Broken: A YA Paranormal Romance Novel (Volume 1 of the Reflections Books)

Sometimes love finds you when you aren't looking for it.

The accident that forced Adri and her mother to move to a new high school also cost Adri her dad and sister. Adri just wants to blend in and buy herself time to grieve, but two of the most popular, gorgeous guys in school are about to take an inexplicable interest in her.

Adri will be forced into a world where the players aren't all human. She will be forced to choose between Brandon and Alec, and this time the wrong choice could get her killed.

Broken

by Dean Murray

Copyright 2011 by Dean Murray

Also by Dean Murray:

The Reflections Series

Broken (free)

Torn (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)

Splintered

Intrusion

Trapped

Forsaken

Riven

Driven

Lost

Marked

The Greater Darkness (Writing as Eldon Murphy)

A Darkness Mirrored (Writing as Eldon Murphy)

The Dark Reflections Series

Bound

Hunted

Ambushed

Shattered

The Guadel Chronicles

Frozen Prospects (free)

Thawed Fortunes (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)

Brittle Bonds

Shattered Ties

If you love Broken, you can get a free copy of the next book, Torn, by signing up for the author's mailing list.

Chapter 1

Stepping back out into the relentless desert sun, I once again wished we were still back in Minnesota, or at least that we were done moving. Then again I might as well have been wishing that Mom had decided on somewhere other than Utah, or that we'd had some long-lost relative die and leave us a small fortune, or even better that Dad and Cindi...

The thought was much too dangerous to complete. My breathing had already sped up, and my balance degenerated so quickly it was a small miracle I made it over to the U-Haul before I keeled over. I'd hated the battered vehicle that had spent the last two days carrying us west across I-80. It was hard to keep up the feeling though when it was the only thing protecting me from a concussion.

Half of the horizon was green and beautiful, not land-of-ten-thousand-lakes beautiful, but still not bad. I, of course, ended up on the wrong side of the truck; barren dirt and rocks, only occasionally relieved by scrubby plant life, as far as the eye could see.

I still didn't buy into my mom's oft-repeated claim. I'd told her before that Utah would be a lousy place to try and make her way as a photographer. Only very sick, masochistic people buy calendars with this kind of crap on it. Sane people take pictures of furry little animals romping around green landscapes and sell those.

That helped a little, my breathing was starting to slow back down, but that was too related to the other reasons we'd moved. I wasn't mentally back in safe territory still. I sought refuge in something even more mundane. Namely the fact that tomorrow I would have to go enroll in school and try to blend in with a bunch of small-town juniors who'd all probably known each other since they could walk.

Going to a new school after missing the first month of classes was a prospect likely to generate anxiety in the most outgoing of teenagers, and I was far from that, but it was a different kind of worry. As I mapped out all of the things that could, and probably would, go wrong, I could feel my heart slowly settle back down out of my throat.

If I were pretty or athletic I'd probably manage to fit right in. It always seemed like the kids who moved in partway through the year usually had some kind of instant in with the cool crowd, but that probably wouldn't happen for me. It wasn't that I didn't want to make friends; I just wasn't very good at it.

My equilibrium seemed to have returned, so I took a few unsteady steps around to the back of the truck. If I didn't return with a box soon Mom would rush out expecting the worst. Unless she got caught up visualizing some new project, in which case it would be hours before she thought to come check on me.

We'd moved the beds and most of the other heavy items in earlier, which helped explain my exhaustion, but that didn't make the pile of remaining items in the back of the truck any less foreboding. I decided to take the easy way out, and picked up a couple of blanket-wrapped mirrors.

I didn't unwrap either of them. That was dangerous too. The face that'd look back out of the glass would look almost more like hers than mine. Shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes still seemed to be all the rage, but mine were ruined by pale skin that burned instead of tanning, and a build that had retained its baby fat long after most of the other girls had started slimming down.

Those extra inches had evaporated recently, but of course it couldn't be a cause for celebration. When Mom surfaced enough to notice how much weight I'd lost, she worried I was developing an eating disorder. She couldn't seem to understand that I hated the new me more than she did. Cindi was the skinny one. I'd tried to make myself eat enough to fill back out, but I'd had a hard time remembering meals lately. It was easier to just cinch my pants up a little and avoid mirrors. Even when I did remember, the calories in didn't seem quite able to keep up with the calories my body routinely burned up. I guess panic attacks are harder on your system than most people realize.

My body had already started spiraling down to an attack again, but before I could get too wobbly, I made it inside the house. Mom met me at the bottom of the creaking stairs with a big smile on her tired face. The view from the rooms as the sun starts to set is even better than I thought it would be. Coming here was the best idea we've ever had.

Normally Mom's enthusiasm was fairly catching. You expect that kind of energy in a child; when it comes from an adult it's hard not to react in kind. It didn't manage to infect me this time, but it did help focus me on the here and now. I figured I owed her for that, so I tried to suppress my generally ungracious nature. I even let her lead me up the creaky stairs to show me the 'amazing view' for the third time.

Mom pulled the mirrors out of my hands as soon as I reached the larger bedroom, and nudged me towards the window. Admit it, Adri, we didn't get sunsets like this very often in Minnesota.

Adriana, I corrected automatically, trying to avoid thinking about where my nickname had come from. The sunset was beautiful, just starting to turn the sky pink as a prelude to the glorious oranges that would no doubt follow. It was the kind of thing that Mom was always trying to capture with her camera, but which never seemed to turn out quite as good as the real thing.

The sunset wasn't what captured my interest though, it was the greenery. Mom's room looked out to the west, the gorgeous side that reminded me of the place and people that would always be home. Mom carting me off to the middle of nowhere wasn't going to change that.

There was a huge tree on the far edge of the yard. It was a species I didn't recognize, but it still called to me. For a second I could almost hear a familiar voice whispering in my ear. Come on, Adri. Cindi's already climbed up to the second set of branches. You can do it, but you don't have to do it all by yourself, let me help you. My vision was growing blurry. I tried to wrench my thoughts back to safe territory, but it was too late, Dad's face was already filling up my vision.

Cindi and I looked nothing like Mom. She was all dark, wavy hair, olive skin and at five-three hadn't been able to kiss Dad unless he bent down. Dad was the one who gave us the blond hair and a shot at maybe hitting an average height. I could see his handsome face smiling at me now, trying to coax me up into the tree with Cindi. The vision lasted only as long as it took me to hit the floor.

I could always judge how long I'd been out by my mom's expression when I came to. That and whether or not I'd seriously injured myself on the way down. She looked concerned, but not desperate yet. Her cell phone was in her hand, but not yet flipped open. It probably hadn't been more than eight or nine minutes.

Adri, what just happened?

She knew already, the psychiatrist had some fancy name for it complete with a whole list of symptoms and psychobabble garbage. It all boiled down to the idea that the more Mom could get me to talk about it, the sooner I'd shake off the fainting spells. Yeah right. Talking didn't make anything better; it just let him rack up a bunch of fees while I was passed out on his couch.

I'm fine, Mom. I just got a little dizzy. I didn't want to talk to her. What I really wanted to do was enjoy the short immunity fainting usually granted me. For a minute or so I could think about Dad and Cindi with impunity.

I think Mom had figured that out though. Nothing I'd tried recently had been equal to the task of getting her to leave me alone, or at least in silence, right after an episode. She was probably worried I'd go back to how I was immediately after it all happened. I'd lost a couple of weeks there, alternately triggering a panic attack and then thinking about Dad or Cindi until the immunity wore off and another attack ensued.

Mom had flipped out. I'm not sure what brought me out of that black hole. I think maybe it was when I looked out the window one day and realized I'd somehow missed fall. Fall had always been Dad's favorite time. Cindi's had been spring--she hadn't minded the mud.

My immunity was wearing off; the racing heart was a sure sign. I focused back in on what Mom was saying.

...you were doing so well. Don't worry; this is just a little setback. You'll see. Being in a different environment will do wonders for us both.

I knew the rest of Mom's speech by heart, there was no reason to listen. Next she'd run through all of the famous, marginally well-known, or even really obscure photographers who got their start in the West. It didn't really matter.

I waited the requisite fifteen minutes and then went back out to the U-Haul and got another box. Mom followed me out this time. I guess she was worried again.

Even worries about school wouldn't cushion me now that I'd had an attack today. There was nothing left but to wrap myself in numbness as I traveled back and forth between the truck and the house in a slow-moving haze.

The truck was the smallest one they rented, and we hadn't come even close to filling it up, but it was still dark by the time we finished. Mom looked at the mass of boxes, groaned dramatically, and then went to the fridge and broke out the sandwiches we'd purchased when we stopped in town for directions.

An hour later our beds were made, and I had an outfit laid out for school the next day. The clothes weren't mine. They'd nearly triggered a full-scale blowup. Mom thought I just wanted new clothes. I knew we couldn't afford a new wardrobe just because I was temporarily skinny. I didn't mind wearing my old stuff, I just didn't want to wear Cin...wear her clothes. My near attack ended the conversation, albeit with my old clothes still packed away in some anonymous box.

Mom's enthusiasm couldn't be damped for long though. It had fully returned by the time she turned my light off. Have a good night, Adri...ana. You'll see, tomorrow will be like the start of a whole new life.

I kept the tears back until the door was shut, and then they came in a hot rush that left me depleted and sore. It was like Mom had already forgotten about the other half of our family.

Chapter 2

The sound of my alarm pulled me from an uneasy sleep, full of dreams where I was running in terror from some unseen horror. I couldn't decide whether I was happy to be free of them, or mad I had to get up.

My radio hadn't been in any of the boxes we'd unpacked last night, so I knew I'd have to get ready in silence. I forced myself out of bed regardless. Mom wouldn't be in to wake me up; she might not even be home.

It still wasn't light by the time I finished showering. The fact that my body was, at least partly, still on Minnesota time should have helped, but the morning was just as unbearable as normal.

Fighting back a yawn, I flipped on my bedroom light and examined the half-dozen boxes that might contain my clothes. I debated searching through them all, but it would just mean another fight if I did find them.

With a sigh of resignation I walked over to the chair where I'd left my selections from the night before, and pulled the faded jeans up my frail-looking legs. I finished up with a tank top, covered by a light blue blouse. All Cindi's stuff. Thoughts of her were just as dangerous as they'd been last night, but maybe I was getting a little better. Feeling like a traitor, I headed my skittering thoughts off before they could start affecting me physically, and focused on the next step in getting ready.

There was a lot more at stake this morning than last night. If I fell apart now I might not make it to school, and then I'd have all kinds of trouble calming Mom back down when she returned from wherever she'd gone.

My hair hung as limp and straight as always. No amount of styling ever made it look any better, just more contrived. Makeup was the same way. A touch here or there made me look marginally better, but I sincerely envied the girls who were skilled enough to transform their faces into something breathtaking after a session in the bathroom. Mom wasn't any help. Most days she didn't even put on mascara.

With the most depressing part of my routine now done, my mind wandered forward. It seemed only a second later that I was on the bus. I ignored the thought that Mom would be mad if she knew I'd skipped breakfast and hadn't brought any lunch. I pulled out my old, unabridged copy of Les Misérables.

Every so often I'd try to make it through Victor Hugo's weighty classic, but so far I'd never made it past Marius' introduction. Having just finished up Pride and Prejudice for the third time, I was once again due to try and make it through the written inspiration to some of my favorite music.

I hardly noticed the slow journey into town, instead caught up in a different time and place as Valjean's story started to unfold.

All too soon, the bus pulled up to a medium-sized, two-story brick building, and five kids my age stood up to leave. I followed them, my heart beating a little faster with each step. Other kids were trickling over to the door, either from one of the other two buses, or from the smattering of cars in the parking lot.

Before we'd even made it inside I'd realized just how much I stuck out. Shorts seemed to be the order of the day, knee-length khakis for the boys, and everything from mid-thigh on up for the girls. The only people in jeans seemed to be the debate-club types.

Silently groaning at my fashion faux pas, I located a sign pointing towards the office, and slipped around a couple of jocks who paused in their manly mock boxing match just long enough to check out the new girl. I silently hoped they slipped and hit each other in the nose.

I wandered down the white-walled corridor until I found another sign and turned left. There was a tall brunette already waiting, so I took a seat in one of the hard-plastic chairs. The other girl had shorts on just like everyone else, but hers were the shortest I'd seen yet. In Minnesota you could always pick out the alpha females by the length of their shorts, and this one seemed to think she was at the top of the food chain. That or a complete slut, but with her tan skin and perfect wavy hair, I figured it was probably the former. She didn't look like she had to put out to get attention.

Two minutes later, a smiling blond secretary came waddling out of what was probably the principal's office. I spent the time wondering if I should try to make small talk; the gorgeous girl spent it staring out the window.

The secretary took in the two of us, frowned almost imperceptibly at the length of the shorts and then signed a form for the other girl.

Determined to at least try and make friends, I started to smile as she turned towards me on her way out, but the expression died as soon as I met her flat green eyes. My heart immediately started to race, but she was already gone, moving with grace and confidence out of the suddenly too-small office.

I'd expected some degree of cliquishness from such a small-town, but this was bad. I'd never seen her before, so there wasn't any way it could be some kind of misunderstanding.

The secretary smoothed her blouse down over an ample stomach and smiled at me. I told myself I was just imagining that the smile never reached her eyes. She seemed to know who I was, and after identifying herself as Mrs. Pendely, proceeded to quiz me about which classes I'd been in at my last school. She stumbled a bit when I told her I hadn't enrolled in classes before moving. I didn't offer any additional information, so she tried to defuse the awkwardness by asking about electives.

I answered numbly, picking out classes nearly at random. I already knew a school this size wouldn't have anything truly interesting. I'd never been willing to dedicate the time required to learn a musical instrument. I've always been passable at drawing scenery, but anything more complicated than a stick figure gives me fits, so art was out too. Unless possibly the teacher liked Neolithic cave drawings.

By the time I surfaced from my musings, Mrs. Pendely had printed my schedule out on an ancient piece of machinery, handed me a map of the school and a locker assignment, and then dashed off a handwritten note to my first teacher.

I somehow found my first class before the bell rang. Mrs. Sorenson, my biology teacher, was a skinny old woman with curly white hair that looked like Greek paintings of Medusa. She made me introduce myself to the class and then let me slink over to my assigned seat.

I left the class even more depressed than I'd been when I woke up. I'd kind of known I'd have an incredible amount of material to catch up on from the first part of the semester. I hadn't anticipated that every other student was going to spend the class carefully ignoring me.

I'd never really fit in, but this was unbelievable. New students could always count on someone to offer to be their friends. I'd seen it a dozen times before as people had moved in. The really attractive people got drawn into the popular circles, less cool people were offered a place with the punks, the nerds, or at least with the drug users, who didn't care as much what you looked or acted like as long as you were hooked on something illegal.

I knew I had serious problems, but I didn't think they were obvious to everyone that looked at me. English was next, and odds were it would be a nearly exact repeat of Biology, possibly minus the awkward introduction.

The thin, distinguished looking teacher absently accepted my proffered form, starting a little when I didn't leave. Right then, I suppose you need a signature? The accent was so British I half-wanted to ask him how he ended up in Sanctuary.

I nodded, scanning his desk while I waited. Whethers, Mr. Whethers.

Right then, I believe there is a vacancy next to Ms. Samuels in the back.

People were still trickling into the room, so at least I was spared the full gantlet, but the few gazes I met were still unfriendly until I reached the last table.

The skinny-ish blond girl already at the table smiled at me as I sat down. Hi, I'm Britney.

I didn't know what to make of her. She looked like the type who was always on the fringe of the popular crowd. She was the girl who was the first to follow whatever fad happened to be in, and the first to turn on someone if it would make her just a tad more acceptable to her peers.

I mumbled a response, something that wasn't rude, but which couldn't be mistaken as pleading for friendship. Those kinds of girls loved to laugh at the 'poor, desperate, friendless' types behind our backs.

You must be Adri Paige. I hope people haven't been too terrible to you.

Adriana. I spent too much time correcting my mom. It came out a little rude. I would have tried to smooth things over but I was too busy trying to brace myself against the panic attack I was sure was coming. My vision swam for a moment, but all the practice compartmentalizing my mind seemed to be paying off.

I looked up. Britney looked a little crestfallen. She was probably deciding to ask for a different seat assignment after class.

Sorry about that. I don't really like it when people shorten my name. Bad associations with nicknames and all that.

Britney's smile was only a pale imitation of the brilliant thing she'd flashed a few moments previously, but it signaled a willingness to try and make small talk at least.

How did you know my name?

Oh, that's easy. Sanctuary is the smallest town on the face of the world. Anything out of the ordinary is instantly gossip fodder. I'll bet half the town knew you and your mom had purchased the old Anderson house before the ink was dry on the mortgage. The other half learned about it at church the next day.

I tried to smile, but I found it more than a little unnerving. Big city life hadn't been so intrusive. I hadn't even known my neighbors growing up. In Minneapolis the people you lived next to and the people you associated with were always kept properly segregated.

I tuned back into what Britney was saying just in time to answer a question with something safely non-committal. She didn't seem to need much in the way of responses to keep her talking. Probably for hours if she could get away with it.

I'm glad you feel the same. You'd think they'd be a little more welcoming. Instead it's like they go out of their way to make sure you know you don't really fit in. We've been here a year, and I still can't get invited to any of the really cool parties.

I'd never been invited to any parties, let alone cool ones. I'd never felt the lack too strongly, but I smiled and let Britney keep talking until Mr. Whethers realized it was time to start class.

I quickly gathered we'd be reading Wuthering Heights, a prospect that both elated and disappointed me. After seeing how far behind I was already in Biology, it was nice to know we'd be working on something I'd already been through twice. On the other hand I hadn't liked the novel the first time I'd read it, and when I'd gritted my teeth and sat down for a second attempt I'd found I liked it even less. Maybe I just lacked the maturity to appreciate Bronte's so-called masterpiece, but I couldn't stand that her characters were almost all really nasty people.

I wondered what else we'd be reading. I could always ask Britney, but the odds of her knowing anything useful seemed pretty slim. When the bell finally released us from an analysis of Heathcliff's early depravity, Britney asked what my next class was.

She was elated to find we were both headed to Algebra. As we trailed the other students out of the class, I wasn't so sure I was equally enthused. Nobody had said anything to either of us. It was starting to look like Britney was receiving just as much of a cold shoulder as I was. And she'd been here an entire year.

It was bad enough not fitting in because you preferred your own company over that of your peers. It sucked a lot more when you didn't have a choice.

I tried to amuse myself by people-watching with the half of my mind that wasn't paying attention to Britney's chatter as we went back to our lockers. We passed one of those gorgeous, skinny redheads who always look good without looking like they spent much time in front of the mirror, then Britney exchanged smiles with a couple of artificial blondes. I'd seen the type before in Minnesota, girls who have a perfectly acceptable figure, but who throw money into their wardrobes, makeovers and accessories in an effort to achieve the cutting-edge look, when they'd be much better off just picking outfits that didn't try to compete with the anorexic-looking beauty queens.

A surprisingly adorable-looking nerd in jeans and a tee-shirt ducked out of our way, and I felt a pang of sympathy. He was the kind of boy Mom pointed out when she surfaced from one of her projects. She hadn't ever managed to really pique my interest in any boy, but I could see how a few years from now, he'd probably be fairly popular among college girls.

Britney stopped before one of the top lockers and started spinning the tumbler. She was still relating some story about her old school, but suddenly I couldn't hear a word.

The crowd of students had drifted to the sides of the hall, like worshipers making way for a pair of pagan gods. Even so, there still wasn't quite room for them to walk side by side. The girl was leading. Her dark, wavy hair and flawless skin would've made her pretty in any crowd, but she also had perfectly symmetrical features and one of those bodies that required hours each day in the gym to maintain. I wanted to hate her. It didn't make any sense, she could hardly be blamed for taking care of herself, but it just didn't seem fair. Simply by being in the same town as us, she automatically made every other girl in school feel like bloated, heifers. Surely she was somehow cheating to be doing so well in the subtle, nasty game in which every high-school girl ranked herself against every other female.

I probably would've spent the rest of the day depressed, but once she was out of my line of sight I was able to see the boy following her. He was incredible. Just looking at him drove every other thought out of my mind.

If the girl who'd just walked by me without acknowledging the existence of any of us lesser beings was every boy's ideal physical specimen, the boy was every girl's dream. A gorgeous fantasy breathed into life by some merciful goddess, one who wanted to give us each a glimpse of what awaited good little girls in the afterlife.

Skin that was a gorgeous shade of tan, not at all artificial-looking, disappeared into the collar of a thin, light-blue button-down shirt. The cut of his clothing hinted at designer origins, but the garment was mostly notable for the way it stretched over a pair of broad shoulders that looked like they'd been chiseled from marble, or possibly cast in bronze.

My eyes made it as far as the equally impressive chest before I forced them upwards. Anyone built like that should be ugly to keep things in balance. Not him. His square jaw and even features were nothing less than perfection. If he ever chose to model, the editors of every major fashion magazine would have pulled out all the stops to land the contract for his debut appearance. The whole issue would have to be pictures of him though. No amount of airbrushing would suffice to allow other men to ever share the same magazine with him.

I expected to begin hyperventilating any second, but my lungs seemed frozen. My body should have been screaming for oxygen. Instead every part of me was screaming for more of that divine face. He'd been looking to his left; I pried my gaze away from his profile just long enough to take in a casual tangle of dark, curly hair, and then he was turning towards me.

Vague, traitorous hopes that the other side of his face was marred with a birthmark, or a series of ghastly scars evaporated away as I took in eyes just a few shades darker than the blue of his shirt. Somewhere a cosmic force was trying to fix a pair of large, intangible scales. Scales that'd been twisted into a mangled mess and then torn into two pieces.

I'd expected the shallow, narcissistic eyes of a runway model. Instead, the eyes that connected with mine hinted at depths I'd never even imagined existed.

My lips, acting of their own volition, started to pull back in a tentative smile, but before they could complete the action, the heart-wrenching eyes narrowed. The emotions swooping across the surreal face were too quick to identify, but the way he turned slightly away as he passed all but proved they'd been a close cousin to distaste.

Chapter 3

For a moment I was too busy mentally flogging myself to hear Britney's question.

Have you been to Vegas yet?

No, we just got here last night. And I'd been too busy making doe eyes at gorgeous boys who were completely out of my league to do anything like take a shopping trip.

Britney perked up at my answer. "We so have to go down there soon. It's the only place within an hour and a half where you can do any decent shopping."

Normally the prospect of driving for hours to watch someone else spend money I didn't have, sounded roughly as appealing as laying out naked at the pool until I had second-degree burns on my whole body. Then again, maybe burns wouldn't be so bad if they let me disappear into the anonymity of a large crowd in an actual city rather than dealing with hick hostility.

That sounds great; I can't wait to get out of this stupid town.

A couple of people started a bit, and I heard a locker slam shut with surprising force. The eavesdroppers were predictably pissed I was dissing their home, but I didn't care. It served them right. Don't listen in if you aren't prepared to hear something you won't like. As long as my comments hadn't offended my new pseudo-friend, I was just fine.

Britney laughed. "You said it. There is so nothing to do here. You can't even go hiking anymore..."

I'd already realized Britney wasn't the type to think twice before words actually left her mouth. Curious.

What do you mean we can't go hiking?

She was looking around at the other students. Nothing, come on. We're going to be late for class.

I followed without a word, even more intrigued now. 'Cool' people don't sweat tardiness and Britney really wanted to be cool.

A slender, frumpy-looking woman looked up from her desk as Britney and I walked in. I held up my form, which she took without reading it. No doubt something to ensure I know you're my newest student. Sit over there where you won't distract Britney from just how poorly she's doing in my class. There's an extra book on the shelves in the back.

Britney rolled her eyes as she went to her assigned desk, but I suspected she was actually relieved we'd been split up. Mrs. Campbell didn't seem like the kind of teacher you could get away with ignoring, so I retrieved an algebra book from the back of the room and sat at my desk.

Any thoughts about finding out why hiking was off limits quickly melted away once class started. Math had never been my favorite subject. I'd always managed to pull A's or at least A-'s, but hated all of the little nitpicky rules.

Unfortunately, after missing a whole month of classes, I was at least as bad off in Algebra as I was in Biology. Mrs. Campbell was solving problems with so many variables in them it was like watching alphabet soup spontaneously re-arrange itself on her overhead projector. Not only that, things were being squared and cubed, an operation with which I had only passing familiarity.

I struggled valiantly to understand what was going on. I got the sense the operations being applied to the formulas were being explained very well, I just didn't have the vocabulary to follow what she was saying.

By the time class finally ended I was fighting not to become emotional. The fact that Britney looked for a moment like she was debating whether or not to wait for me before finally stopping next to the door with her arms crossed, didn't help.

I threw my book and binder into my backpack and tromped up to the front of the classroom. Mrs. Campbell looked up when I reached her desk. Here's your form, among other things.

I verified that the top sheet had her signature on it, and then turned to go. She didn't let me get very far.

From your bewildered expression during class it appears you aren't transferring in from another school. I expect most of your other teachers are just letting you pick up from where they are now. I'm afraid this class builds on itself, so I'll be testing you on everything we've covered in the past month. I'm sure you've got a full class load, but we haven't gotten into anything truly difficult yet. The sooner we get you caught up, the better off you'll be. Shall we say a month from today?

The prospect of trying to catch up, all the while needing to master new material and deal with a full schedule of other classes, was too much. I felt tears rising to the surface even as my heartbeat sped up to near-panic attack levels. That was the last thing I needed, but I could only fight off so many worries at once, and I was quickly approaching my limits.

Now don't come unglued on me. The school has set aside some discretionary funds for a math tutoring lab after school every day. We're not fully staffed yet, but if you swing by we should be able to help clear up any questions you might have. You'll have to do the majority of the work. I expect you to actually read your math book, but if you give it an honest effort I'm sure you'll be just fine.

That helped a little. It was still a daunting prospect, but knowing I had somewhere to turn for help comforted me more than I would have expected. I mustered a half-hearted grin and followed Britney out into the hall.

She's a complete monster. None of the other teachers are nearly as strict as Campbell. Making you catch up on all that homework is ridiculous.

My silence seemed to leave my new friend at a loss for words. I guess she was used to people agreeing with everything she said. I didn't like to lie though, so when I didn't agree with someone I tended not to say anything. I guess I didn't think my new task was as unreasonable as it'd first appeared?

On the plus side, at least we'll both be at the math lab together. I've had to spend an hour there every evening since Dad found out I had the class low on the first test. Stupid Internet. I can't believe they give our parents an account where they can see how we do on every test.

Britney had my sympathy there. Nobody liked their parents knowing too much about their school life, academic or otherwise. Wow, they talked about doing that at my last school, but I wouldn't have expected a town this small to have something like that implemented.

We dropped our books off and started towards the cafeteria. Being back at my locker, back where I'd seen Mr. Gorgeous, made me wonder about him. Britney had to ask me a question twice before I realized she'd been talking.

Sorry, I was thinking about something.

Hmm, what distracted you?

I debated dodging the question, but it was normal to talk about boys. There was a guy and a girl who walked by earlier when we were at your locker.

A knowing look flashed across Britney's face. Oh, their royal highnesses Alec and Jasmin. They're pretty distracting all right, but don't waste your time. They'll never waste a thought on you or me, or pretty much anyone.

The way she said their names implied they were a couple. Even if they weren't, she was probably right about not getting my hopes up. Especially considering the way Alec had looked at me there at the end. Despite my best efforts the question still slipped out. They're together then?

Britney smirked. You really are masochistic, aren't you? That's the rumor. Nobody really seems to know, at least nobody who's talking, but they're almost always together. You really shouldn't go there; he's brutal when it comes to breaking girls' hearts.

There was a story there, but I wasn't about to ask now and expose myself to further ridicule.

Britney was oddly quiet as we entered the lunch room. I was a little hungry, but the pangs were a distant kind of discomfort. The real suffering for not eating wouldn't come into play until we hit the tutoring lab. Oh well, when I got home ravenous and ate a decent-sized meal Mom would probably be ecstatic. Or too wrapped up in some project to even notice. It was hard enough anticipating what I was going to do from day to day. Trying to figure Mom out was truly futile.

Being held up by Mrs. Campbell at least had one advantage; the line for Britney to get food was nearly non-existent. Britney was talking again,