Annie POV:

By the age of sixteen, I had learned many things: ninety nine percent of people were useless energy drainers, clothes always fit better unwashed, lasagna must be eaten with garlic bread, and people will always question the sanity of a girl making knots with a fraying piece of rope. But for all my gained knowledge about the world, I didn't have a clue what to do when a semi attractive boy was staring at you.

He was sitting directly across the waiting room, hands buried in his jean pockets, head tilted sideways as he examined me. It wasn't in a creepy way; at least, I didn't feel violated. It was more like he was studying me.

He was tall, and fairly good looking with his bronzed hair and patrician features, but the only thing I really noticed about him was an ugly sunburn on his right arm. It was blistered and red and only spanned from his shoulder to his elbow, somehow leaving the rest of his skin perfectly tanned. I didn't understand how he had done it. Patchy sunscreen application? Bad luck? A tank top and evening gloves?

Unfortunately, I caught his eye. He gave me a crooked smile.

I began wishing my previous teachers had taught us about social cues instead of things we'll never use in real life, like how much it costs to buy forty discounted watermelon at the grocery store. Then again, I had never had a boy stare at me before, so perhaps teaching social cues would have been baseless, too. Maybe they should just teach us about avoiding clowns.

"What on earth made you think she could transfer here?"

Principal Snow's closed office door did nothing to muffle the shouting match going on between him and my social worker, Effie. It didn't help that the door looked to be made of flimsy cardboard, but perhaps the conversation would have been harder to overhear if they weren't bellowing at the top of their lungs.

"May I remind you that this is a public school?" Effie's voice was high and squeaky, the way it always was when she argued with people about me: teachers, foster parents, therapists. "There is no reason why she can't transfer. I don't see you banning any other students from starting class!"

The sunburned boy raised a questioning eyebrow and jerked his head at the cardboard door. "You?" he mouthed.

No, Stupid, they're talking about the other deranged teenager waiting outside. I looked away, down at the rope in my hands. It was twisted into a complicated knot that had taken me months to learn, but all it took was for me to tug sharply on both ends of the rope for it to unravel and become straight again. I busied myself with making a slipknot.

"Yes," said Principal Snow in an exasperated tone, "because my other students are, well, normal. I've read this girl's record, and she's...not," he finished lamely.

I wondered how much time it had taken him to figure that out. A girl in ratty jeans and an old shirt, clutching a rope, sitting outside a principal's office and waiting for her social worker to finish up a screaming match. That, and her record stated she was placed in the psych ward two years ago for 'violent, uncontrollable behavior.'

I summoned up an image of the principal.

It must have taken a long time.

The sunburned boy had finally looked away. He was gazing with a thoughtful expression at the door.

Effie sounded scandalized. "If you have read her record, then you are perfectly aware of the circumstances—"

"SHE...IS...UNSTABLE!"

Each word was punctuated by a fist being pounded against a desk. I gave up trying to make a knot and clamped my hands over my ears, wishing the door wasn't made of cardboard and the principal didn't have such a loud voice and that the world didn't suck so much. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want–

The door burst open and Effie stormed out, one hand clutching the strap of her pink purse tightly. She drew up short at the sight of me. The door slammed shut behind her. "Annie?" she asked in a gentle voice, much different than her high pitched one. "Annie, are you all right?"

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to sob. I wanted to beg Effie to take me out of this stupid school and bring me to Baskin Robbins, the place she always took me when I was forced to move homes or schools, or when she found me sleeping on park benches or when I was an inconsolable mess and screaming and sobbing on the floor. The place she took me to when–

The door swung open again and Principal Snow emerged. He, too, pulled up short when he saw me.

"See?" he hissed in what was probably supposed to be a discreet manner. He gave her a look that was half exasperated, half indignant. She scowled at him and knelt down in front of me.

"Are you all right?" Effie asked again.

Deep breath. Another. In and out. Slowly, I managed a nod. To prove my point, I removed my hands from my ears and placed them in my lap, letting them go back to fiddling with the rope.

Principal Snow wasn't done yet. "You see, this completely proves my point. She–"

Effie stood up, cutting him off. "Are you her doctor?"

He batted the question away. "Of course not."

"Are you her guardian?"

"What kind of a question–"

"Are you her social worker?" Effie's voice was deadly low.

There was silence. "If you are not her doctor," she said, "then you have no right to diagnose her. If you are not her guardian, then you have no say in what she can and cannot do. And if you are not her goddamn social worker, then you had better sit your ass down and let me do my job."

More silence. It was broken by the sunburned boy giving a laugh poorly muffled by his hand. This distracted the principal, who started and spun toward him. "Mr. Odiar! What are you doing here?" he snapped.

The sunburned boy shrugged. "Apparently having nine unexcused absences in a month gets you sent to the office for a reprimand. Between you and me, I'm happy to tell Mr. Undersee that you gave me a stern lecture and be on my way."

"Nine–"

"Can we return to the issue at hand?" Effie interrupted.

"Yes-fine-Finnick-I mean, Mr. Odair-get to class. Now," Principal Snow said, sounding incredibly flustered.

Finnick flashed a peace sign and stood up. "Thanks, Cor," he said. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and winked at me. "Nice rope," he said, and then he was gone.

I frowned after him. What did he want from me? First the staring, and now he was complimenting my rope? It had even sounded sincere.

I was so lost in thought, I only half paid attention to Effie and Principal Snow, who were now conversing at a normal volume. I got the gist of it, though. I would be allowed to transfer and begin classes, but it would come with terms: Instead of going to the cafeteria, I would spend my lunch hour at the new school counselor's office, presumably so she could observe me and make sure I wasn't going to have a psycho melt down in one of my classes-this had happened on three separate occasions at different schools. It was also the reason I was forced to move. I would also not participate in after school activities. Finally, I would not take the bus to or from school.

Effie threw a fit at the last one, but I didn't really mind. My new apartment was only eight blocks away. I could handle it.

They left me alone for a few minutes to go sign some paperwork. When they came back, Effie knelt down in front of me and took one of my hands in her her own. I resisted the urge to pull away. This is Effie, I reminded myself. Effie.

"I'm going to go now, all right?" she said. "If there's any trouble, you call me." Principal Snow cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes. "If you ever get overwhelmed, you can go to the school counselor's office. Okay?"

I must have nodded, because the next moment she had given me a quick peck on the cheek and stood up. She gave a stiff nod to Principal Snow and left. Her three inch heels clicked as she walked down the hallway outside.

Principal Snow gave a heavy sigh and muttered something under his breath. He paced back and forth. Straightened his white tie. Took several deep breaths. "Annie," he finally said. He sounded as though the very sound of my name caused him disgust. "You may collect your new schedule and map of the school from my secretary. If you hurry, you should make it in time for third period."

I nodded and stood up. I slung the new backpack Effie had got me last year-to celebrate my sixteenth birthday-over my shoulder, wound my rope several times around my wrist, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Miss Cresta?" he called after me.

I turned back around. His eyes were narrowed as he took me in. "I'm sure you're used to not being...quite up to standard, but please try to not make it that obvious. Do I make myself clear?"

I swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. "Yes, sir," I said. ""Crystal."