, “That’s ironic.”

“What?” Erich was one of the guys laughing. “That this school lets in total losers now?” The girl who had dropped her bag blushed.

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t be irony,” Lucas pointed out. “Irony is the contrast between what’s said and what happens.”

Erich made a face. “What are you talking about?”

“You laughed at her for stumbling right before you fell flat on your face.”

I couldn’t see exactly how Lucas tripped Erich, but I knew that he’d done it even before Erich went sprawling into the grass. A few people laughed, but most of Courtney’s friends glared at Lucas, like he’d done something wrong by standing up for that girl.

“See, that’s irony,” Lucas said as kept walking.

If I’d had the chance, I would’ve told Lucas that I thought he’d done the right thing, and I wouldn’t have cared if Erich and Courtney and those guys were watching. I didn’t get the chance, though. Lucas moved past me as if I’d become invisible.

Erich hated Lucas. Courtney hated Lucas. Patrice hated Lucas. So far as I could tell, virtually everyone at Evernight Academy hated Lucas, except the goofy surfer-type guy I’d noticed on the first day—and me. Okay, Lucas was kind of a troublemaker, but I thought he was brave and honest, which were qualities more people at the school could stand to share.

Apparently, though, I would have to admire Lucas from a distance. For now, I was still alone.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Patrice crouched upon our windowsill. The night outlined her slender body, graceful even as she prepared to make the leap to the nearest tree branch. “The monitors will be back soon.”

Evernight was policed by hall monitors every night. My parents were the only teachers I hadn’t yet seen lurking in a hallway, waiting to pounce upon any rule breakers. This was good reason to get out while we could, but I kept trying to fix my appearance in the mirror.

“Fix” was the operative word. Patrice looked effortlessly chic in slim slacks and a pale pink sweater that made her skin glow. Me, on the other hand—I was trying to make jeans and a black T-shirt look good. Without much success, I might add.

“Bianca, come on.” Patrice’s patience had run out. “I’m going now. Come with me or don’t.”

“I’m coming.” What did it matter how I looked, anyway? I was only going to this party because I hadn’t had the guts to refuse.

Patrice leaped to the tree branch, then to the ground, her landing as controlled as a gymnast descending from the uneven parallel bars. I managed to follow her, bark scraping my palms. The fear of discovery made me acutely aware of the noises around us: laughter from somebody’s room inside, the first fall leaves rustling on the ground, the hooting of another owl on the hunt.

The night air was cool enough to make me shiver as we ran across the grounds into the woods. Patrice could get through the underbrush without making a sound, a talent I envied. Maybe someday I’d be that coordinated, but it was hard to imagine.

At last we saw the firelight. They’d built a bonfire by the edge of the lake, small enough to avoid attracting attention but big enough to give warmth and cast eerie, flickering light. The students were huddled together, here or there, leaning in to talk in whispers or laugh. I wondered if this was the laughter I’d heard the night of the picnic. Superficially, they looked like any other group of teenagers, hanging out—but there was an energy in the air that heightened my senses, added tension to everyone’s movements and cruelty to most of the smiles. I remembered what I’d thought when I’d met Lucas in the woods during our frightening first encounter; sometimes, when you looked at certain people, you could glimpse something a little bit wild beneath the surface. I felt that wildness here.

Music from somebody’s radio played, trancelike and smooth. I didn’t know the singer; the lyrics weren’t in English. Patrice seemed to vanish into a circle of her friends right away, which left me standing alone, wondering what to do with my hands.

Pockets? No, that looks stupid. Hands on hips? What, like I’m angry about something? No. Okay, even thinking about this is lame.

“Hello there,” Balthazar said. I hadn’t seen him coming up behind me. He wore a black suede blazer and held a bottle in one hand. The firelight painted his face in warm light; he had curly hair, a strong jaw, and a heavy brow. He looked like a tough guy, a bruiser, somebody who would be quicker with a punch than a joke. But his eyes made him approachable and even sexy, because there was intelligence there and humor, too. There was no cruelty in his smile. “Want a beer? There’s still some left.”

“That’s okay.” He had to know I was blushing, even in the dark. “I’m, uh, not legal.”

Not legal? Like anyone here cared about that. I should’ve just painted GEEK on my forehead and saved everybody time.

Balthazar smiled, but not like he was laughing at me. “You know, children used to drink wine at the dinner table with their parents. And doctors used to advise women whose babies didn’t nurse well to feed them a little beer as extra food.”

“That was then, this is now.”

“Fair enough.” He didn’t press me, and I realized that he wasn’t drunk in the slightest. I began to relax. Balthazar had a way of putting people at ease, despite his size and his obvious strength. “I’ve been meaning to say hello to you since the first day.”

“Really?” I hope I didn’t squeak.

“I warn you now, I’m up to no good.” Balthazar must have gotten a good look at the expression on my face, because he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Your mother said she’d taught you before, so I wanted a few hints on how to read her. I need to know my teacher’s secrets, right?”

I decided that Mom wouldn’t mind my telling him. “You want to watch for her bouncing on her heels.”

“Bouncing?”

“Yeah. That usually means she’s excited about something, interested in it, you know? And if she’s interested in it, she thinks you should be, too.”

“Which means it’s going to show up on a test.”

“You got it.”

He laughed again; he had a dimple in his chin that made him seem almost playful. I almost felt disloyal to Lucas, noticing how handsome Balthazar looked, but it was impossible not to. After the way Lucas had ignored me this past week, I wasn’t sure he had a right to my loyalty. Besides, it felt good, having a gorgeous guy paying attention to me.

Balthazar stepped a little closer. “I’m going to be glad we met. I can tell.”

I grinned back at him, and for a whole three seconds it looked like the party was going to be fun. That’s when Courtney showed up. She was wearing a black skirt cut really high, and a white blouse open really low in the front. She wasn’t very curvy, but she made up for it by not wearing a bra, which was now very obvious. “Balthazar. I’m so glad we get to catch up.”

“We’re caught up,” Balthazar seemed even less happy to see her than I was. She didn’t get the picture, or she ignored it.

“Seems like ages since we’ve hung out. Too long. We last saw each other in London, right?”

“St Petersburg,” he corrected her. He could rattle off the city’s name like throwing away a paper cup. Apparently he was bold and worldly enough to cross the oceans without a second thought.

Courtney’s hands smoothed down the front of his blazer, the movement of her fingers outlining his powerful physique. I envied her then—not her starlet looks or her continental travels, but her daring. If I’d been half as brave with Lucas in the woods, been able touch him or use his “good girl” comment as a way to flirt, maybe he wouldn’t act like we were strangers now. Courtney’s voice sliced through my fantasizing. “You’re not really doing anything here, are you, Balthazar?”

“I was talking to Bianca.”

Courtney glanced over her shoulder at me; her long blonde hair hung loose to her waist, and it rippled as she tossed her head. “Do you have something interesting to share, Bianca?”

“I—” What was I supposed to say? Anything would’ve been better than what I did say, which was, “Um, no.”

“Then you don’t mind if we take a few moments, do you?” She started towing Balthazar off without waiting for an answer. He shot me a look, and I knew that if I spoke even one word, he would stop. But I just stood there helplessly and watched them go.

A couple of people giggled. I glanced to one side and saw Erich, and despite the shifting shadows of the firelight, I was pretty sure he was pointing at me.

I slunk away from the fire, meaning only to be someplace out of the way until I could grab Patrice or somebody else who might pass for friendly. But every single step I took away from the others felt good, and before I knew it, I was leaving.

If we hadn’t sneaked out after curfew, I would’ve run straight through the door and up to my room. I remembered my law-breaker status in time, though, and stopped myself. Instead I headed westward to the gazebo on the lawn to pull myself together, then plan my re-entry.

As I made my way up the steps, I saw someone standing there. At first, though, I didn’t recognize who it could be—whoever it was held binoculars in front of his face. When the moonlight highlighted his bronze hair, I knew. “Lucas?”

“Hey there, Bianca.” It took a few seconds for him to lower the binoculars and grin at me. “Nice night for a party.”

I stared at the binoculars. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m spying on the party.” He was almost as abrupt as he had been in the hallway—until he got a good look at my face. I must’ve still looked miserable, because he asked, more gently, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m a loser, but I’m fine.”

Lucas laughed. “I saw you cut out of there in a hurry. Anybody giving you trouble?”

“No. Not really. But the whole thing felt—threatening, I guess. You know how I am with strangers.”

“Good for you. That’s not your scene.”

“No kidding.” I stared at the binoculars. Only somebody with excellent night vision would be able to use them to see anything, though I guessed the bonfire’s light helped. “Why are you spying on the party?”

“Looking to see if anybody gets drunk or careless, or wanders off on his own.”

“What, are you Mrs Bethany’s hall monitor now?”

“Hardly.” Lucas set the binoculars down. He was dressed to blend into the shadows—black trousers and a long-sleeved T-shirt that outlined his muscular arms and chest. He was wirier than Balthazar but more cut, too. There was something almost aggressively masculine about him. “Just wondering what the hell those guys do when they’re not bullying, preening, or sucking up. Seems like they wouldn’t have much time left over for anything else.” He cast me an appraising glance. “You seem to like them well enough.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “You’re always hanging out with that crowd.”

“I’m not! Patrice is my roommate, so I have to spend time with her, and her friends come by all the time, but I can’t really avoid them. I mean, a couple of them are okay, but most of them scare me to death.”

“None of them are okay. You can trust me on that.”

I thought I could’ve made an argument on Balthazar’s behalf, but I didn’t want to talk about Balthazar right now. I also realized that Lucas had put me on the defensive, and he didn’t have the right to do that. “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so cold to me? Why you act like we don’t know each other?”

“If that crew had gotten their claws into you—a sweet girl like you—I didn’t want to have to watch. Not if I couldn’t do anything about it.” The depth of feeling in his voice startled me. We were still a few feet away from each other, but it seemed as though I’d never been closer to anyone. “When I saw you run out of there, I realized you still had a chance.”

“Trust me, I’m not part of that group,” I said. “I think they only asked me to the party to laugh at me. I only went because I—well, I have to know somebody here. You were the only friend I had, and I thought I’d lost you.”

Lucas linked his hands around some of the gazebo’s scrollwork, and I did the same, so that we were side by side. We were both entwined with the scrollwork now, like the ivy. “I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

In a small voice, I admitted, “You kind of did. I mean—I know we only talked once—”

“But it meant something to you.” Our eyes met for only an instant. “It meant something to me, too. I just didn’t realize—Well, I thought it was only me.”

Lucas hadn’t realized I liked him back? I was never, ever going to understand men. “I came up to talk to you on the first day of classes.”

“Yeah, and just before that, you were walking and talking with Patrice Deveraux, who is about as in as they get here. Her kind and my kind—let’s face it, we don’t mix.” His face looked unpleasant for a moment. “You told me you hardly ever spoke to strangers, so I figured you guys must be pretty friendly.”

“She’s my roommate. I kind of have to be able to talk to her to get through the day.”

“Okay, I got it wrong. Sorry.”

There was more to it than that, I sensed. But Lucas seemed to genuinely regret having jumped to conclusions, which was enough for me. My protector had always been watching out for me, even if I hadn’t known. Realizing that gave me a warm feeling, as if a long coat had been thrown over my shoulders to keep me cozy and dry.

The silence between us stretched out, but it wasn’t awkward. Sometimes there are people you can be quiet with, and you never feel the need to fill the gap with meaningless chitchat. I’d only become that close to a couple of people in my hometown, and I’d always thought it took years. Lucas and I were already there.

I remembered Courtney’s daring and decided I could be at least half as bold as she was. Though I’d never been good at making conversation, I’d give it a try. “Do you not get along with your roommate?”

“Vic?” Lucas smiled a little. “He’s pretty good, as roommates go. Oblivious, mostly. Goofy. But he’s an okay guy.”

The word goofy made me think I knew who this was. “Vic is the guy who wears Hawaiian shirts under his blazer sometimes, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“We haven’t talked, but he seems like fun.”

“He is. Maybe we can all hang out sometime.”

My heart pounding, I ventured, “That would be nice, but…I’d rather spend time with you.” Our eyes met, and I felt like I’d crossed some line. Was that a bad thing or a good one?

“We could—but—” Why was Lucas hesitating? “Bianca, I hope we’re friends. I like you. But it’s not a smart idea for you to spend a lot of time with me. You’ve seen that I’m not exactly the most popular guy on campus. I’m not here to make pals.”

“Are you here to make enemies? The way you and Erich fight, sometimes it seems like it.”

“Would you rather I was friendly with Erich?”

Erich was a class-A jerk, and we both knew it. “No, of course not. You’re just kind of, well, confrontational. I mean, do you really hate all these guys so much? I don’t like them, but you—it’s like you can’t even stand the sight of them.”

“I trust my instincts.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. “They’re people you don’t want on your bad side, not if you can help it.”

“Bianca, if you and I—if we—”

If we what? I could think of so many answers to that question, and I liked most of them. Our eyes met, locking so that it seemed impossible to look away. Lucas’s intensity was almost overpowering even when it wasn’t focused on me, and when it was—like now, as he studied every feature of my face, weighed all his words to me before he spoke them aloud—he could take my breath away.

Finally Lucas finished, “I couldn’t stand it if they took it out on you. And eventually they would.”

He was protecting me? That would have been endearing, if it hadn’t been crazy. “You know, I don’t think I have any social cred for you to damage.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

We were quiet together for a while. Moonlight filtered down between the leaves of ivy, and Lucas was close enough that I could recognize his scent—something that reminded me of cedar and pine, like the woods that surrounded us, as if he were somehow a part of this dark place.

“I’ve kinda messed things up, haven’t I?” Lucas sounded almost as bashful as I felt. “I’m not used to this.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Talking to girls?” Looking the way Lucas did, I doubted that.

However, there was no mistaking his sincerity when he nodded. The devilish glint had faded from his eyes. “I’ve spent a lot of years moving around. Traveling from place to place. Anybody I cared about—it seemed like they were gone too soon. I guess I learned to keep people at a distance.”

“You made me feel like I’d been stupid to trust you.”

“Don’t feel that way. This is my problem. I’d hate for it to be yours.”

My whole life had been spent in a small town, and I’d always thought that made me worse at meeting strangers. But now that Lucas said it, I could see that a peripatetic existence might have the same effect: isolate you, turn your thoughts inward, so that reaching out to others was the hardest thing in the world.

So perhaps his anger was a lot like my shyness. It was a sign that we were each lonely. Maybe we didn’t have to stay lonely too much longer.

Quietly, I said, “Aren’t you tired of running and hiding? I know I am.”

“I don’t run and hide,” Lucas retorted. Then he was silent for a second, considering. “Well, damn.”

“I could be wrong.”

“You’re not.” Lucas watched me for a while longer, and just when I was starting to feel like I’d been too open, he said, “I shouldn’t do this.”

“This?” My heart began to thump a little faster.

Lucas just shook his head and grinned. The devilish look was back. “When it gets complicated later on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Maybe I’m the complicated one.”

He smiled even more broadly. “I can see it’s going to take us a while to settle this.” I loved it when he smiled at me that way, and I hoped we’d hang out at the gazebo for hours. But at that moment, Lucas cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” But then I did hear it: the faraway sound of the school’s front door opening repeatedly and footsteps on the front walk. “They’re coming out to bust the party!”

“Sucks to be Courtney,” Lucas said. “And it gives us a chance to get back inside.”

We ran across the grounds, listening to the sounds of the party being broken up, and gave each other big smiles as we sailed through the front door, home free.

“See you soon,” Lucas whispered as he let my arm go and headed toward his hall. And as I ran back to my own room and my own bed, that one word kept ringing in my ears: soon.

Chapter Four

I REACHED MY ROOM JUST IN TIME TO JUMP under the covers before Patrice walked in, accompanied by Mrs Bethany. Pale light from the hallway outlined the headmistress, so that all I could see was her silhouette.

“You know why we have rules here, Patrice.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking that she was serious. It was more than a little intimidating, and I wasn’t even the one she was scolding. “You should understand that those rules need to be obeyed. We can’t go running across the countryside at night. People would talk. Students would lose control. The result could be tragedy. Am I clear?”

Patrice nodded, and then the door swung shut. I sat up in bed and whispered, “Was it awful?”

“No, just a mess,” Patrice grumbled as she started stripping off her clothes. We’d been changing in the same room together for more than a week now, but I was still kind of embarrassed by it. She wasn’t. Even as she yanked off her shirt, she was staring at me. “You’re still dressed!”

“Um, yeah.”

“I thought you left the party early.”

“I did. But I—I couldn’t get back into the school right away. They were patrolling. Then they realized where you guys were and took off. I only got in here about three minutes before you did.”

Patrice shrugged as she reached for her nightshirt. I did my best to get changed without turning away from my corner. The conversation was over, and I’d successfully lied to my roommate for the first time.

Maybe I should’ve told Patrice why I was late. Most girls would probably be bubbling over to tell everyone all about the gorgeous guy they’d just made a connection with. But I liked the secret. That made it more special, somehow, the fact that only I knew. Lucas likes me, and I like him back. I think maybe, soon, we’re going to be together.

That last thought was probably taking it a little far, I decided as I slid beneath the blankets again. All the same, I couldn’t help myself. My mind was racing too fast for me to sleep, and I smiled against my pillowcase.

He’s mine.

“Heard there was quite a party last night,” Dad said, as he placed a hamburger and fries in front of me at my family’s table.

“Mmm-hmmm,” I answered through a mouthful of fries. Then I caught myself and mumbled, “I mean, that’s what I heard, too.”

Mom and Dad traded looks, and I got the impression that they were more amused than ticked off. That was a relief.

This was the first of what would be our weekly Sunday dinners. Every second I could be back with my family in the faculty apartment instead of surrounded by Evernight kids was good with me. Even though they were trying to act all casual about it, I could tell that my parents had missed me almost as much as I’d missed them. Duke Ellington was on the stereo, and despite the parental interrogation, everything was again right with the world.

“Things didn’t get out of hand, did they?” Mom had apparently decided to ignore the fact that I’d denied being there. “From what I heard, it was mostly beer and music.”

“Not that I know of.” It wasn’t really a denial; I mean, I did only attend the party for about fifteen minutes.

Dad shook his head and said to Mom, “It doesn’t matter if it was just beer. The rules have to be obeyed, Celia. I don’t worry about Bianca, but some of the others—”

“I’m not against rules. But it’s natural for the older students to rebel against them occasionally. Better to have a few minor slipups from time to time than some major incident.” Mom turned her attention back to me. “What’s your favorite class so far?”

“Yours, of course.” I gave her a look, asking if she really thought I was silly enough to answer any other way, and she laughed.

“Besides mine.” Mom put her chin in her hand, ignoring the entire elbows-on-the-table rule. “English, maybe? You’ve always loved that most.”

“Not with Mrs Bethany.”

This didn’t earn me any sympathy. “Listen to her.” Dad was stern, and he set his glass down on the old oak table too hard, with a thunk. “She’s someone that you need to take seriously.”

I thought: Stupid, she’s their boss. What would happen if word got around that their kid was bad-mouthing the headmistress? Think about somebody beside yourself for a change.

“I’ll try harder,” I promised.

“I know you will.” Mom covered my hand with her own.

On Monday, I went into English class determined to make a fresh start. We had recently started mythology and folklore, both subjects I’d always enjoyed. Surely if I could prove myself to Mrs Bethany in any area, it would be that.

Well, apparently I couldn’t prove myself to Mrs Bethany.

“I expect that relatively few of you will have read our next assignment,” she said, as a stack of paperbacks made its way around the room. Mrs Bethany always smelled slightly of lavender—feminine, yet sharp. “However, I imagine that virtually all of you have heard of it.”

The paperbacks reached my desk, and I took a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. From the next row of desks, I heard Raquel mutter, “Vampires?”

As soon as she’d said it, a weird sort of electricity seemed to crackle through the room. Mrs Bethany pounced. “Do you have a problem with the assignment, Miss Vargas?”

Her eyes glittered as she fixed her birdlike gaze on Raquel, who looked like she would have gladly bitten off her tongue to have kept from saying anything. Already her one uniform sweater had begun to pill and look worn around the elbows. “No, ma’am.”

“It sounded as though you did. Please, Miss Vargas, enlighten us.” Mrs Bethany folded her arms in front of her chest, amused by whatever joke she was playing. Her fingernails were thick and strangely grooved. “If Norse sagas about giant monsters strike you as worthy of your notice, why not novels about vampires?”

Whatever Raquel said would be wrong. She’d try to answer, and Mrs Bethany would shoot her down no matter what, and we could go on like that for most of the class. That was the way Mrs Bethany had amused herself during every class period so far, finding someone to torment, usually for the amusement of the students whose powerful families she obviously preferred. The smart thing to do would’ve been for me to shut up and let Raquel be Mrs Bethany’s whipping boy for the day, but I couldn’t stand watching it.

Tentatively, I raised my hand. Mrs Bethany barely glanced at me. “Yes, Miss Olivier?”

“Dracula’s not a very good book, though, is it?” Everyone stared at me, shocked that somebody else had contradicted Mrs Bethany. “It has such flowery language, and all those letters within letters.”

“I see that someone disapproves of the epistolary form that so many distinguished authors employed during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.” The click-click of Mrs Bethany’s shoes on the tile floor seemed unnaturally loud as she walked toward me, Raquel forgotten. The scent of lavender grew stronger. “Do you find it antiquated? Out of date?”

Why did I ever raise my hand? “It just isn’t a very fastmoving book. That’s all.”

“Speed is, of course, the standard by which all literature is to be judged.” A few snickers around the room made me squirm in my seat. “Perhaps you want your classmates to wonder why anyone would ever study this?”

“We’re studying folklore,” Courtney interjected. She wasn’t rescuing me, just showing off. I wondered if that was to put me down or get Balthazar to look at her. For days she’d been making sure her kilt showed off her legs to their best advantage every time she sat down, but so far he seemed unmoved. “One common element in folklore around the world is the vampire.”

Mrs Bethany simply nodded at Courtney. “In modern Western culture no vampire myth is more famous than that of Dracula. Where better to begin?”

I surprised everyone, including myself, by saying, “The Turn of the Screw.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs Bethany raised her eyebrows. Nobody in the room seemed to understand what I was getting at—except Balthazar, who was obviously biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“The Turn of the Screw. The Henry James novella about ghosts, at least maybe about ghosts.” I wasn’t going to start the old debate about whether or not the main character was insane. I’d always found ghosts really scary, but they were easier to face in fiction than Mrs Bethany was in the flesh. “Ghosts are even more universal in folklore than vampires. And Henry James is a better writer than Bram Stoker.”

“When you are designing the class, Miss Olivier, you may begin with ghosts.” My teacher’s voice could have cut glass. I had to suppress a shiver as she stood over me, more stonefaced than any gargoyle. “Here, we will begin by studying vampires. We will learn how differently vampires have been perceived by different cultures over the ages, from the distant past until today. If you find it dull, take heart. We’ll get to ghosts soon enough even for you.”

After that, I knew to shut up and stay quiet.

In the hallway after class, tremulous with that strange weakness that always follows humiliation, I walked slowly through the throng of students. It seemed as if everyone was laughing with a friend except me. Raquel and I might have consoled each other, but she had already skulked away.

Then I heard someone say, “Another Henry James reader.”

I turned to see Balthazar, who had fallen into step at my side. Maybe he was there to offer support; maybe he was just trying to avoid Courtney. Either way, I was grateful to see a friendly face. “Well, I’ve read The Turn of the Screw and Daisy Miller. That’s about it.”

“Try Portrait of a Lady sometime. I think you would like that one.”

“Really? Why?” I assumed that Balthazar would say something about how good the book was, but he surprised me.

“It’s about a woman who wants to define herself, instead of letting other people define her.” He navigated easily through the crowd without ever taking his eyes from me. The only other guy who had ever looked at me so intently was Lucas. “I had a hunch that you might respond to that.”

“You might be right,” I said. “I’ll check it out of the library. And—thanks. For the recommendation.” And, I thought, for thinking of me that way.

“You’re welcome.” Balthazar grinned, showing off the dimple in his chin again, but then we both heard Courtney’s laugh, not far away. He gave me a mock-scared look that made me laugh. “Gotta run.”

“Hurry!” I whispered as he dodged down the nearest hallway. Although Balthazar’s encouragement had helped, I still felt wrung out after Mrs Bethany’s interrogation. I decided to take a quick walk on the grounds for some fresh air and quiet before I ate. Maybe I could have a few precious minutes alone.

Unfortunately, I was far from the only one with the same idea. Several students were milling around outside, playing music and talking. I noticed a group of girls sitting in the shade, none of them apparently headed back to their rooms for lunch. Probably they were dieting for the Autumn Ball, I decided as I watched them whispering together in the shadows cast by one of the old elm trees.

There was only one person in the grounds I wanted to see. I recognized him from the first day, and Lucas’s description. “Vic?” I called.

Vic grinned at me. “Yo!”

You’d have thought we were old friends, instead of speaking for the first time. His floppy, sandy-brown hair stuck out from the sides of the Phillies cap he wore, and he carried an iPod emblazoned with a skin swirled with orange and green. As he loped to my side and tugged out his earbuds, I said, “Hey. Have you seen Lucas?”

“That guy, he’s crazy.” In Vic’s world, crazy seemed to be a compliment. “He cut out of study hall, and I was, like, what are you doing? And he was all, just cover for me, right? So I did, until now, but you’re not gonna nark on him. You’re cool.”

Since Vic and I had never even spoken before, how could he know I was cool? Then I wondered if Lucas told him, and that made me smile. “Do you know where he is?”

“If a teacher asks me, I don’t know anything. Since it’s you, I think it might have to do with the carriage house.”

The carriage house to the north, near the lake, had been where they’d kept the horses and buggies back in the old days. Now it had been remade into Evernight Academy’s administrative offices and Mrs Bethany’s residence. What would Lucas be doing there?

“I think I’ll take a stroll over that way,” I suggested. “Just going for a walk. Not doing anything in particular.”

“Ohhhh, riiiiiiiight,” Vic said, nodding his head, like I’d actually said something really sly. “You got it.”

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