“Rich, hot, and they’ve got that bad-boy edge going for them.” She nods. “Xander and Angus are users. Been through half the girls in this school. Not Will though. He’s…”
I lean forward, eager for anything she will impart about him.
“Well. Will…” A wistful smile curves her mouth. “He’s elusive. None of the girls here interest him.” She rolls her magnificent eyes and sighs dramatically. “Course that just makes us want him harder.”
Stupid delight flutters inside my chest.
“I’m Catherine,” she announces.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Jacinda. I know.”
“How do—”
“Everyone knows your name. And your sister’s. Trust me. It’s not that big of a school.”
She steps forward and brushes my hands off my lock. “What’s the number?”
I toss out the six digits, vaguely wondering if I should be giving out my combination to a stranger and how I’m ever going to learn to open the thing myself. Catherine’s fingers fly. She lifts the handle and frees the door.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” She leans a shoulder against the lockers, looking content and natural. Like we do this every day. “Word of advice. You might want to stay away from him.”
“Will Rutledge?” I ask, getting a thrill from just saying his name.
She nods. For a moment, I feel like I’m talking to Tamra again. Frustration seeps through me. My whole life I’ve been given advice that I’m expected to follow.
I hold on to my chemistry book and slide my lit book down from its shelf. “Why is that?”
“Because Brooklyn Davis will pulverize you or any girl who goes after him.”
I thought maybe she had been warning me off Will because he’s trouble. Like he told me himself. This, I could believe. This, I already know. I’m reminded of it every time he’s near in the tightening of my flesh.
“Oh.” I nod, remembering the girl from my English class. Then, I shrug. After running for my life from hunters, a girl with too much lip gloss doesn’t register on my fear radar.
I’ve dealt with girls who didn’t like me before. Miram, Cassian’s younger sister, leaps to mind. That girl hated me. She couldn’t stand the amount of attention her family gave me—her father, Cassian. Even her aunt doted on me in a way that always creeped me out.
Like she thought she was my mother or something. But because Catherine is looking at me like I should say something more, I add, “I’m not going after him.”
“Good. Since you’re the new girl, Brooklyn can make your life hell.” She winces and readjusts the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. “Well, really if you’re any girl, she can make your life hell. Take it from me. I’ve been there.”
I shut my locker. The sound bleeds in with all the other slams ricocheting down the hallway. “Then it doesn’t really matter either way, does it?”
“Just a warning. She’s probably already heard that he sat with you and is plotting your slow demise as we speak.”
“So he sat with me.” I shrug. “We hardly spoke.”
“This is Will Rutledge we’re talking about,” she reminds me, as if that means something.
And of course, it does. But not in the same way it does for other girls.
With Will, I feel connected, drawn. Every fiber of my being remembers those moments in the cave, prey and predator finding communion in each other. But because the last thing I want to do is reveal that Will is anything special to me, I say, “So.”
“So?” She stresses the word. “He doesn’t date high school girls. He hardly talks to any of us. No one knows that more than Brooklyn. Just watch your back around her.”
“So if Brooklyn can’t have him no one can?”
“Pretty much,” she replies.
Incredible. I’ve only been here a day and I already have an enemy? “Why are you telling me this?”
“Call me a Good Samaritan.”
I smile and decide that I might like Catherine. Maybe I could find a friend in this place, after all. I’m not opposed to friends. I miss Az like crazy. Not that Catherine could ever replace her, but she might make being here more bearable. “Thanks.”
“Sit with me in study hall tomorrow.”
Instead of Will. As if Will might want to sit with me again. “Sure.”
“Great.” She shoves off the lockers and tosses her choppy bangs back from her eyes.
“Can’t miss my bus. See you tomorrow.” As she disappears into the throng of students, I spot Tamra walking between a guy and a girl. She hasn’t spotted me yet. She’s smiling.
No, beaming. Happier than I’ve seen her since Dad died. Even further back than that.
Since it became clear she wouldn’t manifest.
I can’t help feeling sad. Sad and lonely as I stand in a crowded hall.
Mom’s one of the first at the curb when we step outside. Heat blurs the air. It tastes like steam in my mouth and nose. My skin itches, roasting in the hot, drying atmosphere. I press my lips tight and hurry toward the car.
Our blue and rust-stained hatchback noses to the head of a long, coiling serpent of vehicles.
Tamra groans next to me. “We need our own car.”
I don’t bother asking how we might pull that off. When Mom traded in the wagon several towns ago for the hatchback, she still had to toss in some cash. And there is the small matter of survival…keeping a roof over our heads, food in our bellies. We barely scratched enough together to cover rent and a deposit on a place to live. Thankfully, she starts work tonight.
Tamra slides me a look. “Not that you would be allowed behind the wheel. I’ll have to drive us.”
I roll my eyes. It’s a running joke in the family. I can fly, but I can’t drive to save my life.
No matter how many times Mom has tried to teach me, I’m hopeless behind the wheel.
Tamra takes the front seat. I climb in the back.