Zoey placed her tray down at the usual table, only the crowd around it seemed a lot more bigger than normal. It seemed that Art, Harry and Nate had temporarily ditched their popular jock clique (as they sat at a table not that far away, loudly discussing game tactics and whether chess could really be considered a sport) and taken up hanging about with the usual crowd. There were a few explanations for this; one, Art is Rebecca's sister, and they get on reasonably well. Two, Nate's going out with Nicole, it's only natural he'd want to sit with his girlfriend in the morning and three, well, Zoey wasn't quite sure, but she couldn't really be bothered to question it.

Another unusual fixture, she noticed upon sitting down, was that Logan was sitting beside Kristen, cutting up her salad and stirring her compressed apple juice every now and then so it didn't get puréed. Dana sat at the other side of Kristen, glowering dangerously them both. Rebecca and Nicole seemed to be in deep discussion about the latest Tom Cruise movie. Chase was asking Quinn a chemistry query he was worried about. The only person not involved in a conversation was Michael, who was too busy pressing the buttons on his PSP as fast as he possibly could while occasionally shouting things like 'Yes!' and 'Die! Why won't you die!'

And something else that seemed to catch Zoey's eye was that Glen Davis – the guy who had made such a fuss about going to a dance with Zoey ages ago, then continued to vie for affections since then – was sitting beside Rebecca, his fingers entwined in hers as he joined in Nicole and Rebecca's conversation (obviously not commenting on how hot Tom Cruise had become with age, but instead of the killer effects on the alien's lasers and the crumbling people).

"So Zoey –"

Zoey tore her attention away from Glen to see Art, obviously leaving the conversation Nate and Harry were having, facing her, and smiling his toothpaste perfect smile.

Don't think that charm will work on me Art.

"– I heard about the fashion show, it would be awesome to work with you."

Zoey wanted to say something smart like 'if you make the cut,' but there wasn't really any point in saying such a ridiculous thing when Art modeled for Jean Paul Gaultier the month before.

"Mmm," she settled on replying, concentrating on her croissant.

Why does he suddenly want to talk to me again? What's going on? It's not like last year when –

She didn't like to think about it. She'd been foolish, she'd lead him on. But now she thought about it, he must've known. It was all around the school by dawn break.

But it doesn't have to happen again.

"Miss Sinclair, you're late."

Rebecca looked at the clock on the wall. It was five and a half past nine. The class started at five past. No one had even got their books out yet, in fact, the majority of the class were still chatting and beginning to sit down. Jerome hurried her to her seat with a pained sort of expression.

Oh so he hates me? Cause I think life science is totally lame?

"He hates you, by the way," Chase whispered, watching Jerome return to the front of the class, "he was muttering at the staff table about how he heard you telling Zo life sci was such a lame subject."

"Only cause I'm partners with Señior Jackass over there," she jabbed her thumb angrily in the direction of Logan, who was just strolling in the class room now. She noticed that Jerome didn't bother telling Logan he was forty five seconds late.

"Since we have all arrived, I suppose later rather than never," he glared at Rebecca at this point, where she scoffed furiously, looking over at Lisa-Something who had just arrived on the word 'never.' "Jerome thinks we should all get to work on our projects. It'll be fascinating to watch your co-operation with each other, because you're living, and this is what this science is all about. And Jerome'll be able to see the good seeds helping out the bad seeds," he finished his instruction with another glance in Rebecca's direction. She sunk moodily into her seat.

To her complete horror, she heard a chair scrape closer towards her desk. So close in fact, she could smell the mixed scent of freshly-washed t-shirt, Right Guard Clear Protect deodorant and a touch of what seemed to be Dior Addict 2. Even close enough, for her to see the familiar, toned, tan arm stretch out onto her table and steal her pen.

"Morning gorgeous," Logan slipped the pen between his fingers, "how's Miss Sinclair this morning?"

"Late," Jerome hissed, stalking past and looking down at Rebecca snootily.

"Why are you wearing girls perfume?" She said coldly, sniffing a few extra times, just to be sure she wasn't mistaken.

"I'm not, I was just with this girl before class," he smiled cockily, "she was covered in the stuff."

You big-headed idiot, crap-faced cocky little shitake, sad, annoying –

"Are you hissing under your breath?" He asked with a frown at her face.

"Get lost Logan," she hissed, shifting up in her seat and taking out a notebook, flipping open the cardboard front page so hard that it banged on the desk alarmingly. "Let's just do this project. And then we're done."

"What shall we do it on?" he shimmied his seat closer. She scraped hers away loudly.

"How about, 'Logan Reese's total lack of capacity to give Rebecca Sinclair her space?'" She hissed furiously.

"I can't help it," he shrugged, "you're a pretty girl."

Rebecca looked like she was about to vomit for a second. She turned green, grabbed onto the side of the desk then eased herself back to her normal, enviable perma-tan colour.

"Are you going to repay the compliment?"

She stared at him then burst out laughing.

"I would, but you know one thing I learnt at the nunnery?"

"What?"

"'Thou shalt not lie.'"

Nicole art class was unsupervised. She debated on whether to go tell Dean Rivers that Miss Hannily hadn't showed for class.

I mean, what if she like, fell and broke her hip? And she's rolling about on her back like a turtle right now and I'm not even calling for help?

But she decided against the motion when she was Jackson Rennison sitting in the desk near the door. Sure, he was doing what everybody else should have been doing in an art class – doing art – but it appeared he didn't want to be disturbed in whatever picture he was doing. If Miss Hannily came in he'd have to stop, and if he ever found out it was Nicole that fetched her well…she knew Jackson didn't beat up girls but he'd seen the way he trampled that TLS Academy kid during last week's basketball game.

And she quite fancied keeping all her arm bones in tact, funnily enough.

The class was buzzing and loud. They had all split into little groups, throwing things, chatting loudly, shrieking mentally (except Jackson, who sat on his own, drawing). None of Nicole's friends took art. Zoey and Kristen had taken home economics. Rebecca and Dana had opted for life science. Quinn had laboratory time (not that Nicole was entirely sure she'd hang out with Quinn even if she did take art). Chase and Logan were both cooped up in a life science room. Michael, well, no one really knew what classes Michael went to now, but he would sure be accompanied by his Doom X. And when Doom X was rockin', no one came a-knockin'.

Glen Davis used to sit at Nicole's table, but only when they were doing exams. Besides, just because she talked to him over breakfast about War of the Worlds did not mean they were suddenly hanging buddies. Glen sat over with the Alpha Males, Nate and Art (she thought maybe Harry had taken life science as a soft option).

"Nicole!"

She turned at the sound of her name.

Speak of the devil.

Glen was beckoning her over, patting the seat beside him invitingly. Obediently, she trudged across and sat in the seat. Girls stared at her enviously.

"Hey," Art drawled to no one in particular, "where's Miss Hannily?"

He certainly isn't the sharpest pin in the tin if he just noticed that now, but hey. He's cute as hell.

"Sick, maybe," Nate shrugged, "but it doesn't matter, we can have a free period, I mean, art exam and all."

Nicole tried not to blush when Nate smiled over at her. She'd never met anyone in her life so fictional. She'd read about tanned surfer-gods with honey golden skin, perfect sandy blonde hair and big, emerald green eyes but she never thought things like that were real.

But hey, I never read about those fantastic cheekbones either.

"Are you going out with my sister?" Art asked suddenly, looking up from the table and straight at Glen. Nicole and Nate slyly stared at Glen too, curious for an answer.

"I asked her," he said, failing to hide the blush that was creeping on his cheeks, "and she said she'd think about it."

"So why were you holding hands with her at breakfast?" Art persisted. Glen shrugged.

"I dunno, I just grabbed it."

Art didn't seem at all satisfied by this, and returned to looking down at the table muttering something under his breath.

"Don't tell me you have a problem with it!" Glen laughed, punching Art in the shoulder playfully. Art didn't laugh.

"It's just that you screw up a lot of girls," he said, a deadly look glinting in his sapphire blue eyes, "Zoey, Lisa-Something, Susan-Whatchermicallit, Elisha Brantley…I could go on, but if you dare even make Rebecca shed one tear," he looked away for a second thoughtfully. "I'll rip your head off."