My school, which is really weird to say after three years of not having any kind of schooling used to have a dress code, but you just can't restrict artists. They need to be free to express their sense of style. Besides, clay, pen, and paints always stained the pricey clothing. To the delight of the students, the uniforms were dropped, and as long as everything that needed to be covered was, everything went.

I chose the paint splattered jeans I wore to the parent meeting and a cobalt blue top from Old Navy. I tied my orange Converse high tops and picked up my new Messenger bag full of school supplies. I took a long look at my flat. I knew I didn't actually have to go. There were other paintings out there. But, I ran already too much. I couldn't abandon this because I was scared like I normally did. Besides, it was a huge score. The con should have been easy for me. I was a self made millionaire, for heaven's sake.

I flipped the light switch to off and locked the regular and extra lock I installed. Even if I was in one of the most secure apartments in the city, I didn't trust them. It would have been easy for a certain special agent to be granted access to a key. Was I paranoid? Maybe a little, but I had to be ready for anything. Peter doesn't let anyone go. He obsessed over Neal. I don't even want to know how badly Burke wanted to catch me. The only thing he had on me was fingerprints and a sketch. The FBI doesn't even know my real name. They won't ever find out, thanks to Mozzie who completely erased my file making me non existent. I'm sure they'd quickly find me if he hadn't. I owe Mozzie so much, but he doesn't remember me very well, and I don't repay favors that aren't charged.

I decided I would walk to school since I couldn't exactly drive to school without raising questions. It didn't take long to get there and I stood at the doors petrified. How hard could Highschool be?

I walked in and took a look at my surroundings. The building looked like the school off of High School Musical only instead of basketball jocks everywhere there were artists. You could tell right away they were. Freshmen were by their lockers looking fidgety and nervous, the 10th graders, I shuddered to see all the girls in a circle chattering, I hated cliques when I was in seventh grade, were mingling in the hallways and talking about what they did over the summer, the Juniors looked perfectly comfortable sitting at the cafeteria tables, and the 12th graders were looking cocky and laughing at a Freshmen that just puked in his nervousness. I read a sign on the front doors that instructed transferring students to check in at the office, so that's where I headed.

There were three kids already in the office. I guess I was running a little late, because a secretary was talking rapidly and handing out papers.

"Ah, there you are Ms. Westbrook," she said, trying to appear cheerful but doing a poor job of it.

"Thanks," I said and turned red because the three students turned around to stare. I turned even more scarlet when I recognized that one of the students was the boy from the parent meeting. There was a boy beside him, a well built African American who looked like he belonged to the NFL instead of an art school. A girl was beside him, she was blonde with sparkling blue eyes. She flashed a blinding white smile and looked like she was hyped up on enough sugar to equal a six pack of Monsters.

The secretary gave me a packet full of papers for me to fill out and told us to go ahead to our lockers.

"Hi, I'm Pepper," the blonde said, practically jumping up and down.

"Hi," I replied shortly, turning quickly to get rid of her.

She didn't give up, though, "I'm going to be your guide for the day, we're in all the same classes, isn't that great?"

"Fantastic," I said in a tone to imply that it was not. To my dismay, she didn't seem to catch it.

"Our lockers are right next to each other, this year's going to be great..." Pepper rambled on about all the classes and the art class they were taking. I tuned it out until she mentioned the Trouillebert piece.

"Are you interested in that?" I asked casually.

Delighted that I actually responded, she overloaded me with information about it. I kept a mental note of it and continued to set up my locker. Two lockers away, the boy from the meeting and his guide were talking about the painting as well. It seemed odd, two new kids very interested in the same painting. Of course, it was a famous piece and it could have been my paranoia talking but I decided to keep my eye on him.

"Are the guys from the office in our classes too?" I asked Pepper, not even realizing she was still talking.

She stopped mid sentence and nodded vigorously saying, "Yeah, that's Cody Walker, he's new too, and then his guide is Macindaw. His first name is Taylor but don't call him that," she said seriously.

I laughed, "Why?"

Pepper went back to being her annoyingly bubbly self, "I like your laugh, it's nice, and he has some anger issues. His best sculptures are when he's angry, though."

I looked at his huge hands, "He sculpts?"

"He's one of the best in the school," Pepper said cheerily. The bell rang and we headed to American History.

Pepper kept chattering, and I indulged with a few grunts or "yeahs". Surprisingly, she seemed pretty popular. I don't know why, she didn't seem exceptional in anything. How wrong I was in my thinking. I sat down in the back and Pepper sat to the side of me. The new boy, Cody sat in front of me and turned around.

"Hey, I'm Cody," he said in a friendly tone. His green eyes showed he was excited.

"Ceci," I returned.

"Have we met before?" he asked, studying me.

"I saw you at the Parent Meeting," I said with a smile. In my peripheral vision I saw Pepper trying to hide a smile. I scowled, I wasn't here to make friends. He saw the scowl and looked discouraged. Thankfully, I didn't have to say anything. I was saved by the bell , so to speak. My first class in three years had started.

A/N: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! :)