A/N

It always bothered me that Evie didn't trust Jack more. He's so excellent with puzzles, and she has a whopper of a mystery on her hands, not to mention a huge lack of self confidence. It killed me that she never talked to him and I found myself turning over in my head all the what ifs…and I started writing…and haven't really stopped yet. So far I've got over 100,000 words. I've totally shocked myself. The story turned M, cause that's just how Jack is… I kept some parts of the original book, writing it as more of a novel, keeping to the original story line, coming back to the main plot line and spinning or jumping off and then coming back again, so some parts are similar or the same. This is partly because it's difficult to impossible to improve on perfection, and partly because only two of the six books have been written. Therefore, I'm afraid to deviate too much. I want it to continue after the third book comes out in January. This is mostly an exercise to maintain sanity until the third book comes out. That cliffhanger was seriously evil.

So, large portions of the first couple chapters are from the book, and visions and dreams are mostly the same, but with some variations, same major plot points, etc. But some other big changes. And I kept lots and lots of folks alive. Why not. If I'm gonna rewrite the book, I'm gonna make Evie her own kind of superhero. Selena can be a kind of Laura-Croft Tomb-Raider. Evie's gonna beat that hand's down.

Day 6 B.F.

Here's what I know.

I live in Sterling, Louisiana with my mom on the second richest plantation in the area. My dad died when I was two. That's all the normal stuff. The trouble comes with my Grandmother. I don't actually remember her anymore.

When I was 8, my Gran kidnapped me. She got me all the way to the Texas state line before they caught her. I don't remember what we talked about on the drive or why she chose to do it. I know my mom thinks that she and her mother and her mother before her were part of some kind of cult. She won't talk about it. I know Gran was grooming me for this from the time I was little.

I don't remember any of this. I'm lucky to remember my name after last summer.

I used to have visions and delusions about the end of the world, about scary, crazy things happening, about plants…doing things for me. I drew pictures of what I saw. They scared me so much that I told mom. It got so bad I barely made it through the end of school last year.

Then Mom decided I must have succumbed to Gran's teachings. She took me to a place in Georgia over the summer called Child's Last Chance. It was how she was going to cure me. I don't remember what they were going to cure me of. I don't remember what Gran taught me. So I guess it must have worked. They called it reprogramming. I called it brainwashing.

Only it didn't work.

Because I'm still dreaming. I take the drugs. But I still have the dreams. The cure didn't take. I'll never tell them, because they wouldn't have let me leave and Mom would just send me back. So now I'm back home.

My plan is to get through the next two years of High School, and get out of Sterling. Two years and out.

Monday Morning, First day of school. I woke up tired. I'm always tired. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, wishing I could will some life into my expression. I smile. My red lips droop. My cornflower blue eyes look as sad as I feel. My thick, long blond hair hangs with a heavyness that weights my limbs. I used to be full of energy. Not anymore. These days between my new medication to suppress the visions and hallucinations, and the nightmares I had every night, I was one tired Evie. I slump my five foot frame to the closet and force myself to dress. Even this is a chore. My clothes are fantastic. I've been looking forward to wearing this outfit for an age.

Mom comes in my room to check on me and scan my room for contraband. Too late. My sketchbook was already in my backpack. She's like a pretty blond Sherlock Holmes sniffing around for clues that I've still got a screw loose. She won't find anything. I've learned from last spring.

It's sad. I used to believe I could trust Mom with most anything. That she would fix it if anything went really wrong. Yeah, tried that. She sent me to CLC. Child's Last Chance.

I only left CLC by the skin of my teeth. Three doctors pronounced me cured. Two said I would still be having delusions and psychotic episodes or "visions" and it was only a matter of time before my next break down. So I'm out, but Mom's watching like a hawk and I'm as Stepford perfect Evie as I can be.

She asks me sometimes, "Why don't you laugh anymore?" Um, really? Does being betrayed by your mother, sent to a mental facility, drugged and hypnotized until you can barely remember who you are, dreaming of an evil witch who cackles with glee, (Seriously! Glee!) as she tortures and kills people in hideously disgusting ways with plants of all things, sound like a life that would make someone joyful? I don't tell her I'm still dreaming of the red witch every night. I'd just go right back to CLC hell.

So yeah, our relationship has suffered a bit. Love without trust is kind of hard. She doesn't trust me either. Not really. She wants to, and she tries to, she probably tells herself that she does, but deep down, probably not. If she had, she wouldn't have sent me to CLC.

I've tried to be objective about this, because I love my mom. So objectively, I can understand that, from the very vaguest memories (those are all I have now, all else has been brainwashed away) that the things my Gran tried to teach me, and the cult type things her mother before her and so on, that these were very scary things. Any sane person would not want her daughter to have anything to do with them whatsoever. I remember something about Gran wanting me to hurt other kids…

On the other hand, I went to my mom because I was having visions of the world ending…and she had me committed. She tells me, "I'm so glad you're back honey. It's been so quiet at Haven without you."

Quiet? I yearned to say, "Really Karen? You know what's worse than quiet? Flourescent bulbs crackling twenty-four hours a day in the center. Or maybe the sound of my cutter roommate weeping as she attacked her thigh with a spork? How about disconnected laughter with no punchline?

But then, that last one had been me.

In the end, I said nothing about the center, repeating what had become my mantra since leaving the center. Just two years and out.

We talk about what I've told my friends. No I haven't told them about CLC. Hell no I'm not going to. Is SHE the crazy one now? Yes Brandon is still my boyfriend. No, I'm not telling how I really managed to keep him on the hook all summer.

Outside among the Sugar Cane fields. I love being outside. The plants have always, but always called to me. Something about them is so soothing, comforting. I take a moment to run my hands over the stalks as I wait for Brandon. Is it my imagination, or do the leaves curl around my hands, like a baby's hand would curl around its' mother's?

I've realized since I've left CLC that everyone has formed an opinion about my visions and such, except me. Up until now, I've just been doing as I was told and looking up to the adults in my life to tell me what I should do, who have all let me down.

My grandmother, who I haven't seen or talked to since she tried to kidnap me when I was eight, from what I can deduce from what mom and the doctors told me because I don't remember anymore, her opinion was something so seriously scary that Mom sent me to CLC. Seriously, they literally deprogrammed me.

How scary is that?

All I can remember is sitting at a table at the beginning of the summer, pumped full of drugs as they asked me a single question. "Evie, do you remember why you must reject your Grandmother's teaching?"

And that's it. That's all she wrote. Well, that and some of the visions from before the program and being kidnapped when I was eight. But not all of those either. Some of those are erased too. It's amazing how much it can scare you when someone screws with your mind. Not a shocker that I really, really don't want to go back. Two years and out.

Mom and the doctor's opinion is that the visions, hallucinations, and dreams are all harmful and delusional, just having them is bad, period. Well, the problem with that is that I'm having them anyway, even with the drugs. And if that's the case, then this means that I belong in a place like CLC for life. Shudder So that's OUT.

Unfortunately my release from CLC is conditional upon two things, medication compliance and zero contact with my grandmother. So I'll have to stay on my meds for now, for all the good they do.

Which means I need to form my own opinion…and here's what I've come up with.

I've decided that some things, like my affinity with plants, are harmless, even comforting, maybe even helpful. And if that's the case, what would be the harm?

Other things, like my nightmares of the red witch, who laughs with evil glee as she destroys others viciously using the plants I love, are evil. Those things I detest and always will. So I'd like to get those things out and as far away from myself as possible. But there are other signs or visions, that are dangerous, ominous, that feel like warnings. Things that if they are real and if I don't pay attention to them, could be catastrophic.

But the real question behind all of this is, how do I know for sure if any of it is real? Stroking the cane again and feeling the leaf curl around my hand I think I need to start with plant somehow…it's a puzzle.

Brandon's car pulls up and I hop in. Brandon is the catch of our parish. He's a senior, the quarterback, and rich. Not to mention he's handsome, good-tempered, drives a red convertible Porsche, and treats me exceedingly sweet. When I got back into town last week from CLC hell, he took me to the movies, on dates, brought me flowers, in general showed me a great time. He's a fabulous guy!

There's only one problem. I hadn't noticed it last spring really. It's hard to put my finger on what it is exactly. I can only sum it up as…meh.

He doesn't notice the effort I went into dressing up today. I spent two weeks planning this outfit and two days in Atlanta after I got out of CLC purchasing it. The dress and ribbon are a cornflower blue that match my eyes.

The dress and shoes are designer as is my watch. My diamond studs are in my ears and my watch is a work of art. The dress and shoes cost me over four hundred dollars. I tell myself it doesn't matter that he didn't notice my outfit, or even compliment my looks at all. It's all ok. Because Brandon is mine. He stayed faithful to me all summer just like I planned.

Of course he did, because I promised him my V card after I turned 16…which is in a week. Now that it's time to pay up, I'm questioning whether that was such a brilliant idea. I'm in such a total funk this morning. Brandon notices this of course. Doesn't notice my outfit, but notices my bad mood. Why am I such a bad faker?

When he asks again why I'm so quiet, I tell him it's because of my weird dreams last night. (aka nightmares of the Red Witch)

When I asked Brandon once if he'd ever had nightmares, he'd looked at me blankly, unable to remember a single one. That was the thing about Brandon. He was the most happy-go-lucky boy I'd ever known. He was a lot like a cross between a huge teddy bear and a happy puppy dog all rolled into one.

I'd held onto the hope while I was at CLC that his normal could drag me back from my crazy visions land brink. Which was why I'd worried about him finding another girl while I was locked away over the summer and made the really really desperate decision to promise him my V card.

"Well, I know how to put my girl in a good mood." He gave me his mischievous grin.

I was desperate and happy to let myself be charmed. "Oh yeah, big guy? How's that?"

He pulled off the road under the shade of a pecan tree, tires popping the fallen pecans. After waiting for the dust to pass us, he pressed a button and put down the convertible top. "How fast you wanna go, Eves?"

Few things exhilarated me more than flying down the highway with the top down. This most certainly would put me in a great mood and I was so grateful to Brandon for thinking of this. I didn't care a bit about my hair style being utterly ruined. I'd braid in a fishtail over my shoulder once we got to school.

I told him, "Kick her in the guts." with a huge grin.

He pealed out, the engine purring with power. I raised my hands, threw back my head and yelled, "Faster!"

He grinned at me, happy to see my mood changed for the better, his mission accomplished. Such a good boyfriend.

The dim months of misery at CLC were forgotten next to this, the sun, the wind, Brandon sliding me excited grins. He was right; this was just what I needed. Leave it to my teddy bear football player to make me feel carefree and sane again, just what I so desperately needed, especially after those awful dreams last night.

And didn't that deserve a kiss?

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I clambered up on my knees, tugging my dress up a couple of inches so I could lean over to him. I pressed my lips against the smooth-shaven skin of his cheek. "Just what the doctor ordered, Brand."

"You know it!"

I kissed his broad jaw, then – as my experienced best friend Melissa had instructed – I nuzzled his ear, letting him feel my breath.

"Ah, Evie," he rasped. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

I was getting the idea. He'd already been reminding me of that promise I'd made before leaving for deportment school. If we were still going out when I turned 16 (I was a young junior), I would play my V card. My birthday was next Monday-

"What the hell does that guy want?" he suddenly exclaimed.

I drew my head back from Brandon, saw he was glancing past me. I darted a look back, and my stomach plummeted.

A guy on a motorcycle had pulled right next to us, keeping pace with the car, checking me out. His helmet had a tinted visor so I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was staring at my ass.

First instinct? Drop my butt in the seat, willing my body to disappear into the upholstery.

Second instinct? Stay where I was and glare at the pervert. This was my morning, my laughter, my fast drive in my boyfriend's luxury sport's car.

After a summer spent in fluorescent hell, I needed this morning. I may not have deserved this morning but I needed it with a desperation bordering on tears. What I did not need was some pervert making me feel like a piece of ass and ruining my morning.

When I twisted around to glare over my shoulder, I saw the guy's helmet had dipped, attention definitely on my ass. Then he slowly raised his head, as if he was raking his gaze over every inch of me.

It felt like hours passed before he reached my eyes. Then the thought occurred to me that my underwear might be showing! My cheeks flushed and I sat back down, pulled my hair out of my eyes and we stared at each other for so long that I wondered when he was going to run off the road. Just who was behind that mask?

Then I wondered, if riding in a sports car with the top down was a rush, what would it be like to ride on a motorcycle like that? With nothing around you except the wind? Or holding on tightly to the person in front of you, in an endless hug that lasted for hours?

Then he gave me a curt nod and sped past us, expertly dodging a pothole. Two more motorcycles followed, each carrying two people. I consoled myself with the knowledge I'd probably never see them again.

Brandon parked at the back of the lot to preserve his paint job. I carried my own bag into school, groaning at the weight of my books. Looked like I'd be schlepping my own stuff on an extremely hot day. I'd hoped Brandon would take a hint when I groaned. He didn't.

I told myself I liked this. He was a modern man and I was a modern woman. Equality. I didn't really like it. I hated it. I was tiny and my books were heavy and it was hot. But maybe, just maybe, if I told myself this enough, it would sink in enough and make it true. Besides, I was home and out of CLC hell, and my boyfriend had given me a fast ride in his car with the top down. What did I have to be upset about. Life was good, right?

As we walked toward the school and got closer in, one of the football players held up the football to pass it to Brandon. Brandon looked at me, "Do you mind, Eves?"

Brandon was like a golden retriever when it came to football. He just couldn't resist it and it made him so happy. I liked Brandon happy, and my guy deserved to be happy, especially after trying so hard to cheer me up this morning.

So I said, "Go ahead, Brandon. Have fun."

"You're the best, Eves. I figure even you can make it the rest of the way by yourself right?"

Sigh. Brandon could land some real zingers every now and then. And it must be said, I was directionally challenged. Heaven help me when I started driving. I was definitely going to need a car with GPS. I made my way to the main entrance and passed a rosebush with double blooms of poppy red, my favorite color. A breeze blew, making it seem like the flowers swayed to face me.

Ever since I could remember I had loved, been nearly obsessed with plant life. I drew roses, oaks, vine crops and berry briars compulsively, fascinated with their shapes, their blooms, their defenses.

My eyelids would go to half mast from the scent of freshly tilled pastureland.

Which was part of my problem. I wasn't normal.

Teenage girls should be obsessed with boys and clothes, not with the smell of dirt or the admirable deviousness of briars.

Come, touch…but you'll pay a price.

Just then my best friend Melissa and sister from another mister, better known to me and everyone as Mel, sharply parked her metallic blue Beamer just inches from me, jumped out and said loudly and with lots of attitude, "And that's how you park a car, bitches." That was her new thing. Calling everyone bitches.

She always leapt before she looked, had never acquainted herself with embarrassment and was a stranger to shame. We'd been best friends for a decade, but without a doubt, I was the brains of that operation.

Her mom was the guidance councilor at school. Her Dad had paid for Sterling High's new library because Mrs. Warren, her mom, needed a hobby. Most parents figured that if Melissa was a product of Mrs. Warren's parenting skills, they shouldn't put too much stock in her advice.

Today Melissa was dressed prepster chic, as were most students at this school. I wore a blue dress, name brand heels and watch, diamond stud earrings. Melissa was wearing a red baby doll t-shirt and a crisp navy skirt, her hair having a matching navy bow, bright red lipstick. Both our outfits probably totaled over a grand together. Melissa probably would never wear hers again.

Melissa popped her trunk to pull out her designer handbag and ask if Spencer Stephens III, Brand's best friend, was looking at her. She was desperate to hook up with him. Mel thought he needed a "nudge" in the right direction. Unfortunately, Mel didn't know how to nudge. Her version of a nudge was what most others would define as a hard punch. When I had asked Brand about setting Mel up with Spence, he had laughed and said, "As soon as you house break her." Note to self: Put in another request today..

Two more of our friends joined us. Grace Anne and Catherine Ashley, also wearing prepster chic and real jewelry. The four of us were popular cheerleaders. I was proud of it.

Last week we had exchanged stories of our summer vacations. Mel had been modeling in Paris. Grace had gone to Hawaii. Catherine had toured New Zealand. I'd repeatedly said my summer was the most boring one ever, not a single pic on my phone, and finally they'd stopped asking. The official story was deportment school. After all, in the south, you can never train your daughters soon enough for stuff like that right? I was actually amazed that everyone actually bought the story. No one questioned it though.

Something in me had changed, beyond the crazy obvious. I found myself paying more attention to those people who were usually the quiet ones who were more unnoticed. Our school wasn't like the usual ones with cliques and unpopular kids. I was friendly to everyone. No one suffered a wardrobe malfunction on my watch. I was always friendly to everyone. This was my little queendom. No one ever sat alone during my lunch period. I had even shut down the sale of freshman elevator passes on our one-story campus.

I wondered if I would be as friendly to people if they didn't fit into my little prepster chic world. I liked to think that I would. I was a friendly person. What would all these people think if they knew I was the misfit here. That underneath all the glitz and glimmer, I didn't fit in anymore? Did anyone really fit in? Were we all our own brand of weird? Melissa was a weird that I loved because it was all attitude and she worked it and didn't care what anyone thought. If only I could be so self assured.

Then something happened. A sudden rumble of motorcycles that made everyone go silent, like a needle scratch on an old record. No way they'd be the same ones from Brand an my drive earlier. They'd passed us…

Three motorcycles pulled in, the same five kids as earlier. Each of them were dressed in dark clothes. Among our dresses and khaki pants, they stood out like bruises. The bikes all had mismatched parts.

Were they built from scratch, from junkyard parts, or stolen? I didn't know, but I didn't want to judge.

"Who are they?" I asked quietly .

Grace answered, "Haven't you heard? They're a bunch of juvies from Basin High School."

"If they're from Basin High School then why are they here? How do you know they're juvies? Fact or rumor?" I didn't like rumors circulating like facts if I could help it.

"They're attending Sterling!" Catherine said. "Because of that new bridge they built across the levee, the kids at the outer edge of the basin are now closer to us than to their old school."

Grace added, "I know at least some of them are." As though because some of them were they all might as well be.

Before the bridge, the Cajuns would have had to drive all the way around the swamp to get here, about fifty miles or so. Until the last decade or so, the folks there had been pretty isolated and all still spoke Cajun French.

Though I'd been there but rarely, I spoke the language fluently. All of Haven's farm help came from there and my crazy ole grandmother still had friends from there. She'd taken me visiting with her when she still lived with us and those hazy memories were the clearest ones I had of her…which wasn't saying much. I remembered more about visiting the area, a place of unbelievable poverty, but also warm welcomes and hospitality. In other words, they didn't have much, but what they had was shared. Rumors said the Basin was a place filled with hot-blooded women, hard-fighting men, and unbelievable poverty. In this, rumors were not wrong.

Mel said, "My mom had to go to an emergency faculty meeting last night about how best to acclimate them or something like that."

I actually really felt for this group of kids. To go from their Cajun, poor, and adamantly Catholic parish to our rich town of Louisiana Protestants…?

Culture clash, round one. Why can't we all just get along? Wait? Wasn't that a song? I'd have to look that up later.

This was actually happening. Not only would I have to see guy who'd shamelessly ogled me, I'd have to go to school with him.

Something was happening within me. I was utterly emotionally conflicted. Embarrassed, enraged, empathetic, and shockingly, slightly turned on. What was wrong with me?

I was embarrassed because he'd been looking at my ass and I'd just stayed there and let him look for the longest time. I was mad because he'd been leering at my ass. Wasn't that rude? But he'd given me a nod before he left. Was that supposed to mean something? What was that supposed to mean? I hadn't a clue.

I was sympathetic because I knew the place he was coming from. When the Cajuns were working our farm in the summer I'd follow them around in my little boots, I still walked out in the fields actually, listening to them speak. I knew the language, not that they knew that. I liked the people, genuinely liked them. They worked hard, they were, rougher, tougher, more abrasive, but I liked them. So I knew where he was coming from and I knew he'd…they'd have a hard time fitting in here.

I was going to ignore the turned on part since I didn't know what to do with that. But now I had a dilemma. If I was friendly, would he think I was coming on to him since he'd…ogled me and I'd essentially let him. And what would everyone else think of that?

But them I realized, none of my friends knew about that ogling thing. They weren't in the car with me. And Brandon wasn't here. If the biker got the wrong idea, I could always set him down hard later today. Ok. Now that I had a plan…

While I'd been deliberating all this the biker in question stood tall, over six feet high, even taller than Brand. He had on scuffed boots, worn jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched tight over his chest.

He reached for his helmet…I waited. He yanked it off, shook out his hair, and raised his head. My lips parted.

Mel voiced my thoughts: "I kind of wasn't expecting that."

A tangle of jet-black hair fell over his forehead, with jutting tousles above his ears. His face was deeply tanned, with a lantern jaw and strong chin. He looked to be older than eighteen. Overall his features were pleasing, handsome even. I was absurdly glad I hadn't been able to see his face when he'd been driving beside Brandon's car. I'd been unable to look away when I couldn't see his face. Now that I could… Brandon's looks were Abercrombie boy model beautiful. This boy was rugged, handsome, something in his overall quality shouted power, maybe even danger, almost like the briars I loved to draw…

Beside him was a couple on a bike – a kid in camo pants and a girl in a pleather miniskirt. The big boy helped her off the bike, easily swinging her up -

"Wheh-hell," Catherine said, "good to know her panties are hot pink. Shocked she's wearing them, actually. Classy with a capital K."

Mel nodded thoughtfully. "I finally understand who buys vajazzling kits."

Grace Anne, proud wearer of a purity ring, screwed her face up into an expression of distaste. "Surely she's going to get sent home with a skirt that short."

Not to mention her midriff-baring shirt, which read: I GOT BOURBON-FACED ON SHIT STREET!

Once he'd set the girl on her feet, she took off her helmet, revealing long chestnut hair and a face made up to an embarrassing degree with glaring fuchsia lipstick.

The skinny boy who'd been driving her removed his own helmet. He had dark blond hair and a long face which wasn't un handsome but reminded me of a fox. When he revved his bike and startled two passersby and his friends laughed, it struck me that they'd decided that the best defense was a good offense.

They knew they'd never fit in here. They knew with their records, at least some of them, most of the student body would write them off before they'd ever stepped foot on campus.

We could cement that decision now…or we could change their minds and try and finesse their entry. We were the most popular girls on campus. What we said went. If we made the boys feel welcome and maybe gave the girl a few additions to her wardrobe, this could all go down much smoother.

I knew what choice the other cheerleaders would make. They were against. Just like everyone else would be. Like I probably should be. But something about those Cajuns always called to me. I'd walked in the fields beside their kind at harvest. I'd probably played next to one of their uncles, maybe even one of their dad's. I liked Cajuns, even if it wasn't popular in Sterling to do so. I just had to present my argument right. Besides, with my crazy, I certainly wasn't any better than they were, even if that was still a secret…at least for now.

Two years and out.

Quickly I turned to my posse. "Alright ladies here's the sitch," I said, talking softly and quickly,"we've only got one shot to smooth this over and that shot is now. Those five kids walked on to this campus knowing they wouldn't fit in here. They knew they'd never have the money to dress to fit in, so they walked in thinking their best defense was a good offense. They dressed in their best, "We don't give a crap what you think of us." clothes and they've walked in throwing attitude and ready to raise hell."

"Now, we can go over there and throw attitude and trash talk right back which they will throw back, considering the looks of those boys, about a thousand times worse…, or we can do what we can to be welcoming…" Oh the disgusted looks on Catherine and Grace Anne's faces.

Mel's face looked interested and maybe…proud? "Yes I know that will be hard, but they may not be as bad as they seem right now. Remember, they are trying to show us their worst 'cause they are sure they will never fit in. Now they may not, but we will never know if we don't give them the benefit of the doubt. Alright?"

"Is this what they teach you at deportment school sister?" Mel asked with a grin.

"What diplomacy? Among other things, yes." I hadn't a clue.

"Alright, let's go make them feel welcome." Grace Anne sounded reluctant but resigned.

The four of us made our way to the Cajuns. On our way, we passed others speculating about the newcomers:

"My maid comes from the Basin. She said all five of them are juvies with records."

"I heard the tall boy knifed two guys in the French Quarter. He was just released from a years stint in a cage-the-rage correctional center!"

"The blond boy is a sophomore for the third try…"

Mel and I exchanged a look. Ok. Looked like my welcoming mission might be just a smidge more difficult than I'd anticipated…by a few miles.

Before the Weasel/fox decided to scare any more students and kill off my inclination to be friendly I pulled the girls along a little faster.

The tall one dug a flask from his back pocket and took a swig from it. On school grounds? As we walked up, his eyes fixed on me. His fingers were circled with white medical tape for some reason. His eyes were a vivid gray against his tanned skin, and they were roaming over my face and figure like he hadn't seen a girl in years – or hadn't seen me minutes ago.

With a sunny smile, I said, "Welcome to Sterling High! I'm Evie, This is Mel, Grace Anne and Catherine. If you need any assistance around campus, we'd be happy to help you out. And you all are?

I made particular eye contact with the girl, smiling sincerely at her, knowing she'd likely hear lots of cruel remarks today and hoping to start her day off well. I made brief eye contact will all the boys smiling at them too, not wanting them to think I was insincere.

They looked at us a bit surprised. I was looking at the girl who seemed shyly hopeful. Weasel/fox regained his tongue first. He leered at me. "Well, ain't you sweet, Evie. I'm Lionel." He pronounced it Lie-nell. "And this here's my podna Jackson Deveaux, also known as Jack Daniels. We doan need no ass-is-tance finding-"

Jack Daniels? Because of the flask?

Jackson rapidly said in Cajun, "Idiot, someone is actually welcoming us to campus and you're going to mess that up?"

Lionell quickly said back, "They're lying bitches. You don't actually believe them?"

Jackson answered, "Maybe they are and maybe they're not, time will tell."

Finally Jackson turned to us and spoke in English. "Sorry about that. I'm Jack. This is Clotile, Tee-Bo, and Gaston. We appreciate the warm welcome." The boys each nodded to us in turn. Tee-bo gave us a friendly smile. Gaston seemed uncertain what to think about us, suspicious maybe. But Jack? The warmth in Jack's eyes left no doubt in my mind that he was appreciative of…something. I just wasn't entirely sure exactly what. Feeling out of my depths, I focused on Clotile.

"Hi all, Hi Clotile, it's good to meet you." I smiled at her big and she gave me a tentative one back. I spoke directly to her. "If you 'd like to sit with someone at lunch or in class or need to know where something is, I'm happy to be there for you. Alright?"

"Okay." She answered with a smile.

"How about me jolie Evie? Does that offer extend to me too?" Jackson asked, his gaze raking my face and form.

Um…totally flustered. I blushed. He called me pretty. I was practically panting. What was wrong with me?! I had a boyfriend!

"Um, sure, of course."

Suddenly realizing I was the only one of my posse doing any talking I looked at my girls sharply, especially Mel. She was watching the interplay with utter fascination. She came to herself with a start.

"Right! We're all happy to help if you'd like any so just give us a holler if you need anything, anytime!" And then we got out of there!

Mel and the other girls hovered around me as we walked to the doors quickly. "What was that about? What were they talking about before, and what was all that with Jackson calling you pretty and looking at you like he was going to eat you up! I spent the summer in Paris and I learned some French, but I couldn't follow any of that."

I didn't want it widely known that I spoke Cajun but I quietly translated for the other girls with the gist that Lionel wasn't won over yet but the others were giving us a chance and Lionel wouldn't mess it up for the others unless the four of us stabbed them in the back. So we needed to at least try and get some of the others in the student body to be a little welcoming, or a little less hostile, to the new members.

Homeroom put my offer of friendship to the test immediately. I picked a seat next to the window. I always picked window seats. Jackson and Clotile were both in my homeroom. After a short conversation in French they both headed for me. Clotile sat behind me and Jackson sat beside her, giving her the preferred position. I smiled again, wondering what I could do to break the ice. I could speak Cajun, but I wanted to save my big guns for later. I'd always wondered about riding a motorcycle…

I turned around and asked Clotile in a whisper and she leaned closer so she could hear me, "So, I have to admit, when I saw you guys today, I was wondering, what's it like riding a motorcycle?" I raised my brows in question and excitement. "I'll bet it's a fun rush huh?" I asked with a grin.

She smiled back. "Cest magnific. It's such a thrill. You have to try it. I'm sure you'd love it. I'd bet Jack would give you a ride any time." she offered with a glance at him and a sly grin at me.

"Two problems with that." I admitted with a sad smile."First, my mom hates motorcycles and I think I'd get grounded for life if I got on one, so while I'd really like to, I'm not sure I'd dare to risk it…" I waited to see if she understood that I had parental authority issues, not that I was dissing her or Jack. She nodded impatiently. I continued, "And two, I have a boyfriend, so again, while I'd enjoy the ride, considering how Jackson was looking at me…I don't know that Brandon would be alright with that."

She giggled. She'd noticed how Jackson was looking at me alright. The teacher walked in to start the whole welcome thing but I gave her hand a squeeze and said, "I'm glad you're here. You need anything, talk to me. Okay?"

"Ouais." Yeah.

I smiled at her and turned around then glanced at Jack. His eyes on me were so hot…they were practically burning.

A few minutes later the TA passed out our schedules for the semester and then our school laptop computers. I'd turned my head to the window to see Clotile's reflection. I'd already seen Jack stare in astonishment at his. Clotile had smoothed her fingers over hers, wistfully murmering, "Quel une chose jolie." -such a pretty thing. As if it was the most precious possession she'd ever owned.

With an involuntary pang, I'd realized it probably was. Their town was basically a big swamp filled with leaky roofed shacks, many without power. I wondered if her home had power…or if the assignments at this school would be a step up from the ones at her old school. Maybe I could take the friend thing a bit farther…I'd have to ask Mom though. She was keeping me on a short leash. But the voices were quieter when there were more people around and home was really quiet so studying was hard.

I'd see if she was interested. I'd asked Mel before, but Mel was never interested in studying. NEVER. I turned around. "Clotile?" She pried her eyes from her jolie computer to look at me. "Would you maybe like to come over to my place and study after school sometime?"

Maybe while she was there I could get her to try on some clothes…and if she wore something like that, I'd just tell mom before hand that I was going to try and give her to try on some of my clothes in my closet that I wasn't wearing anymore.

I didn't have a sister. Mel was my sister from another mister and she was too tall to swap clothes with. Clotile looked like we could get away with that. Mom might be thrilled that I was making an effort to be more social, regardless of who I was being social with. If worse came to worse, I'd be honest. It was easier to study with others than by myself and I wanted my grades to be good. We both wanted that.

A drop in grades was one of the warning signs the CLC had warned about. I'd only left by the skin of my teeth. 3 against 2 vote. Nope, not nervous about how this year was going to go at all. Only petrified.

Clotile glanced at Jack who asked in Cajun, "What are you two talking about?" Clotile replied in Cajun, "She asked me if I'd like to go to her house sometime to study. You think she's serious?"

"Probably. She seems sincere. Tell her yes."

"I don't have a ride. I don't know what classes we have together."

"You know I'll always give you a ride anywhere you want to go girl. You don't even have to ask. Compare your schedules with the girl."

Uh oh. Jack showing up wasn't something that thrilled me…well, ok, technically speaking it did thrill me, but only in a bad way…I think. Maybe. I had no idea. But I had a boyfriend, so it must be in a bad way, right? What was it about this boy?!

She got all excited then and turned to me, "I'd like that. Jack said he could give me a ride to your place. Let's compare our schedules."

Once she'd said that, Jack moved his chair and schedule over to us to compare his schedule too. Clotile and I had Homeroom, lunch. Earth Sciences, and Maths. But Jackson and I…We had Homeroom, English, free period, lunch, History, and Earth Sciences. How was that POSSIBLE?! The universe hated me. Jackson just gave me a wicked smirk and sat back in his chair with a very satisfied grin that we would be seeing lots of each other. Was it bad that I was so soon regretting my offer to be friendly?

Jackson walked with me to English since we were going to the same place. I had offered to show him around after all. We'd dropped Clotile off at her History class first. Jack had carried her books for her. She'd hugged her laptop as we'd walked. My presence next to her seemed to keep some of the more snide comments at bay, but there were lots of looks. She needed a date with my closet at the first possible opportunity if she wasn't too proud to take it. Jack put her bag by the desk she'd chosen by the window…was my desk of choice rubbing off on her? And then we left, walking quickly to make it to our next class before the bell.

I'd walked with Jackson to our English class. He'd offered to carry my bag. I really wanted to let him…but I had a boyfriend who was the catch of our parish and if word got out that the new boy was carrying my bag, well, S would HTF or something. When I thanked him but refused, Jack shrugged it off I was already getting a ton of weird looks but I brazened through it. I saw my fellow varsity cheerleaders also guiding the newbies along so it wasn't like I was the only one.

In English Jack motioned for me to precede him. I chose a window seat of course, and, Jackson sat behind me. I hadn't smiled or looked at him. I said nothing. I didn't even breathe. I was just waiting.

He leaned forward. "You were nice to Clotile. You mean all of that? About being her friend, sitting with her, studying with her and such? You for real?"

I looked at the window and his reflection in it, "Of course! I'd never play her like that."

He leaned in closer, so I could feel his breath on my neck when he spoke next since my hair was braided away over my shoulder. "And what about what you said to me, about being friendly to me? Did you mean that too joile fille?"

My breath came out with a whoosh. Yep. That's what I was waiting for. The shoe dropping right there. The Tall Dark and Dangerous Cajun who had ogled my ass this morning, who'd I'd chosen to be friendly this morning to in a gesture of good will, was now sitting behind me in class, breathing on my neck and flirting with me.

Only, the problem was, I wasn't normal. So this didn't creep me out, or even make me angry as it probably should. No. It aroused me! Right there! In class!

Seriously! My cheeks got flushed. I started breathing heavy. It felt as though the classroom temperature shot up at least ten or fifteen degrees.

What! Was! The! Matter with me! I had a boyfriend! A wonderful amazing boyfriend that everyone envied me for. Yes there was that meh problem that I hadn't figured out yet, and there was that v card problem but other than that, things were great!

So why was I about to start sweating over this Cajun…juvie? I thought to myself desperately, "You have got to shut this thing down Evie. Right freaking now!"

Then he smelled me, and his low rumbling voice made chill bumps break out down my arms as he spoke in my ear, "I have never smelled anyone who smelled as delicious as you. That perfume…is it Honeysuckle?"

"I," my voice cracked and I had to clear it before I whispered back, "I don't wear perfume." I said it shortly and harshly, trying to end the conversation. The teacher was giving his beginning year talk, passing out papers.

"You must be wearing something." There was a note of teasing in his voice I didn't know what to do with, like he knew something I didn't. I didn't like it. Especially since I didn't want to be turned on by him.

"I'm not wearing anything!" I told him, trying to get him to leave me alone. Then I froze, realizing what I'd…just…said. Oh…I'd just walked right into that one. He'd set me up!

"My fondest wish bebe." His voice was filled with laughter at my expense.

Ok. That was enough! Now, not only had he leered at me, he was laughing at me. I sat, fuming.

When the teacher was occupied I turned around to hiss at Jackson, "Alright, that's enough. I was trying to be nice. But I already have a boyfriend. I don't need you flirting with me and poking fun at me and ogling my ass. I have enough going on in my life to deal with. I don't need this too!

"A blonde pulls up her skirt and bends over for me? I'm goan to pay attention." He shot back at me, arms crossed on his desk and leaning forward, his face so very close to mine. Fortunately his words were too soft for anyone else to hear, I hoped.

I whispered, "I was not bending over for you."

He stared at me, again with the staring! Finally he nodded, but then he said, "we've got something between us, a Chemistry, a connection like this is rare. You let me know if you ever want to explore it."

Then he sat back, and he left me alone. But I could feel his eyes on me.

My last class of the day, I exchanged phone numbers with Clotile, programming hers in my cell phone. She'd looked at mine with wide eyes, but hadn't touched, even when I'd offered. Maybe another time. I told her I had to OK study dates and stuff with Mom, that she was really strict. Which was true. Hopefully we could work out something after school Tuesday or Wednesday. She seemed excited and so was I. Maybe if I had a study buddy I could actually study instead of hearing voices and getting distracted. She asked if Jackson could come since he was her ride and he had so many classes with me. I said I'd ask Mom.

So now that Brandon had dropped me home…it was time to ask Mom.

"Hi Evie, how was school?"

"It went great. No problems. I think it will be a good year. Um, did you hear we have some new students, from across the levee?"

"I think I heard something about that but nothing detailed. Why?"

Oh, good. Maybe she hadn't heard about the juvie records. That would be great! "Well, because of the bridge, there are five kids from the parish across the levee that have moved to our school. They really stand out. They're from the Cajun area? You know?" She nodded so I went on. "There are four boys and a girl. Well, the girl is in three of my classes, Home room, English and Math."

I put my bag on the kitchen table and sat down. Mom sat too. "When they were passing out the school issued laptops in home room, the girl, her name is Clotile, she skimmed her hands across the top and said in a soft voice, "Quel une chose jolie," such a pretty thing. And then I thought about some of the homes over there, how they don't even have power, and wondered if she'd even be able to use the computer at her home. I know she could probably go to the library."

"But there's another thing. You know how everyone dresses at school and how everyone dresses across the levee. It's such a huge difference. I talked Mel, Grace Anne and Caroline into being nice to the Cajuns for today, but it's such a huge culture clash for everyone. You know how cruel girls can be, especially to girls who dress different. She's about my size, and I have a ton of clothes, lots of them that I don't even wear anymore."

"So here's the thing, it's honestly easier for me to study around other people, but Mel and I don't have any classes together this year and she hates to study anyway. Brandon's not in my year and he has his own stuff to keep up with and football practices (and that cherry countdown widget that he's developed)

so I was hoping that you'd be ok with letting Clotile come over here to study and maybe one of the boys too because she needs a ride." She wouldn't like the next part but I'd better tell her or it would come back to bite me later. I started speaking rapid fire now trying to get my idea out before she shut me down. I wasn't even looking at her now. "I know you don't like them but he rides a motorcycle and it it's a huge problem we can meet at a library but I think it would work better here because between the three of us we have the same teachers for four subjects and you know it's really important that I keep my grades up and I think I could do that better in a study group than by myself and even though they're from another school they seem pretty smart so I…"

"Honey, honey.." Mom put her hands on mine as I had my eyes locked on my hands where the fidgeted with my back pack straps on the table.

"I think you've had a good idea, and I'm proud of you for reaching out to the new kids. I'm sure it wasn't an easy or a popular decision."

I just looked at her, not sure I was really comprehending what was happening. I was sure she'd tell me I needed quiet and serenity to keep the voices at bay. More CLC style. Something other than this.

"Really?"

"Sure. We can try it for a while at least, see how it works out for a few weeks. If the study group is good for your grades. It will be good for you to make new friends, and to help the new kids fit in.

I thought about warning her again, considering Clotile's attire today and the whole Juvie record thing, but I decided to let it go and phone Clotile instead to set up a study date for after school the next day. She was excited! So was I! I gave her the address before I hung up and told her Jackson was welcome to come and bring his books too.

Then I changed my clothes, made cookie dough for the group tomorrow, and tried to study. I ended up doing my reading outside by the cane fields. In spite of the potential for delusions, the plants were comforting.