“I know. You’re from Chicago. You moved into the old Foley house on Forrest.” I stiffen, and Lennon must notice because she explains, “You’re the only thing people were talking about on Roundtable today.”

“What?”

“Roundtable. It’s like an anonymous Twitter feed but exclusive to Nacoma students. We don’t really have much to do out here other than gossip and talk shit about one another.”

“You have an anonymous app for gossip?” I ask, and holy crap, is this not something I need at the moment.

“Yeah. Normally, I wouldn’t introduce a newbie to it so soon, but everyone is super curious because there was precious little they could dig up about you. Of course, that leaves a lot of room for speculation, you know.”

“Oh, well, I don’t want that. Best to get everything out in the open. I’m actually a hundred years old, and I bathe in the blood of virgins to stay youthful.”

Lennon stares at me for a moment, and my face reddens. Maybe I went too far with that joke. Then a smile breaks out across her face, and she pretends to write on the books cradled in her arm.

“Virgins…got it. If I see any, I’ll let you know.”

We both laugh, and I’m feeling a little more relaxed. Lennon inclines her head to get a look at my schedule.

“What’s your next class?”

It’s biology in Kline—a building that is closer to Emerson than Walcourt, which means another trek across campus.

As it turns out, that’s Lennon’s next class too. We also have World History and English III together. Lennon chats beside me as we head to Kline. The path we take is free of the dead, and I can concentrate on what she’s saying.

“I hear Shy Savior got to show you around this morning. You know he’s a senior and the quarterback of our football team? Total cliché. He’ll probably be homecoming king this year. Natalie is weirdly protective of him, so that’s probably why she’s cagey about you.”

That turns my stomach sour, not that I should care, but I do not need to be in the middle of drama.

“I’ve been here for a full”—I look at my phone—“two hours. I’m not interested in Shy.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

I sigh. “I hate high school.” But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d asked for exactly this—the normalcy of high school, even if it comes with petty drama.

Lennon sits next to me in the classes we have together and points to the people I should know.