While Reg asked for directions to the main office, I took in the rest of the boy. Over his tan freckled skin, he wore the same T-shirt and jeans that seemed to be the uniform at this school, but I could tell right away he wore them better than everyone else. His shirt was pure white with no splashy slogan, and his hair was extra messy where it nearly touched his shoulders, like he’d spent the day in the ocean and then dried out in the sand . . . if there were any salt water or sand in Iowa, that is.

“And you are?”

The question hung out there in space for a few seconds before I realized it was directed at me. The boy’s green eyes caught mine, and I was struck dumb. Was he asking for my name? Had he said his? I wasn’t really listening, or maybe it was that the buzz in my ears hadn’t quite gone.

“This is my sister, Charlotte,” Reg said.

When I still said nothing, the green eyes slid from my face to my ensemble. “Guess they got fancier stuff where you come from, huh?”

“Charlie,” I choked out. “I go by Charlie.”

And then the floor opened up and swallowed me whole.

Or no, wait. That’s what I wished would happen. In reality, no such portal appeared to spare me this humiliation.

“Uh, right.” The boy lifted one eyebrow and took a step backward as if to distance himself from my crazy. “Well, the office is at the east entrance, down this main hall.”

I winced as Reg held out his hand like some kind of politician. “Thank you.”

Tall, Tan, and Blond shook my brother’s hand. “Sure thing. Good to meet you guys.”

But judging by the way he sped off, it didn’t seem like it had been that good at all.

The next half hour was a blur. Reg and I managed to find the main office and collect our schedules, then we wove through crowded hallways where more students either stared or whispered. Reg insisted they were only interested in the new kids, but I knew better. I didn’t need my old superpowered hearing to tell they were laughing behind my back.

I straightened my shoulders as we passed one pack of giggling girls. If they wanted a real laugh, they could just open the latest edition of Vogue. My sweater was on page three.

Reg headed for the senior section of the school with a quick promise to meet me out front at the end of the day, and all too soon I was sitting in the back of a classroom, tapping a number two pencil against my desk and wishing I could stake myself with it.