“Yeah, it was an immaculate conception.” Sophie laughed, and her friends joined in.
Kate scowled at her. “I’m sure it wasn’t that innocent.” She turned her attention to me. “He dumped my mom when he found out she was pregnant.”
Cece shrugged. “His loss.”
“Douche,” Sophie said.
Kate took a swig of her Coke. “But hey, get this. I’ve done the math, and it looks like I was conceived while my mom was in Phantom of the Opera. Maybe my dad was the Phantom. How cool is that?”
Cece grimaced. “I guess you could call that cool.”
“Or creepy,” Sophie put in. “You think he wore the mask while they were doing it?”
Marissa choked, spitting out her drink as she did so. “Blech,” she sputtered. “Don’t even go there.”
For a moment, no one said anything. I could feel Marissa’s eyes watching me as I took another bite of my sandwich. It was as if she was trying to figure me out, trying to decide. something. If she can trust me or not, my mind supplied. Which seemed a little silly, considering she’d just met me. All we were doing was making small talk, anyway.
“How about your parents, Sophie?” I asked, trying not to look in Marissa’s direction. Her steady gaze was getting unnerving.
“My dad’s in finance — manages a hedge fund — and my mom’s what I call a professional volunteer,” Sophie answered. “You know, committees, foundation boards, stuff like that.”
“And they have a house in Saint Bart’s,” Cece added, smiling broadly. “That’s the best part. If we’re all real nice to her, we might get invited there for spring break.”
“Cece likes to celebrity-watch. It’s disgusting,” Sophie said, tossing her hair.
Cece narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you didn’t think it was so disgusting last year when we were following Leonardo DiCaprio around, now, did you?”
Everyone laughed, and I joined in. I think I’m going to like it here, I told myself. These girls were nice, all of them. Even Marissa, who clearly would take a bit more effort to win over than the rest of them.
That they were accepting me as easily as they were was a miracle in itself, and I wasn’t going to complain if Marissa was a little standoffish at first. With a smile I watched them all chattering happily. Yeah, I’d made the right choice when I’d picked Winterhaven. Definitely.
Suddenly the girls went entirely silent, all of them looking over my left shoulder. The hair on the nape of my neck rose, and for a moment I didn’t move. And then, as if in slow motion, I turned around and found myself looking up into the face of Aidan Gray. I swallowed hard, unable to utter a single syllable.
“It’s Violet, right?” he asked.
I cleared my throat before attempting to answer. “Yeah” was all I could say.
His eyes regarded me for a moment, and I noticed a coldness there that I hadn’t noticed before. Finally, he spoke. “I thought maybe we could meet after sixth period. To go over the history material,” he added.
“Um, okay.” Why was I tripping over my tongue?
“What class do you have sixth period?”
I just sat there, my mind spinning. I came up completely blank.
“Fencing,” Sophie piped up. “Didn’t you say you had fencing sixth period?”
I sighed my relief. “Oh, that’s right. Fencing.”
“I’ll meet you outside the gym, then, and we’ll try to get you caught up.”
“Okay, great. Thanks,” I added, feeling a bit woozy.
His gaze traveled over my face, making me incredibly self-conscious. “See you then,” he said at last, and then he was gone.
Slowly, I turned back to my tablemates, who all looked as stunned as I felt. What was with this guy?
“The Aidan effect,” Sophie said with a sigh.
The afternoon sped by. Right after lunch I followed Sophie and Kate to fourth-period trig. It felt comfortable sitting there between them, chatting while we waited for class to begin. I was more at ease than I had been all day, and I was beginning to recognize several kids from my morning classes. Some even managed to smile at me rather than stare.
Fifth period I was back on my own again. Cultural Anthropology: Folklore and Legend, which sounded much more promising than the plain old anthropology course taught at Windsor. Even more interesting, the headmaster was listed as the instructor. After double-checking the room number to make sure I was in the right place, I hurried inside. The classroom was much smaller than any other I’d been in so far, with the desks arranged in a semicircle. Seeing no one I recognized, I found an empty seat and slid into it.
I dug out my notebook and pen and started doodling while I waited for class to begin. After a minute or two, a strange awareness shot through me, and I looked up to see Aidan Gray slip into the seat directly across the room, facing me. Great. There went my concentration, especially since he sat there watching me, studying me like some interesting bug under a microscope.
Still waiting for Dr. Blackwell, I decided to study Aidan right back. He was tall, close to six feet, I’d say. More long and lean than muscular, but not skinny. He wore dark jeans with combat boots and a black hooded sweatshirt, a multicolored striped scarf hanging around his neck. The ball cap from earlier was gone, and his hair shone like gold in the afternoon sun that streamed in through the bank of windows behind him.
Suddenly he swung his head toward the door, and a second later Dr. Blackwell walked in. The headmaster smiled when he saw me sitting there, and I could swear he actually winked when he passed my desk.
“Has everyone met our new student?” he asked, moving to stand in front of his desk. For perhaps, oh, the twentieth time that day, everyone turned to stare at me.
“No?” Dr. Blackwell asked in response to the unintelligible murmurs. “Well, then, Miss McKenna, if you’ll stand up, please.”
Stand up? Oh, please, no. Why did teachers insist on doing this? Didn’t they realize how cruel it was? Feeling as if I were going to barf right then and there, I stood, my legs a little shaky.
“Class, please welcome Miss Violet McKenna. I am confident that you will all do your best to make her feel right at home.”
No one said a word.
“Thank you,” the headmaster said. “You may sit, Miss McKenna. Now, I believe we left off yesterday with a discussion about tribal folk dance in West Africa, correct?”
Everyone nodded, flipping open notebooks and pulling caps off their pens. I chewed on the end of my own pen, fully aware that Aidan continued to stare at me across the width of the room rather than take notes as Dr. Blackwell began his lecture. It was almost as if he was trying to distract me. Or annoy me, I wasn’t sure which. Don’t look up, I reminded myself, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on Dr. Blackwell’s voice. What was he talking about, anyway? Tribal dances? In Africa?
Instead of listening to the lecture, I concentrated on the sound of pens scratching paper, on the scent of chalk lingering in the air. Reaching up to stifle a sneeze, I let my gaze drift to the windows, where wide beams of sunlight cast long stripes across the green speckled carpet. Dust motes floated in the air, looking like insects. I knew I should be listening, paying attention to what Dr. Blackwell was saying, not allowing my mind to wander aimlessly. I also knew that Aidan was still watching me; I could feel his gaze, unrelenting.
This was ridiculous. Straightening in my seat, I willed myself to concentrate. “. in an effort to ward off evil spirits and preternatural creatures,” Dr. Blackwell was saying, and my waning attention immediately snapped into focus.
The girl sitting to my left raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Anderson?”
“By preternatural creatures, do you mean like, well, like—”
“Good question,” he interrupted with a nod. “But no. They call them by different names than we do, but werewolves, vampires. Assorted creatures of the night, and—” The bells interrupted him, and I let out my breath in a rush. Man, but that had been the longest fifty minutes of my life.
“Please read chapter seven by tomorrow, and be prepared for a quiz,” the headmaster called out over the din. At once the class sprang into motion, slapping shut notebooks and retrieving bags. Careful not to raise my gaze, I reached for my own bag and took my sweet time stuffing my things back inside, hoping that Aidan would have done his speedy disappearing act by the time I stood up to leave.