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  David stole his gaze away, head turning before his eyes left mine, and as he shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders lifting a little, I got the sense that he was maybe a bit of a shy guy.

  I felt like a pervert then, and a bit nasty, because I’d made assumptions about him in the nanoseconds after we met, and a lot of them regarded him as nothing more than a dangerous slab of hunky meat, ripe for ogling. If he were a woman and I were a man, he’d have slapped me.

  “Ara’s a little worried about coming to a new class,” Mr. Benson explained. “Would you take her to the library and fill her in on last week’s lessons, please?”

  A sudden wash of relief brought my body back to life. I wouldn’t have to go into that class of staring strangers after all! I wanted to hug Mr. Benson for being so considerate.

  “Of course.” David smiled at me again, the sound of his voice running through me like milk for my soul—liquid with maturity, yet deep and heavy and simultaneously weightless.

  “Excellent.” Mr. Benson went to walk away but stopped. “And keep your charms to yourself, young man.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” David said, looking right at me with those smiling green eyes.

  And that was it. My cheeks exploded with heat, sending it to my ears. I looked down at my feet, biting a spreading grin.

  “Okay. Well, Ara, you take care, and I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” Mr. Benson patted my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking him directly in the eye this time.

  “You are more than welcome.” He turned to face the boy. “David, you can get your stuff.”

  For a split second, as David and Mr. Benson walked away, I braved a glance into the room of dread, seeing only a desk and a whiteboard. It all looked normal enough. I’d imagined fiery pits and wailing souls. Guess I was wrong.

  Emily squeaked, waving two handfuls of spirit-fingers. “Oh my God. You’re so lucky.”

  “Lucky? I have to spend forty minutes alone with that guy.” I pointed into the class.

  “Trust me, Ara. You’re going to love David.”

  That’s what worried me: that I’d like him, but all he’d see in me is my scars. “He’s not that cute,” I said, but the lie showed in my tone, shouting to the world that I was as pathetic as Emily.

  She patted my shoulder. “It’s okay to like him, you know. We’re only human.”

  Yes. But I was a very flawed one in more than just the physical ways. Despite that, I had to ask, “Does he have a girlfriend?”

  Emily leaned closer. “He—”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Benson.” David’s smooth voice filled the hallway a second before he stepped out of the classroom, carrying his bag and a stack of books.

  Emily straightened up, poorly masking her conspicuous smile.

  “Everything all right, Emily?” he asked, clearly catching on that we’d been talking about him.

  “Mm-hm.”

  He looked at me then, and studied my face with slightly narrowed eyes. I felt myself shrink; felt my scars burn and become more obvious. But he wasn’t even looking at them.

  “You ready, new girl?”

  I managed to nod. Somehow, staying with Mr. Benson seemed less unnerving.

  “Don’t worry.” Emily touched my arm. “David will take good care of you.”

  “You’re late for class, Emily,” he said in a dull and sort of authoritative tone.

  “Okay, well. Have fun, Ara. And… I’ll see you at lunch?” she asked, her eyes round, hopeful.

  Terrific, I’d just made a new friend without even trying. Which would be great if I hadn’t decided to avoid doing just that. “Um… yeah, I’ll see you at lunch.”

  She skipped off, but stopped to fan her chin, mouthing what looked like “He’s so hot”, right as David turned to catch her. Quickly pressing her hands behind her back, Emily disappeared around the corner, leaving David and I completely alone.

  My heart pumped blood the wrong way around my body, and the beat bounced off every wall in the school—a suspenseful soundtrack to a gripping scene. I forced myself to look up from my shoes so I wouldn’t seem like an immature twat. And though I sat for hours last night scripting topics for just this sort of occasion, when I met David’s gaze, all I could find was a white cloud of wordless stupor. I was without ammunition, alone in the wilderness with a lion.

  “The library is this way.” He started walking.

  I stayed put, safe and snug against the wall where I couldn’t trip on my own nerves. He didn’t even notice I stayed behind, just walked ahead without me. Or maybe he did notice but chose to ignore it, figuring I’d eventually move. And yet, staying behind gave me a great vantage point. I could see the definition down his back through that black shirt; could see the marvelous contours of his arms and how his torso seemed to taper inward at the waist from his shoulders, despite his otherwise slender form. I’d seen that kind of physique on guys in the football teams back home. Which made me wonder if David was on the team. If so, he disguised that stereotypical arrogance really well under the facade of a kind, well-mannered guy.

  “Are you coming?” he asked, walking backward.

  “Um, yeah. Sorry.” I pushed away from the wall and started after him, grinning to myself when he turned away. I always knew the world was unnaturally cruel, and today, I learned it could also be cruel in an unbelievably giving way.

  * * *

  David didn’t utter a word as we walked the halls. I didn’t know if I should—or could—say something to break the silence, which made it mutate into the uncomfortable sort. And to make matters worse, his self-satisfied grin made me feel almost like he could hear every deranged, lustful thought I was having.

  I rocked my jaw, searching deep inside for that level-headed girl in me who didn’t get pummeled by a cute face. She was dead though. David stomped her out with one sweep of his careless hair, and a flash of that gorgeous grin.

  “What were you reading in your last school—for English class?” he asked in a buttery voice, like, if I could swallow it in one gulp, it wouldn’t even touch the sides of my throat.

  “The standard stuff,” I murmured. “I wasn’t in any advanced classes or anything.”

  He nodded. “Do you read much?”

  “Not anymore.”

  He looked down at his feet.

  I felt bad for that answer. It was probably a little vague, maybe even rude. It’s just that… I wanted him to keep talking, but… not ask any questions.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Why not what?”

  He cleared his throat, that private grin slipping into place. “Why don’t you read anymore?”

  “Um, no reason. What do you like to read?”

  David seemed a little thrown off by the question. “Uh… Dracula, anything by Stephen King, Pride and Prejudice. I actually read quite a bit. Though, not so much anymore, myself.”

  “Why not?” I asked, curious about his reasons. Also curious as to why a guy his age would admit to reading Pride and Prejudice of his own free will.

  “Well, let’s just say”—he leaned against the wall near a brown door—“I have better things to do with my time at the moment.”

  “Er, yeah, me too,” I said quickly.

  He laughed and stood from his lean, patting the door. “So, this is the library.”

  “Really?” It sat inconspicuously in the long wall of the first floor corridor, rather oddly-placed for such an important room. If David wasn’t with me, I might’ve passed it.

  “Don’t let looks deceive you. It’s actually quite well stocked,” he said, opening the door.

  We stepped inside and ceiling-high shelves of books greeted us with the rich smell of old pages. A group of study desks marked the center of the brightly lit space, while computers lined the back wall. It seemed the school made up in supplies for what it lacked in style.

  “They fit a lot into a small room, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” my unfairly gorgeous guid
e said simply, standing motionless beside me. “Would you like a seat?”

  I wanted to ask if he meant I could take one home with me to keep, but was afraid the corniness might show me up for the dweeb I really was. So I started off with a determined stride and, using my ankle, kicked a chair out at the circle of study desks. The lone student beside me didn’t bother to look up as I dumped my bag down. Or he most likely didn’t hear me approach, since the music coming from his earphones could be heard in London.

  “Are we allowed to have music in here?” I asked, looking up to meet David’s stare.

  He made no effort to look away, smiling before saying, “Yes.”

  My pulse quickened at that gorgeous grin. He just looked so pleased with himself for something, or like he was in on some joke that I wasn’t getting.

  “We weren’t allowed at my old school.” I looked back at the kid for a second. “Private school.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “No. I’m just good at summing people up.”

  “Hm, me too.”

  “Then we should get along great.” He dropped the grin and placed a heavy rectangle book on the table in front of me, tapping it twice. “This one’s for you.”

  I grimaced at the book. The pages were thin and the cover was hard, which could only mean boring.

  “You know,” David said, dumping his bag as he sat down, “you’re awfully quiet. I expected you to say more by now.”

  “We’re in a library,” I whispered.

  He laughed once, motioning around the room. “No one cares if you talk.”

  He was right. The room was pretty much empty—of people. There was no reception desk, and no gray-haired woman with large-rimmed glasses shushing us when we breathed. “Cool.”

  “Yeah.” David sat back. “It’s pretty cool.”

  I looked away from him, finally calm enough to act human, and opened the giant book. “What page?”

  “You know”—he inclined toward me, his voice low in a husky whisper—“it’s your first day, so we can either fill you in on Mr. Benson’s lessons, or…” He paused, looking at the student near us.

  “I already prefer the or,” I said, leaning on my hand, and the second that creepy sentence left my lips, I wanted to die.

  David leaned back in his chair again, crossing his hands behind his head, the smooth musk of his deodorant stronger now, making me inhale a little deeper. “You know, I think I’m beginning to like you already, Ara-Rose.”

  I wanted to beam at his words, but as much as I liked David, I needed a boy to distract me like I needed a hole in the head. “It’s just Ara, by the way,” I said, kind of wondering why he called me that, considering Mr. B introduced me as “Ara”.

  “Okay, Ara.” He looked me over with one slightly narrowed eye, folding his arms. “What’s your next class?”

  “Uh, hold on a sec.” I pulled out the schedule and map then passed them to David, who read the page, wearing an impish grin. “What?”

  “We have quite a few classes together.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Including music.” He cleared his throat into his fist.

  “Is that… bad?” All the blood ran from my face as he handed the schedule back.

  He shook his head. “I mean, not all bad. We have Mr. Grant, but I’m in your class.”

  “Is he nice?” I kind of expected a two-headed monster, judging from the smirk on David’s face.

  “It’s okay, I’ll be there with you.”

  I folded my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “He doesn’t stay in the room long,” David added. “Mr. Grant. He comes in, tells us what to do, and leaves.”

  “And then what?”

  “We usually just have a jam session.”

  “Wicked.” I shut the textbook in front of me, finding my cool again. “So… what instrument do you play?” I could sum up a lot about a person by the kind of music they liked and by the instrument they chose to express that love with.

  David drummed his fingers on the desk, his smiling eyes small with thought. “Well, I actually play all instruments. But this year, I’m focusing on the guitar.”

  Damn. Well, that blew my prejudice out the window. “Guitar, eh? I would’ve figured you for a bass guy.”

  “Bass? And… what exactly would that say about me?”

  “Cool? Confident?” A soft breath left my lips before I added, “Sexy?” And though, on the outside, I shrugged as I said it, every ounce of cool I’d mustered stopped moving and groaned, slapping its head. That was such a loser thing to say!

  David stared at me for a second, his lip twitching as if stuck on a word.

  “I’m sorry. That was so creepy.” I covered my brow.

  “No, it wasn’t at all. It was just…” He stared forward, frowning. “Unexpected.”

  I looked down at my book, unsure what to say.

  “You just seem so shy and quiet now. I never expected you to say something so… honest.”

  “I’m not really shy.” I traced the edge of the book. “I’m just quiet because I’m new. But you won’t be able to shut me up in a few weeks.” I laughed, but stifled it quickly. As if that would be reassuring. And I was off again with the assumptions. Who said this guy would even talk to me after today? He was only here because the teacher forced him to bring me up to speed. I kind of felt sorry for him now.

  He suppressed a smile, nodding softly. “Well, I look forward to seeing your more talkative side.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him. “You’re under no obligations to befriend me, you know, just because the teacher told you to babysit me.”

  “Who says I feel obligated?” he said. “Perhaps I have a mind of my own.”

  Was he serious? I was so clearly infatuated with this guy, and yet he wasn’t jumping at the easy-out I just gave him! At this point, it wasn’t just my own sanity I was questioning.

  When David laughed suddenly, I glared at him with curious eyes.

  “What?” I asked, hoping my facial expressions hadn’t given away my strange internal monologue. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Normally, people don’t laugh at nothing.”

  “Maybe I’m not normal.”

  “Hm.” I nodded to myself, and since there was no rock to hide under in here, I covered the awkward tension with a very normal question that I was rather proud of. “So, are the people here nice?”

  David nodded, taking a deep breath as if to dispel his own nervous tension. “Yeah, mostly. You shouldn’t have a problem, though. Seems you’ve struck up a friendship with Emily Pierce?”

  “Is that good?” I hoped it was. Emily seemed nice, but I’d hate to have ended up friends with the school bully.

  “Um, yes.” He cleared his throat, looking away. “It’s good. Emily has… a special gift for making people like her.”

  “So you like her?”

  “She’s just easy to be around. I think you two will be good friends.”

  Did that mean I was easy to be around? And there it was again: the crazy in me looking for hidden meanings in words that weren’t there.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine here, Ara. You’ve already made two friends today, and school has only just begun.”

  That was nice of him, I thought. It felt so weird that only half an hour ago I was terrified to even step off the driveway, and now I was here, alone with David, and he just called himself my friend—completely tarnishing all my first impressions about this once seemingly nightmarish brown building.

  “Well, thanks.” I shrugged passively, hiding my smile. It was a strange sensation, but for the first time in over two months, I just smiled because I wanted to.

  2

  “Dave, too cool for the team jacket this year?” a bold voice called as we walked through the corridor. “Didn’t get your name on the list.”

  David jolted forward a little with the affectionate slap on his shoul
der. “I’m skippin’ out this year, man.”

  The guy stopped, spreading his arms out wide in confusion. “Dude. Why?”

  “Tell ya later.”

  “Okay, later, bro.” He nodded and kept walking, giving some brotherhood click of his fingers that David copied.

  “Are you on the football team?” I asked.

  “Not anymore,” he said in short, cutting off eye contact as we weaved through the oncoming traffic.

  I took his lack of elaboration as a giant ‘None of your business’. So, with my nose tilted slightly to the roof to take in the dim lighting and rich burgundy color of the walls, I walked in silence for a while, ducking and dodging the odd stare here and there. “Why is this area so different to the rest of the school?”

  “They hold concerts open to the public in that room at the end.” He pointed past the trophy cases to a set of heavy-looking double doors. “Guess they wanted to give the illusion of grandeur.”

  “And parade the victories of their student body?” I nodded to the over-stuffed trophy cases as we passed them.

  “Yeah. Mr. Grant’s a bit of an exhibitionist. We tour around and enter just about every contest there is.”

  “Sounds like my kind of music teacher.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, pushing on the heavy door with his shoulder as he glanced back at me. “He’s real loveable.”

  I laughed.

  “So, we always have music class in the auditorium. Good acoustics. And more space, but a bit dark,” he said, leading me in to the giant open room. “It’s much brighter in here when the House Lights are on.”

  “Are you kidding? This room is great even in the dark.” My eyes followed the long columns of steeply inclined seats, stopping on the red velvet curtains framing the large stage. It reminded me instantly of ballet—with the smell of latex, chipboard and wool carpet—while the sound of feet on the floorboards over a hollow stage took me home again. In the aisle before the front row, students had dragged tables and chairs into a disorderly cluster, where they all sat tuning their instruments or laughing and talking.

  In the seconds it took to size up the group, my eyes swept past them and stopped on a long-forgotten acquaintance of mine. “A piano?”