Disclaimer: I don't technically own Clara or Drew. I definitely do not own Uncle Brakken or Jezebel or Jim Goddard or other notable Night World Characters that may show up over the course of the story.

Chapter 1

Clara balanced on the upper uneven bar, her legs splayed in the American Split. She had been practicing for hours, but the instructor wouldn't let her stop. Slowly taking a deep breath, she dipped forward into a seamless stride circle. She looped around the bar three times before coming to a rest.

"Tuck your chest in!" The instructor was calling out to Lizzie, Clara's best friend.

The two were here for private lessons. They'd long since left the regular classes to move onto bigger and better things. Clara knew she was too old to ever make it into the Olympics. That didn't really matter to her all that much. It was the art that she loved. Ever since she was a little girl, she had watched the gymnasts on TV and had said, "Mommy, I want to be like that!"

The sport had come easily to her. Slowly, she brought her legs together and dipped below the bar. She worked herself into a lazy tap swing, moving back and forth until she had picked up momentum. She thrust forward, letting go of the bar. She was completely upside down. She twisted one hundred eighty degrees mid-air and caught the lower bar, tucking her knees to her chest. She swirled around the bar until her momentum ceased. Slowly she lowered her feet to the ground.

A look at the clock on the far wall told her it was time to leave. The kiddie classes would be starting soon. Besides, Clara needed to hurry home and help her parents get ready for the barbeque tonight. They would be celebrating her graduation in a week. She moved toward the dressing room.

Clara pulled a towel to her forehead and wiped the beads of sweat away. She could imagine what she looked like, her auburn hair hanging limply in her ponytail, the back slick from sweat. Lizzie had once told her that she looked like a medieval princess with her fine-bone appearance and regal jaw line. Clara was less likely to agree. She looked like exactly what she was: Clara Goddard. It was hard to change a reputation in her school once pegged. And Clara had been pegged as a shy girl. Smart and shy. Few knew she was also a budding gymnast.

For San Francisco, Miada High was a small school. If Clara had ended up in one of the inner city schools, she supposed she could have made a name for herself. But to do that, she would have to learn how to shed her old skin. It was hard to lose old habits.

She pulled out a pair of jeans and a loose tee-shirt.

"Man, I'm pooped," Lizzie stated, coming into the change room behind her. "Dringer was really working us hard today."

"Yeah," Clara nodded. "It was good."

Lizzie frowned at her. "You can't find fault with anything, can you?"

Clara thought about for a minute. "Of course I can," she said, shrugging into her tee-shirt. "I don't like burned marshmallows or dog bites or sneezing during the middle of a test."

Lizzie snorted, pulling out a form-fitting top. Lizzie was the height of fashion, no matter where she was. Clara, on the other hand, just liked to blend into the crowd. She didn't know how they'd ever become friends. But it was a good arrangement. Lizzie got all the attention and Clara got to be ignored. She liked being ignored. Especially by boys. If one came up and started to talk to her, she got all tongue-tied and frazzled. It was so embarrassing.

Clara was a completely different person in the gym. It was her chance to show off. She would never wear something so daring as she would in the gym. It was her place to just break free and be beautiful for once. And it was the only place she could do so without feeling exposed.

As soon as she left the gym, she always donned clothes that would make her blend in. The regular tee-shirts that every sporty girl wore.

"No, something real," Lizzie urged. "Like you don't hate anyone. Name one person you actually dislike."

"Drew Redfern," Clara responded automatically.

It was her standard response. The boy gave her the creeps. Oh, he was good-looking enough with his short dark hair and enigmatic smile. But his green eyes were just too cold, too calculating to make her feel comfortable. She was just glad that he had never placed them in her direction.

He had a history of getting into trouble. Mostly just minor crimes like destruction of property. He and a few friends had bowled over some mailboxes for fun last year. A whole street had to buy new boxes just to receive their mail. He and his friends also had a reputation for slitting tires and throwing baseballs through people's windows. It was only his luck that Drew hadn't been to jail yet. That, or the fact that his father was amazingly rich. No one knew exactly why.

"You always say that," Lizzie shook her head with a dreamy look. "He's a great kisser, you know."

Lizzie had dated him for about a month last year. Then, all of the sudden, he had broken the relationship short. Not that it was any surprised. He changed girlfriends regularly, so no one thought much about it. Lizzie had been heart-broken. She probably still had a crush on him even though she was busy pursuing about three other guys.

Clara shook her head and slipped the backpack onto her shoulders. Honestly, she felt Lizzie was better off without him. They began to leave the change room, chatting amiably. As they moved back into the gym, Clara stopped stalk still. Her heart increased and a flush entered her cheeks.

She was looking through the windows that lined the one wall. They showed the adjacent gym just next to theirs. The badminton nets had been set up, just as they were every Tuesday and the class was filing in.

She searched the players and her heart caught in her throat as she found the one she was looking for. She caught sight of Brakken's dark head and bright smile as he joked with a buddy, punching him in the arm.

Lizzie groaned, pulling Clara along. "Come on, you have that barbeque remember?"

"Just a few moments," Clara protested but Lizzie wouldn't take no for an answer. She pulled her out into the parking lot and Clara moved along with no more protests. She didn't want to appear like she was staring—even though that's clearly what she was doing.

"Why don't you just ask him out, if you like him that much?" Lizzie asked as soon as they had stepped through the double-doors and out into the street.

"You can't be serious," she said, giving her friend a scared look. "I've barely said more than a few words to him all year."

"And whose fault is that?" Lizzie replied. She failed to understand how hard this was on Clara. But even Lizzie, the bubbly and sociable, boy crazy one had not had a date with Brakken Redfern. He was legend around Miada High.

He was nothing like his twin brother. Sure, they had a lot of similar features, but that's where the similarities ended. Brakken's eyes were a warm and clear blue. He never got into trouble and was the star athlete of just about every sport in school. Not to mention the teachers loved him because he was so bright.

And the girls loved him because he was so friendly, not to mention good-looking. He had just broken up with his long standing girlfriend Jen Abforth. Jen was a rather strange girl. People said she was all into that new agey herbs and stones to change moods and heal colds. But people generally liked her because she was Brakken's girlfriend.

Clara couldn't help the rising hope that had filled her the moment Jen was gone from the picture. But it really didn't make a difference, since she would never do anything about it.

"Okay, well then flirt with him or something," Lizzie said, twirling a brown strand around her finger. "It's not as if you're bad looking or anything. The boys would look at you more if you would wear something cute once and a while."

"I can't!" Clara replied, giving her another horrified look. She was talking about flirting with Brakken, but she would have had the same reaction to dressing to impress.

She rummaged in her pocket for her keys and realized that they weren't there. She dropped her stuff beside an impatiently waiting Lizzie. "Just a minute!" she said. "I forgot my keys my locker."

She hurried back toward the recreational facility, hoping they'd still be there when she got back. She ducked into the change room and headed for the row of orange lockers on the wall. She located her keys and slipped them into her pocket.

She ran back of the locker room. Her mother would be expecting her soon. She got scolded for running across the newly waxed gym with her running shoes on.

"Sorry!" She apologized, blazing through the door into the reception area. She slammed right into a figure. The guy seemed unaffected by her slight form, but running into him had been like ramming into a steel wall. Clara began to fall backward, but a pair of arms reached out and caught her, bringing her to her feet.

"Sorry!" she apologized automatically to the guy's jersey. She looked up then and the blood rushed to her cheeks. This is so embarrassing! She thought, preoccupied with how red her cheeks were.

"H-hi Brakken," was all she could manage.

His smile was kind—but it was almost unnerving the way he was looking at her. It was almost as if he knew what was running through her head at the moment. It was a good thing he couldn't, because then she would have been even more embarrassed.

"Hey," he replied. "Didn't mean to get in the way of your rush."

"Oh, no…problem," she was smiling while trying to think of something else to say. She wracked her brains and not a dang thought would come to her head. The more she wracked her brains, the more clueless she became. The smile was starting to hurt her cheeks.

Finally, he rescued her from her embarrassment. "Hey, you're Clara, aren't you? Clara Goddard. Lizzie's friend."

"Yeah," she smiled again. Her cheek muscles were going to get a lot of exercise before the end of this conversation. Again, she was left floundering for something to say.

"And you're Brakken," she said.

"Yeah, you said that earlier," a faint smile crinkled his eyes.

She felt like hyperventilating. He was probably laughing at her. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap…

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Hey, no problem," he replied as friendly as ever. "You're probably frazzled from being in a hurry. Hey don't let me stop you."

"Great," She said as she began to back away and then realized what she had just said. "No. I didn't mean great to get away from you. Just…oh, never mind."

He did chuckle this time.

"No worries," he said teasingly, tapping my forehead. "I know what's going on up here, anyway."

Yeah. Right. But at least he was making a joke out of it so that she wouldn't feel so bad. He was really nice, just like all the girls said.

"Bye," She decided to exit before she made even more of a fool out of herself.

"See you in school," he replied.

She practically fled.