“What?” said Bree. “Is it a crime to make an effort to be friendly to people you inexplicably don’t like?”

I was just as angry as Vik, but not at Bree. Who did Riley Bay think he was, following me to Henrietta’s just to stare at me creepily? And now he was going to ruin Jerrid’s party for me, too?

I rose from the table and started walking toward the door.

“Andi? Where are you going?” Vik called after me, concerned.

“Wait here,” I called back.

I caught up with Riley in the parking lot.

“What the heck is your problem?” I demanded angrily.

Slowly, he turned to face me.

“I beg your pardon?”

The words flowed from my mouth in a furious torrent: “You come here out of the blue, acting like you own the place. Suddenly, you’re in all of my classes, and you’re constantly staring at me, like I’m some kind of sideshow freak. Now you’re following me around outside of school, too? Just to stare at me some more? I repeat, what is your problem?”

Riley’s mouth fell open. It was the first time I’d seen him look anything but one hundred percent composed.

“You insolent wench!” he hissed. “You dare to question me?”

I was so shocked by the venom in his voice that the strangeness of his vocabulary almost didn’t register.

“Insolent wench?” I repeated incredulously. “Who the heck—”

I was cut off mid-sentence by a tremendous crash of thunder. I turned just in time to see a bolt of lightning hit the water in the harbor less than a hundred yards away. It was really weird, considering there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Even weirder, when I turned back, Riley was gone. I don’t mean that he was running away, or driving off. I mean that he had vanished without a trace. I was alone in the parking lot.

I didn’t know how he’d pulled that trick, any more than I knew where he’d come from or why he hated me so much. Only one thing was certain: I now had an enemy, whether I wanted one or not.

Chapter Five: Contradictions

After Thursday’s debacle at Henrietta’s, I spent Friday doubling down my efforts to avoid stumbling into Riley’s line of sight, at least whenever possible. I resolutely refused to look over my shoulder in any of our classes; miraculously, I managed it. Though it wasn’t easy.

I nearly had a slipup almost from the get-go in second period when Monsieur Cousteau called on Riley. Even though I was braced for it, his resonant voice three rows behind me sent chilly shivers down my spine as he conjugated the verbs perfectly, his accent flawless.

“Très bien, Monsieur Bay! Vous êtes un crédit à cette classe.” Even Monsieur Cousteau was awed by Riley’s command of the tongue. “Perhaps some of your classmates might benefit eef you offered your services as tutor, non?”