The thing about Darius was this: he might be crazy, or he might be lying, making up a story about a magic land so he wouldn't have to say where he really was from. But she liked his story, and the meticulous detail of it, and she liked him, with his archaic ways and respect for her body. It was fun having a man to herself. Since she had found him, she had not sliced her wrists. Her skin was healing over; she could probably take off her wrist wraps now, and the scars would not be fresh enough to attract attention.

In fact, all the time she had known him, she had been very like a normal girl. She had laughed, meaning it, liking his confusions, liking his company, liking him. When at last he had kissed her, she had become a normal woman. A woman in love.

Love. At first she had held it at arm's length, uncertain what to do with this weird emotion. Was it real, or just some -- thing she imagined? She had heard that girls her age only thought they could love, and were actually in love with the idea of love. Maybe that was true for some. Maybe for most. But not for her. What she felt swept all other considerations aside. It was like a magic fire, burning away all her prior supports, making ashes of other interests. Now there was only Darius. Everything she did was with his welfare in mind. Even what she would do today.

"Tell Biff I want to deal," she said to a boy she knew had a connection.

He was startled. "You?"

"Not his way. But if he has what I want, I'll deal."

She went to classes, and she shone. That extra homework time was paying off. Normally she skimped on schoolwork, and was bright enough to get by with high grades anyway; now she was prepared with research done for the joy of doing it with Darius, who was unfailingly interested in all the things of her world. What had been dull became interesting with him, and by the time she got it all explained to him, she knew it better than she had thought possible. But her performance was incidental; it was only to reassure everyone that Bright Little Colene had everything to live for, and nothing on her mind except classwork.

At lunch she was about to sit down with her tray when she saw a young man of about eighteen standing in the doorway to the rear exit. That was Biff. He was theoretically a student, but somehow he never attended classes. Students carefully ignored him unless they wanted something illegal. Then they dealt, making what deals they could. If the school adminis -- tration knew about it, it pretended ignorance, knowing that Biff could quickly be replaced by something worse.