“Wow, you make it sound awesome.”

“I’m exaggerating. Graveyards are more exciting.”

Nadia smiled, but talking to Verlaine felt—weird. She didn’t want to make any friends. After the way everybody had started avoiding her in Chicago—like her bad luck was catching—well, “friendship” obviously didn’t mean what Nadia had always thought it did. And there was just something about Verlaine … something she couldn’t put her finger on....

There was no time to think about that, though. By the time the secretary finally waddled forth with her class schedule, Nadia was already almost late for her first class. She politely waved good-bye to Verlaine, who didn’t really react, only nodded; then she rushed toward what she thought was the right building. Forget the locker—that she could find later, and it wasn’t like she had any of her books yet.

“There he is,” whispered one girl excitedly. “Holy crap, he got even hotter over the summer. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“He’s nice to look at,” said another whisper, “but he’s bad news. You know that.”

“It’s a bunch of crazy gossiping old people. That’s all that is.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, how come you never talk to him, either?”

“Shut up.”

Nadia couldn’t help but turn her head to see who the whispering was about—and her eyes went wide.

Mateo. He was here, in her school—letter jacket on his shoulders, dark hair brushed back, even more gorgeous in the daylight than he’d been in the dark. In those first terrifying moments, she’d assumed he was a couple years older than she was, but apparently he was a student at Rodman, too.

For his part, when their eyes met, he froze in place. It was almost as if the sight of her—scared him.

But that couldn’t be right. He’d saved her from the wreck, which was the single bravest act she’d ever witnessed. Why would he be scared of her?

Nadia said, “Mateo, hi. I didn’t realize you went here.” Was that a stupid thing to say? It wasn’t like they’d talked a lot about school or anything else.

He said only, “Yeah. Hi. Are you okay? You and your family?”

People were staring at them openly: the new girl and Mateo, who was for some unknown reason “bad news.”

“They’re fine,” Nadia said quickly. “Dad cracked a couple ribs, but not too bad. He’s already feeling better. Started work today.” Like he even cared about her father’s job. Words seemed to be coming out of her mouth for no reason.

“Good. That’s good.” Mateo ran one hand through his dark hair, as though he was self-conscious; now that she saw it in daylight, Nadia realized it wasn’t black like hers but the deepest possible brown, just like his eyes. His skin was as tan as hers, maybe even darker. He wasn’t supertall, but a couple inches over her—which was of course perfect—

“So. Okay. I’ll be seeing you.” Nadia started to walk past him, then realized she’d forgotten to mention something. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”