He was in almost all of my classes. And I had never noticed before—how was this possible? How was it possible that I had never before noticed this impossibly handsome person before? Because I don't notice anyone, I reminded myself. And it was true; I didn't notice anyone. I hid inside my textbooks, ignored the world around me, tried not to be touched, and did my homework. I'd never gotten less than an A in my life. My parents considered a 92, a B by my school's standards, to be a failure. So did I, and because of this conviction, I hadn't had a real friend since fourth grade, had never had a boyfriend even in my high school of over 1,000 people, and though I'd skipped eighth grade and could have gone to probably any college I wanted, I had no future.

God, that's bleak.

Stop thinking this way! Ten minutes with a reasonably attractive boy and your entire system for being has collapsed around your ears!

He wasn't just 'reasonably attractive,' either. And the horrible thing was that everything I'd said—well, thought—in the past five minutes had been true. The collapse of my system, I mean, because, for a moment, I might even have wanted him…to…to touch me.

That's idiocy. Get your mind back to the teacher and back to your work. But if I paid slightly less attention than usual, I wasn't to blame, he was.

Dell…

I was stowing my things in the crate on the back of my bike when someone called from their car, "Hey Leia! Do you want a ride?" It was Carrie. What is she doing? It's not as if we're friends, we're just partners for a stupid English project. But I went up to her anyway.

"Sorry, but I don't think my parents would like that," I said.

"Oh, that's easy," she said, tossing long, black ringlets. "I'll drop you off a few blocks from your house and they'll never know."

That wasn't actually a problem. Mother and Father were always still at work when I got home. It was the whole idea of deceiving them… And a new voice, an aspect of my conscience I'd never heard before, piped up, What does it matter? You work hard every day, and they'll never know. Besides, it's cold and windy outside. You deserve a break. So I smiled at Carrie. A real smile, unlike the one I'd given her during class. "Sure, just let me get my stuff."

Carrie helped me arrange my bike in the back of her tidy little sedan, being, I noticed, careful that our hands didn't touch. I was grateful to her for that.

But I suppose I had too much faith in the purity of her motives, because she turned to me with an almost wicked grin. "So…" she began, her dark eyes glittering, "You and Dell."

I was thunderstruck. Whatever gave her that idea? "No! I mean, we just—why do you say that?"

She giggled. "Oh, just that I have never seen Dell act like that around anyone."

"What, do you mean he actually talks around other people?" I demanded acidly. How dare this girl make such assumptions!

Another part of me was thinking, Am I really that obvious?

Carrie's face flickered from teasing to apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," she said contritely.

I stammered uncomfortable disclaimers about it being okay (and something, I think, about not dating), but it wasn't okay, not at all. And I didn't really want to start thinking about why it made me uncomfortable—because it's true—and we sat uncomfortable and silent except when I needed to give Carrie directions to my house. None too soon, we got to my street. "Just stop here," I said. "I'll walk the rest of the way."

Obediently, Carrie pulled over to the curb and helped me unload my bike and backpack, again careful that we didn't touch. "Thanks," I said, smiling at her again. "I really appreciate it."

"You are so welcome, Leia," she replied sincerely. But as I got on my bike to ride the block or so to my house, something occurred to me. How did she know the way to my house?

My head had stopped spinning, mostly, by the time Carrie's car pulled up the driveway. We lived in the same house, but it had been decided that it would cause less suspicion if we didn't ride in the same car. We couldn't have passed as siblings—Carrie's big, dark eyes, long, midnight-colored hair and moon-pale skin compared with my own olive skin and unnaturally light eyes would have destroyed any illusions of that nature—so we were 'friends.' Who, as far as the school knew, didn't live together.

"What kept you?" I asked, though I didn't really care.

"Gave a human a ride from school," she said nonchalantly. "Leia Price, actually."

And…there went the head spinning all over again. "Why?" I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant and casual as she did.

Carrie looked at me mock-scornfully. "There are two reasons why I would give a random human a ride home from school. One, if I thought I could get information. Or two, out of the pure, innocent goodness of my heart, because she looked so sad and lonely, putting her huge, heavy backpack on a milk crate attached to the back of her bicycle."

"And which one was it?" I demanded, irritated, though I couldn't have done anything to her anyway: Carrie could have been the witch Maiden if she'd wanted to, her power was that great.

"Neither. Or both. But not the sort of information I'm supposed to be getting. She doesn't date, you know." And she flashed me a white-toothed smile before waltzing into the hall.

"Why do I care if she doesn't—oh, never mind!" You are an interfering pest, I thought as hard as I could, and was rewarded, if you could call it that, by the sound of high, pealing laughter. And it has nothing to do with anything we are supposed to be doing here!

Carrie came back into the room. "It doesn't have to be all work, you know," she said mock-seriously. "There are dances and boys and graduation parties—"

"We're supposed to be done before we graduate," I said, exasperated. "This isn't supposed to be fun."

"But it can be…" she sang hauntingly before disappearing again. This time I didn't try to call her back. I slumped over the table, my backpack landing with a thump on the tile floor. This was…this was depressing: ever since we'd come here, Adler Mostro had been a model citizen. We were in all his classes, and we sometimes did surveillance with the other who were here (though we were the leaders of the whole, useless expedition), and he had done nothing. He had done his homework. We got to watch an incredibly evil, human-hating shapeshifter behave like a human teenager.

Sans any friends whatsoever, of course. You knew this wasn't going to be entertaining, I reminded myself.

Yes, but I thought it would be dangerous. I thought I might be making up for things I've done.

Unless you want to provoke Adler Mostro. Which would be about the same as provoking both Rashel and Quinn at the same time. I'd met both these Daybreakers, briefly, and it wasn't an experience I really wanted to repeat.

I walked to Carrie's room, knocked, and without waiting for her to open the door, called, "Carrie, I know you don't particularly care, but I'm going hunting. Don't die if you can help it." And I had almost made it out the door when her curly head popped out.

"Good hunting. And incidentally, I know something you don't know, but don't worry. You'll know soon." And then she retreated inside her bedroom again.

It was dark by five thirty in the afternoon here, which made my life that much easier. Humans were generally inside—less chance of being seen, and animals were sleepy. I found a rabbit and a squirrel, but let the squirrel go, as it appeared to be rabid.

And it was by following a deer that I made my way to a residential neighborhood. The deer escaped, but that was suddenly the least of my problems, because there was a human less than fifteen feet away.