“Several! Oh my, how talented you must be,” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. “I hear you playin’ most nights from my porch. Are you two girls musical as well? What a good brother you are to take care of your sisters with your parents away.”
Ivy sighed, the news of our arrival and our personal story seemed to have become town gossip very quickly.
“Will your folks be joinin’ you anytime soon?” Mrs. Henderson asked, looking around nosily, as if expecting a set of parents to jump out of the cupboards or drop from the ceiling.
“We hope to see them soon,” Gabriel said, his eyes flicking to the clock.
Dolores waited expectantly for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she pursued another line of questioning. “Do you know anyone in town yet?” It amused me to watch how the more she tried prying information out of him, the less forthcoming Gabriel became.
“We haven’t had much time for socializing,” said Ivy. “We’ve been quite busy.”
“No time for socializing!” Mrs. Henderson cried. “Good-lookin’ young things like you! We’re gonna have to do somethin’ about that. There are some very hip clubs in town; I’ll have to introduce you to them.”
“I look forward to it,” said Gabriel tonelessly.
“Look, Mrs. Henderson…,” Ivy began, realizing that the conversation was not about to wind up any time soon.
“Dolly.”
“Sorry, Dolly, but we are in a bit of a hurry to get to school.”
“Of course you are. How silly of me to prattle on. Now, if you need anythin’, don’t hesitate to ask. You’ll find we’re a very tight little community here.”
Because of Dolly’s “pop in” I missed the first half of English, and Gabe found his class of seventh graders entertaining themselves by throwing stationery at the ceiling fan. I had a free period next so I caught up with Molly at the lockers. She touched her cheek to mine by way of greeting and then gave me a rundown of last night’s adventures on Facebook while I unpacked my books. Apparently a boy named Chris had signed off with more hugs and kisses than usual, and Molly was theorizing on whether or not it marked a new phase in their relationship. The Agents of Light had cleared our home of any “distracting” technologies, so I didn’t know much about what Molly was talking about. But I managed to nod at regular intervals, and she seemed not to notice my ignorance.
“How can you tell what someone’s really feeling online?” I asked.
“That’s why we have emoticons, silly,” Molly explained. “But you still don’t want to read too much into things. Do you know what today’s date is?” Molly, I was discovering, had a disconcerting habit of jumping from one topic to another without warning.
“It’s March sixth,” I said.
Molly pulled out a pink pocket diary and, with an excited squeal, crossed off the day with a feathery tipped pen.
“Only seventy-two days to go,” she said, her face flushed with excitement.
“Until?” I asked.
She looked at me in disbelief.
“Until the prom, you loser! I’ve never looked forward to anything more in my life.” Ordinarily I would have been offended by her use of the word loser, but it hadn’t taken me long to realize that the girls around here used insults as a form of endearment.
“Isn’t it a little early to be thinking about that?” I suggested. “It’s more than two months away.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s the social event of the year. People start planning for it early.”
“Why?”
“Are you for real?” Molly’s eyes widened. “It’s a rite of passage, the one event you’ll remember your whole life, apart from maybe your wedding. It’s the whole shebang — limos, outfits, hot partners, dancing. It’s our one night to act like princesses.” It occurred to me that some of them already behaved like that on a daily basis, but I refrained from commenting.
“It sounds fun,” I said. In reality, the whole thing sounded ridiculous, and I resolved on the spot to avoid it at all costs. I could just imagine how strongly Gabriel would disapprove of such an event, with its emphasis on vanity and all things shallow.
“Any idea who you want to go with?” Molly nudged me suggestively.
“Not yet,” I dodged. “How about you?”
“Well,” Molly lowered her voice. “Casey told Taylah that she overheard Josh Crosby telling Aaron Whiteman that Ryan Robertson is thinking of asking me!”
“Wow,” I said, trying to pretend like I’d understood a word of what she’d said. “That sounds great.”
“I know, right!” Molly squealed. “But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to jinx it.”
She grinned and circled a date in mid-May in my school planner, drawing a big red heart around it before I could stop her. She handed it back and tossed her own into the mess of her locker. There were books piled haphazardly, posters of famous bands taped to the inside walls, empty snack wrappers, a half-finished bottle of diet soda, and an assortment of lip glosses and tins of mints littering the bottom. In striking contrast, my books were arranged in a neat row, my blazer was pegged on the hook provided, and my color-coded class schedule was taped neatly inside my locker door. I didn’t know how to be messy like a human; every instinct in me screamed for order. The proverb that “cleanliness is next to Godliness” couldn’t have been more accurate.
I followed Molly to the cafeteria, where we frittered away time until she had to go to math and I to French. But first I needed to detour back to my locker to collect my French books, which were big and cumbersome. I stacked them on top of my folder while I bent to retrieve my English-French dictionary, which was wedged at the back.
“Hey, stranger,” said a voice behind me. I was startled and jumped up so fast that I hit my head on the roof of my locker. “Careful!” the voice said.
I spun around to find Xavier Woods standing there with the same half-smile on his face that I remembered from our first meeting. Today he was dressed in a sports uniform — dark blue track pants, white polo top, and a track jacket in the school colors slung over his shoulder. I rubbed the top of my head and stared at him, wondering why he was talking to me.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I replied, surprised to find myself once again dazzled by his striking looks. His turquoise eyes were fixed on me, his eyebrows half raised. He was standing close enough this time for me to notice that his eyes were flecked with streaks of copper and silver. He ran a hand through the hair that flopped over his forehead, framing his face.
“You’re new to Bryce Hamilton, aren’t you? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk yesterday.”
I couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response, so I nodded and focused on my shoes. Looking up was a huge mistake. Meeting his gaze caused the same intense physical reaction I’d had last time. I felt as if I were falling from a great height.
“I hear you’ve been living overseas,” he continued, undeterred by my silence. “What’s a well-traveled girl like you doing in a backwater town like Venus Cove?”
“I’m here with my brother and sister,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, I’ve seen them around,” he said. “Hard to miss, aren’t they?” He hesitated a moment. “So are you.”
I could feel myself starting to blush and I backed away from him. I felt so feverish that I was sure I must be radiating heat.
“I’m late for French,” I said, snatching up the closest books I could find and half stumbling along the corridor.
“The language center’s the other way,” he called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
When I did eventually find the right room, I was relieved that our teacher had also only just arrived. Mr. Collins, who didn’t look or sound very French to me, was a tall, lanky man with a beard. He was wearing a tweed jacket and cravat.