I sat up in bed. I could see myself in the mirror over my dresser, and the sight made me wince even more than usual. There were dark circles under my eyes, the result of a night spent tossing and turning more than sleeping.

“Your mind is playing tricks on you,” I told my reflection sternly. “Just forget about it and get on with your day.”

As usual, I didn’t waste much time picking out clothes after my shower. I opened my closet and, after only a moment’s deliberation, pulled out a green cashmere sweater. Emerald green, like a certain pair of eyes… I shook my head. Focus, Andi! I put on the sweater, along with dark blue jeans and my favorite boots (brown suede with little brass buckles on the sides), brushed my hair and went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

By the time I got to school, I had finally managed to push all thoughts of the raven-haired boy from my mind. So it was a bit of a shock when I got to first period and found him sitting in the desk directly behind mine.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart pounding.

The boy looked straight at me. Suddenly, I understood what people meant when they described eyes as ‘piercing.’

“Whoa,” Bree whispered in my ear. “Who is that?”

So I wasn’t hallucinating; the boy was really there. He looked exactly the same as he had in my dreams, except… dry, and wearing FUBU. Also his hair was shorter than I remembered and appeared expertly styled in a way that made it look effortlessly mussed. The florescent lights of the classroom brought out the almost-blue highlights in its black waves. But where had he come from? What was he doing in my class? And who was he?

I got no answers that day. Mrs. Phillips didn’t even acknowledge the presence of the new student, nor did he introduce himself. The exact same thing happened when I got to French class. And Bio. And History. And PE.

Bree and I weren’t the only ones to notice him. Over the next couple of days, I heard a dozen variations on the same conversation:

“Have you seen that new transfer student?”

“The tall guy? Really pale, with black hair?”

“Yeah. He is so wicked hot! Did you catch his name?”

“No. Any idea where he’s from?”

“No, but I heard he’s a European model.”

“No way, his parents are diplomats, and totally loaded.”

“They must be!”

Everyone was curious and rumors abounded, but for some reason, no one was able to glean any actual facts on him. At first, the other girls could talk for hours just about how attractive he was. This resulted in a lot of jealous grumbling from the guys. However, the gushing died down as everyone started to realize what I’d known from the start: there was something off about the boy.