"Everyone, listen up—this is your new classmate."

There was no need for Mrs. Westbrook's statement. They had all seen the unfamiliar blonde boy standing in the doorway, and all conversation had ceased immediately. Although new students came to Wammy's House every few months, it was extremely rare for one to enter this class directly. In addition, there was something about this particular boy that drew the eye and made it impossible to look away. Everyone's heads turned in unison as he strode to the center of the classroom, and there was a collective surprised hiss of indrawn breath when he dropped his stack of notebooks on Mrs. Westbrook's desk.

Then some students tore their gazes away from the kid and looked at Mrs. Westbrook, waiting for the storm of fury—but though her eyebrows creased into a frown, she chose not to lecture the new student on his first day.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to the class?" she suggested.

The new boy tilted his chin downward just a hair, and his lips spread into a sly grin. He swept the room slowly with piercing blue eyes. Matt was already watching him attentively, but when those eyes met his for a brief fraction of a second, his stomach…tingled. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, and it left him extremely unnerved as the new boy finished his survey of the class.

"You can call me Mello," said the blonde. Then he swept his things off of the teacher's desk and strode to the nearest empty seat in the classroom. He sat down and dropped a fresh notebook onto the center of the desk with a resounding thud. Paper crinkled loudly as he folded the cover back for the first time. "I'll sit here," he informed Mrs. Westbrook.

The room was gripped by another pregnant pause. No one assigned their own seat in Mrs. Westbrook's classroom. Again, everyone waited for the outraged lecture to begin—but it didn't. The teacher raised her eyebrows, but all she said was, "Very well…that seat is acceptable."

Then she turned to the board and picked up a fresh piece of chalk. "Now, we'll begin where we left off last time…"

And class was back to normal.

But not for Matt. He was still recovering from that bizarre feeling in his stomach, and he couldn't concentrate on the lecture at all. The sheer unfamiliarity and unexpectedness of the experience had left him flustered and a little bit shaky. He wanted to know what had caused it.

So he began parsing his impressions of the new boy. He had stood out from the moment he walked into the room, but why? All he had done was cross the classroom, and every new student had to do that. He'd put his things on Mrs. Westbrook's desk, something that no one familiar with her severity would dare to do—but Mello was brand new, so he obviously didn't know that she ran the strictest classroom in the House. Matt couldn't put his finger on what it was about him.

Things got easier once he began comparing his first impressions of Mello to those he had made of other new students in the past. Most of them trailed after Mrs. Westbrook like shadows, clutching their new school books nervously to their chests, and looked at the sea of unfamiliar faces in front of them with wide, fearful eyes. Not Mello—he had waited calmly in the doorway until Mrs. Westbrook had reached her desk and stopped. Only then, when all eyes were guaranteed to be drawn to him, had he strode into the classroom. And of the intimidation that other students felt upon entering the most elite classroom in the world Mello had shown no sign. He didn't avoid eye contact; quite the contrary, he had sought it out briefly with each one of them. That conveyed…confidence, that was the word Matt wanted. That was the realization that he had been working toward this whole time. Mello fairly oozed confidence. Everything he did, from picking his own seat to scathing the class with his imperious gaze, said that this boy was afraid of nothing. He looked like he was ready to take rank number one tomorrow.

Matt abruptly halted his train of thought. He was surprised at how far he had let his mind wander. Somewhere in the midst of his reasoning he had strayed from deductive analysis into wild speculation. It wasn't logical to conclude that Mello had no fears—or that he was smart enough to take a high rank—just from his brief introduction to the class. Near would chastise him if he'd spoken that aloud.

But nevertheless…Matt couldn't shake the feeling that it was all true.

He blinked eyes that had gone dry during his distraction and forced his attention back to the lecture. He would run his thoughts by Near later. If Near disagreed with his conclusions, he would forget about them.

"Well? What did you think?"

Near wound his silver-white hair around one finger, staring distractedly at the puzzle in front of him. "I haven't solved the equation yet."

Matt narrowed his eyes resentfully. "I wasn't talking about the stupid problem set," he said. "I meant Mello!"

Near shifted his weight from one bent knee to the other. "The new student," he stated. "I haven't formed an impression of him. There is no data yet from which to draw a conclusion."

"R—right, yeah." Matt couldn't tell whether he was relieved or disappointed to hear that. On one hand, that had been his eventual conclusion earlier. But on the other… "Hey Near…but um, what'd you think of…his eyes?"

Near's hand darted into the pile of puzzle pieces with surprising speed and drew one out. It looked just like all the others to Matt, but Near was able to connect it to one of its mates without hesitation. "They are blue," he replied.

Matt fought a surge of irritation. Sometimes he suspected that Near's conversational misunderstandings were deliberate. But he knew from long experience that pushing him would only make him act more difficult, so he kept his voice carefully neutral. "And that's it?" he prompted.

Near anchored another puzzle piece. "Yes. Is there something besides color to note about someone's eyes?"

Maybe not. But—"Near, did you actually make eye contact with him?"

Three more puzzle pieces snapped into place before Near answered. Matt swallowed his impatience hard. "No," he finally replied. "There's no point."

All right, it had been a dumb question. Near rarely looked even Matt directly in the eyes, and Matt was his closest approximation to a friend. Usually he didn't care, but today this annoyed him immensely. He turned away from Near and pulled out his game boy. "Well since you didn't bother looking, I guess you just can't understand," he declared airily. He switched on the game and flipped it quickly to silent mode, since they were in the library.

This time Near's response was almost immediate. "What additional information can be gained from looking at a person's eyes at the same time as he is looking at yours?"A great question. Matt's retort had been prompted by irritation, not because he actually had something substantive to say. Now he was belatedly realizing that he may have unwittingly picked an argument with the boy who beat him four times out of five for the title of best analytical mind in Wammy's House. He grasped for straws, and managed to find one. "Come on, Near. They say that "the eyes are the window to the soul," don't you know that?"

As soon as the words left his lips, he felt foolish. There was no logical merit behind that statement. Plus, it was pretty weird to start talking about the "soul" of some kid he didn't even know, even if it was in the context of a truism.

Near, though, entirely failed to catch the oddity. There was a moment of silence, and then Near's back and shoulders came to rest against Matt's, one hand anchoring firmly in his hair. They often sat like this while they studied, since Near loved hair but hated eye contact. "That is a myth," the younger boy replied crisply. "A human's eyes always look the exact same. In fact, they are the only part of the face that shows no expression whatsoever. You are mistaken."

That comment made Matt downright annoyed, and suddenly he found that he wanted to not only continue this debate, but win it. "I'm not mistaken," he insisted. "Mello looked every single person in the class in the eyes. That means that he likes being the center of attention, because he could have minimized his time in front of the class by not doing that. Eye contact is also a…personal connection. So that means he's sociable." Unlike you, Near, he thought, but stopped himself before saying it aloud. "He's not shy or awkward or unfriendly. He'll make a ton of friends in no time." And each of those statements, he had to admit, were just as untrue of himself as they were of Near. He pushed that thought out of his mind and continued. "He'll probably make friends with Linda and Kentin and—"anyone else who picks on you and I when the teachers aren't around. "—that crowd. And he'll make a bunch of enemies, too." The popular kids always did, somehow.

There was still more to be said, some essential quality in Mello's gaze that Matt hadn't been able to pin down in words yet. His eyes were still fresh in Matt's memory. Intense, piercing, eyes that somehow suggesting that they were looking through him—no, into him—rather than at him. The gaze that pinned him in place like a physical thing. "Mello's eyes are…special," he said quietly.

The slight tug in his hair as Near switched from holding it to braiding it reminded him of who he was talking to, and he belatedly realized that he'd spoken aloud. He suppressed a groan. He'd called Mello's eyes special; now he needed to back that up analytically or Near would end this discussion by chastising him here and now. "It's because of…the…expression on his face," he began, wincing as he faltered. "He smiled, but…it wasn't friendly. He didn't show his teeth. He kept his mouth closed and only smiled on one side of his face, so that made it look more like a smirk or a leer than an actual smile. He tilted his head down so that even though we were sitting and he was standing, it was as if he was looking slightly up at us. At that angle, eyes shaped like his look…threatening." The details began falling into place, and suddenly Matt could see his path to the finish line clearly. He plunged onward. "Tilting his head down also shadows his face a little bit, so it enhances all of those effects. He moves with very crisp motions. Combining all that, it makes his gaze look predatory." Finally, he had put his finger on it, that quality he'd been searching for a name for all day long. He grinned. "He's going to compete at a high level in classes. And he can't compete with the people in our class without being smart, so he's really smart. He may even compete for our ranks," he added thoughtfully.

"Matt has a very good analytical mind when he chooses to use it." Near's tone carried a hint of reproof, and Matt's heart sank. Being addressed by Near in the third person was never a good sign. "However, it is best to base conclusions on observable evidence rather than speculative extrapolation. There is no proof that he is smart, and there will be no empirical evidence either way until after the graded exam next week. Matt is having an emotional reaction to the new student, not a logical one."

Matt stiffened. "What?" he demanded, momentarily forgetting that they were in the library. He quieted quickly when he received a few dirty looks from other students. "I just told you all the reasons!" he hissed softly.

"None of what Matt calls "reasons" had anything to do with a change in his eyes, which was the original subject of discussion," said Near flatly. His tone clearly indicated that the conversation was closed. "More importantly--" He snatched the problem set that both of them had long since memorized from its resting place on the floor and held it behind his head with two fingers so that it dangled directly in Matt's face. "—there is this to consider. But Matt is slacking off, as usual."

Matt glared, even though Near couldn't see his expression. No seven-year-old should be able to talk to him like that. And even though Near had ultimately arrived at the same conclusion that he had earlier—that his logic wasn't good—he was now more certain than ever that he was right. It was so obvious, why couldn't Near see it? Because he hadn't even bothered making eye contact, that's why. "If you had looked in his eyes, you'd understand!" he insisted.

Near untangled his fingers from Matt's hair and pulled away, forcing him to sit up straight. "Matt is a distracting and unreliable study partner. I will work on the problems by myself."

Matt spun around and glared balefully at the back of Near's head. "Near is the one who's distracting!" He snapped his mouth shut in chagrin when he realized that he'd unconsciously emulated Near's speech pattern. "I mean, you're the annoying one, Near." Near was ignoring him in favor of arranging his stuffed bunny in a sitting position on the opposite side of his puzzle. Matt sighed. It would be a waste of time to try to change his mind now, but that was all right with him. He preferred working alone anyway—it was Near who was always seeking out his company, not the other way around. He relocated to one of the comfortable overstuffed library chairs and reset his video game. He had beaten this one twice already, but playing it helped to pass the time and stave off boredom.

He was so engrossed that he jumped in surprise when someone tapped on his shoulder. The hapless boy took a startled step back when Matt frowned at him. It was Daniel—studious, meek, perpetually nervous; he was in the bottom third of the elite class.

"Uh...I'm uh, sorry, Matt, but your game is really disrupting my concentration," he whispered. "Do you think you could maybe—"

"The sound's turned off," Matt pointed out resentfully.

"Yeah I know, but, um…the buttons still click really loudly," he said uncomfortably. "I'm really having trouble with this math, so—"

"Why don't you go somewhere else, then?" Matt demanded in bewilderment.

Daniel wilted. "It's just that the other tables are full, and I can't take the book I'm using out of the library. But, I mean, you could take your game anywhere, so…"

"I'm not doing anything to you," complained Matt. "Quit bothering me!"

Daniel gave him a miserable look and went back to his table. Matt swung his legs over the side of the chair and rested the game against the back of it so that he wouldn't have to see the back of Daniel's head anymore. After that he lost track of time and eventually dozed.

He was awoken by a clarion peal of laughter that shattered the silence of the library. He blinked groggily and rubbed his eyes as he searched for the source of the sound, but he already knew who it was. He spotted Mello at a table on the far side of the room. The library attendant had already approached and was leaning in to give him a soft lecture about the noise policy. Matt's eyes widened when he saw that Linda and Kentin were sitting at the table with him. He felt a surge of satisfaction and twisted in his seat to smirk at Near, but the white-haired boy was completely absorbed in his own thoughts and was still looking in the opposite direction. Matt rolled his eyes and turned back.

Now that the attendant had gone away, Mello and his two newfound companions were pointing and giggling in hushed voices. Matt followed their gazes and saw one of the students from the average class glaring back with a paper airplane clutched in his hands. As he watched, the boy crushed it into a ball and threw it onto the ground. Matt's eyes widened. Mello and his friends had actually dodged the bullet by getting caught only for noise—they would have gotten more than a lecture if the attendant figured out that they were picking on someone. He smiled slightly. This was his second prediction to come true in almost as many minutes—Mello was already starting to make enemies.

Matt watched them for awhile. They whispered and pointed furtively, picking their targets. Eventually the attendant left her desk and disappeared into the back shelves with a cart full of books. Mello moved quickly. Two students were hit with airplanes almost before Matt could blink. Mello buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Matt found himself grinning too, even though he was in no way part of the action.

An audible growl from his stomach brought him back to himself. He turned his game off quickly—he had died anyway—and left Near and Mello behind in the library in favor of the cafeteria. He grabbed a few bags of potato chips and two cans of soda and plopped down at one of the tables. He had resolved to work on the problem set while he ate, since Mr. Ruvie liked to lecture him if he fell too far behind Near, but his mind kept finding its way back to Mello somehow. He kept making new observations, things that went above and beyond what he had told Near. It was as if his first few conclusions had been the innocent snowflakes that started the avalanche of new thoughts—for example, when Mello had dropped his school supplies on Mrs. Westbrook's desk, that left him standing in front of the class alone, with no barrier between himself and them. No one else did that. Matt wore sunglasses as much as possible and if that failed, he looked at his video game rather than directly at whoever was talking to him. Near avoided eye contact with almost everyone in the first place, and if he was forced to make it he played with his hair nervously. Theirs were probably the most obvious ones, but other people had barriers too, even the popular ones. Kentin always put his hands in his pockets when he talked to someone, and Linda clasped hers, and Daniel played with his pen, and—the list went on, Matt realized. Everyone did something to avoid presenting themselves completely to others. But not Mello. He just stood with his arms hanging comfortably by his sides, or resting on whatever furniture was near him. Even his body language said volumes; he always took up the maximum amount of space, throwing his arms out, extending his legs…he must really like attention. It bespoke so much confidence—it all came back to confidence, really—

His train of thought was interrupted when someone sat down next to him. It was Temper, one of the girls in the elite class who was nearly the same age as him. Linda trailed closely behind her. Temper smiled shyly at him. "Hi."

Matt wondered why she had bothered greeting him when they had already spoken earlier that day. "Hi," he answered warily.

"Can I finish braiding your hair?" she asked.

Matt frowned in consternation and lifted his hand to his head. He had forgotten about the few small braids Near had made. They were sticking out haphazardly from the left side of his head. "Why?" he asked blankly.

Temper leaned forward earnestly. "Because it would look cute if all of your hair was braided!"

Matt was taken aback. Near had the deftest fingers, and it had still taken him several minutes to put these braids in. It would take at least an hour for Temper to apply the same thing to the rest of his head. And that wasn't even considering the amount of time it would take him to get it all out again. Was she stupid, suggesting something like that? Was she teasing him? "Why would I want that?" he demanded.

Temper pouted, thrusting her lower lip out. "You let Near braid your hair, but you won't let me?" she insisted.

Matt's jaw dropped. "It's not a matter of "letting," that's just what Near does." And she was in their class, she knew it as well as he did. So why was she acting like this? First Daniel, now Temper—why wouldn't people leave him alone? He turned away from her and popped a bag of chips open. "Won't you just go away?" he pleaded.

There was a long silence, and then a sniffle. "Fine!" exclaimed Temper thickly. He was peripherally aware of her jumping to her feet and running away. His relief to be free of her only lasted a moment, though, before Linda shoved his shoulder hard enough to make him drop his chips. He spun in his seat to find her glaring daggers at him.

"Geeze, Matt! Why do you have to be such a freaking jerk?" When he didn't answer, she pressed forward. "Don't you feel bad, making a girl cry?"

Matt stared at her blankly. "Why the heck is she crying?" he asked in bafflement.

Linda rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot." Then she turned and ran after Temper.

Matt turned back to his junk food and glared. Everyone had gone crazy today. The day had started off weirdly with Mello's arrival, and it felt like everyone else had been tainted by bizarre behavior after that. Maybe even he himself had, Matt admitted silently. He hadn't felt normal the entire day, not with thoughts of Mello buzzing incessantly through his head and refusing to leave him alone. It made him nervous and jittery, an extremely unfamiliar feeling.

Feeling. He had said it himself, this time. Near had suggested it earlier. Could he have been right? He recalled the way his mouth had dried up when Mello met his eyes, the way is stomach had felt funny. Was that a feeling? Or was it the way his mind had frozen in that moment that should be called a feeling? When it came right down to it, Matt didn't know.

But either way, he was still certain that everything he had seen—or deduced, or felt, or whatever—about Mello was completely true. He hoped Near had noticed that two of his conclusions and been borne out so far. But Near wouldn't take it seriously until he got the observed empirical evidence that he was looking for. Matt sighed in chagrin. That probably meant waiting until the written exam, and that was still eight days away.

Then his eyes snapped open. Actually there was another option, wasn't there…? If he wanted to know about Mello's personality, the quickest way was probably to talk to Mello. Surely it would become clear in conversation whether he was smart or not.

Matt rested his forehead against his palm and laughed quietly to himself. That was so obvious, wasn't it? He was surprised that it had taken him this long to realize it.

That settled it; to prove his point to Near, he would talk to Mello.

What followed were three extremely frustrating days. The flaw in Matt's plan became obvious almost immediately: he had no idea how to meet Mello. Making friends wasn't something he made a habit of, or had much success at. After all, the only person he could call something like a friend was Near—and Near was the only guy in the House worse at making friends than he was. They were pushed together frequently by circumstances since they were the two official potential Successors to L. They always had an advanced problem set unique to them that not even the rest of the elite class worked on, so they often studied together. If they weren't studying together then they were studying alone—never with the other students. The others respected them for their intelligence, but it also created a barrier. Everyone knew that Near and Matt were the smartest, everyone knew that Near and Matt had met L in person, everyone knew that Near was weird and Matt was unfriendly…it had pushed them into a sort of bubble, isolated from the rest of their classmates even when surrounded by them. They weren't often picked on outright, but they weren't exactly welcomed warmly by their peers either.

That was fine with Matt. He liked being left alone. It had never bothered him in the slightest—until now. He wished he'd paid attention in the past to how other people made friends. There had been plenty of opportunities—each time a new student arrived, in fact—but he'd never bothered. He'd never cared.

Right now the only new person was Mello, so he was trying to take note of how other people met him for the first time. He'd been ghosting after the blonde from time to time, trying to learn what he could. He never quite spotted a way that he could actually talk to him, unfortunately, but he was piling up a whole new set of observations. For example, he always traded parts of his lunch for peoples' desserts. Matt had taken to carrying a candy bar with him at all times, just in case. And he still kept noticing more and more details about Mello's first appearance, the avalanche of observations flattening all other thoughts, making it almost impossible for him to concentrate on anything. He hadn't been able to win a boss battle in days. He'd even slept poorly last night, waking fitfully with half-formed images in his mind of how Mello held a pencil or the shape of his shoulders when he was reading intently or the way his hair moved when he tossed his head.

The worst moment of all had come when he'd overheard Mello asking a few of their classmates about the ranking system. Matt had been sitting unobtrusively on the ground at the time, and no one had realized he was there. The other students had explained that everyone got a numerical ranking based on their most recent exam scores, and that Near and Matt were most often one and two. Mello had responded with, "I know Near, he's that strange pale kid…but who's Matt?"

So that was why today, when he saw Mello stand up from his table and leave the library alone, he dropped his video game without thinking and bolted after him.

"Hey!" he called.

Mello stopped and spun around in surprise. He cocked his head slightly when he saw Matt. "What?"

Matt froze. Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the candy bar. "Um—here! This is for you!" he blurted. He held the candy bar at arm's length, staring awkwardly at the floorboards.

Mello took a few steps towards him and pulled the offering out of Matt's numb grip. He glanced at it, then peered at Matt instead. "Hey—how'd you know that chocolate is my favorite?"

Matt's cheeks started to burn. He felt so strange under Mello's gaze, like the other boy was dissecting him with his eyes. It made his throat tighten so that he could hardly speak. "Um…" Somehow answering "because I've watched you eat every meal in the cafeteria" seemed like a bad idea. "Just…thought you'd like it," he mumbled.

Mello tore the wrapper back in one smooth motion and took a huge bite. "Thanks!" He grinned brightly. "You're nice."

Matt's eyes widened. Nobody had ever called him "nice" before.

"H—hey—do you want to come and study with me and Near later?" he stammered. "We have a special problem set that only we work on."

Mello crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you Matt?" he demanded.

Matt could have kicked himself. So stupid—all that talking and he had forgotten to give his name. But yet—"You know who I am?" he asked incredulously.

"You're hard to miss, with that hair," answered Mello. Matt's eyes widened and his hand flew unconsciously to his head. "Linda told me that the redhead in our class is called Matt. I heard you're the second smartest guy, too." He grinned radiantly, and the combination of his smile and his golden-blonde hair seemed to light up the hallway. "I'm going to take your rank."

The words weren't nice. The sentiment behind them wasn't nice. But somehow the only reaction Matt could have was to grin back stupidly because for some reason, the sun seemed to be shining straight through the walls of Wammy's House right then."Sure," said Mello. "I'll study with you guys." His eyes flicked to a clock hanging on the wall and widened. "I have to meet with Mr. Ruvie right now, but I'll find you after dinner!"

With that, he turned and dashed down the hallway. Matt stared after him. He had been even more vindicated by this conversation—Mello was just as full of confidence and competitive spirit as he had predicted! He couldn't wait until Near found out—he would have to eat his words so hard.

Matt couldn't stop smiling as he hurried to his next class.