I keep waiting for something to happen. For the whispering to start. For the labels to begin being thrown at me. Strangely, the morning goes by pretty uneventfully. Well, until fourth period rolls around.

Like I did in every other one of my classes, I first go talk to the teacher when I walk in to tell him that I’m new.

“Oh, yes, right.” Mr. Mcnellton, a middle-aged guy with thinning hair, glances up from the stack of papers on his desk. “I think your sister was in my second period class.”

“Cousin,” I correct. “But, yeah, we live together.”

“Oh, I see.” He clearly doesn’t, confusion flooding his eyes.

He wants to ask questions, but like most, he won’t, over the fear that the answer might be uncomfortable to hear.

It is, too, for everyone who dares to ask.

The girl who possibly murdered her parents.

He clears his throat then adjusts his tie. “Well, you can sit anywhere you like. The seats aren’t assigned. And I’m sure I’m going to enjoy having you in my class.”

I want to tell him my story of Jerry and his theory that proves there’s no way he can be sure of that, but I decide to attempt to keep on the teacher’s good side for now. So, I simply nod then wander toward a row of desks lining the middle of the classroom, choosing the far back one where I can keep my head low and hopefully not get called on.

Once I’m seated, I set my binder on the desk, pop my earbuds in, and then recline back in the seat. I have about four minutes until the bell rings, so I should be able to listen to one full song.

A minute later, I’m zoned out, tapping my fingers to the beat, when a guy approaches my desk. He has on a black hoodie with the hood drawn over his head, and his eyes are as dark as storm clouds, although completely and utterly gorgeous—and intense. His jawline is covered with stubble, along with a scar, and his expression is intense. I’m not sure what he wants, but I don’t really care too much, at least not enough to take my earbuds out. He makes no effort to move, though, continuing to stare at me.

What the hell is this guy’s deal?

I tug one of my earbuds out. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you’re in my seat,” he grumbles.

I’m so confused. “Really? Because the teacher said they aren’t assigned.”

A beat of silence passes by as he stares at me intimidatingly.

“They’re not officially assigned,” he finally states with a hint of annoyance. “But anyone who has any self-preservation knows not to sit in that seat.” He nods at the desk on my right then my left. “Or in those.”

I tap my finger against my lip. “Huh. I guess I must’ve left my self-preservation at home today.”

The tiniest bit of surprise flickers in his eyes, but he swiftly extinguishes it. “Well, I suggest you go find it before you end up doing something stupid.” He places his hands on my desk and leans in. “Now get out of my seat.”