“Seriously,” I replied. The door swung open, and David stood there, dressed in a yellow sweater and his green corduroy pants. He looked like he should be on PBS, talking to a puppet about the alphabet. Still, I had to admit, yellow was a good color on him. It brought out the gold in his hair, and—

I stopped myself. The gold in his hair? Since when did I care about David Stark’s hair except to note when it was trying to escape from his skull? These past few days were clearly messing with my head.

“Hey, Pres,” David said, and then his gaze swung to my right. “And . . . Bee. You’re here. With Harper. At our house.”

His brows practically disappeared as he turned back to me. “You . . . brought Bee to—”

“Training, yeah,” I said quickly. While David stared at me like I’d grown a second head, I breezed past him, pulling Bee after me. “I couldn’t keep everything a secret from everyone forever, so I let Bee in on what’s been going on.”

Now David’s jaw was hanging open slightly. “You told her—”

“That Saylor is training me and you in martial arts, yes.” I moved into the foyer, heading toward the back of the house.

“Martial . . . arts,” David repeated slowly, closing the door behind him.

It was stupid. Ludicrous, even, the idea that Saylor Stark was some kind of secret kung fu master, teaching me and David the ancient art of hand-to-hand combat, but I had to tell Bee something. It would give me an excuse to be around the Starks, and it would get Bee on my side. When I’d told her, I hadn’t had to fake my blush or the embarrassment that colored every word.

“That’s . . . super bizarre,” Bee said once I’d finished.

“Now you see why I’ve been so secretive about it. I mean, learning to kick people in the head and stuff? It’s not exactly how people see me.”

Bee had pulled a long strand of hair over her lips and mouthed it thoughtfully. “I get that, Harper, but this just . . .” She shook her head, blond hair moving over her shoulders. “It seems so not you.”

“I know it does, but I wanted something that was different. Something for me. Leigh-Anne was a cheerleader, and Homecoming Queen and did Cotillion, and this just felt . . . mine.”

The words spilled from my lips almost too easily, and surprised, I realized that’s because they were . . . kind of true. I was enjoying this. All right, maybe “enjoying” was a strong word, but as soon as I’d committed myself to helping David, to fully being a Paladin, a kind of rightness had set in.