I gave him a crazy look and he gave me one to match.
“This is the part where you tell me about yourself,” he prompted.
Gritting my teeth, I said, “You know about me. If you saw me on the news, you know who my parents are, and—”
“And I don’t care,” he finished. Brandon’s long strides easily kept pace though I was practically running to get away from him. “Yeah, I know about your folks. Everyone here does. And I bet you’re expecting to hear about it and, honey, you will. The Raveners want to kill you, but I’m not one of them.” Sincerity seeped into his voice. “Your parents didn’t take any money from mine, mostly because they don’t have any to give. I’ve got nothing against you.”
“You live in the OB,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
A proper look at Brandon picked up the worn scuffed shoes and mends in his pants and blazer.
He nodded. “So... we cool?”
I considered him. Brandon seemed genuine. His face wasn’t twisting up like the people passing by as they recognized me.
“You’re that Bancroft bitch!” someone spat. I didn’t bother to see who.
“Maybe,” I replied. “First, tell me what a Ravener is.”
A smile split his face. “No problem. I’ll be your informant. Tell you everything you need to know about this place.”
“So tell me.” I continued on to class, expecting him to keep up.
“Raveners are the kids from the Estate. They gave themselves that name.” He made a disgusted noise. “It’s not enough that they think they own this place, they run around like they own the whole town too. They’re the Raveners, and we’re just the ‘OB trash.’”
“Those guys are choking on so much smug superiority, it’s amazing they can force that bullshit out of their mouth.”
“I’m saying.” Brandon elbowed me. “That’s one thing you’ve got in your favor. Anyone who hates the Raveners is my new best friend.”
“Did they do something to you?”
“No,” he said, a little too quickly.
Which means yes.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. Brandon was from the other side of the gate but from my reckoning this shouldn’t have slowed him down much. He was cute with a capital C, U, T, and E. Strong jaw you could crack a walnut on. Thick, spiky black hair, and hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled.
He’d certainly be popular at my old school. Girls, and a few guys, would be lining up to get him out of those mended pants. Unless the people here were only interested in rich, model-types with personalities that belong in a dumpster.
Entirely possible.
Brandon gestured ahead of us with his chin. “You have Geske for homeroom? Because this is him.”
“Yeah, I’ve got him.”
He went ahead and held the door open for me, sweeping out his hand. “After you.”
Class was mostly filled up by students who moved a lot faster than me. They tossed their wet backpacks on their claimed desks and moaned to friends as they fussed with their hair.
“Take your seats, everyone,” said a stout, balding man standing at the whiteboard. “We’ll get started here in a few minutes.”
“Holy shit. Look,” someone hissed. “It’s her.”
I took a step, and like it was the cue they were waiting for, everyone sat down. They rushed to grab the seats by their friends, in the front, by the window, and everywhere else. In the time it took me to turn down the first row, there were no empty seats except for six at the very back.
My face was expressionless. They’d have to do better than this. I was planning to sit there anyway. Only an idiot would allow enemies at her back.
“What’s this? A common Bancroft snake has slithered into our habitat,” Destiny said as I neared her. “Keep an eye on your wallets.”
The people around her sniggered.
“Oh, look,” I said softly. “It’s a basic Hamilton chipmunk.”
Destiny’s smirk was gone in a snap. “Fuck you!”
“Miss Hamilton,” Geske barked. “What is the matter with you?”
“Sorry, sir.”
I choked on a snicker. She was too easy.
Walking on, I reached my new seat.
“You can’t sit there,” Brandon.
I stopped with my backpack hovering over the second desk in the back row. “Why not?”
Everyone turned to look at me. Even Mr. Geske stopped writing on the board to watch the exchange.
Brandon noticed the looks. “You just can’t,” he replied. “Not until we know how many of them are in the class.”
“All,” said Geske, his face blank.
“Then you definitely can’t sit there. The back row is for the Angels.”
“For the— What the hell are you talking about?” I looked to Geske. “Sir, are there assigned seats?”
He hesitated long enough that my confusion grew. “No,” he finally said. “No assigned seats.”
I opened my hand and the thud of my pack split the silence. “Then I’m good here.”
Brandon bit off a curse. “Seriously, guys,” he said to the class.
Everyone returned to their conversations, turning their backs. Geske picked up his marker.
“Brandon, sit,” I said. “It’s fine.”
He shook his head but said no more. Brandon walked around and took the seat next to the one in front of me. He was still shaking his head.
“Good morning, everyone,” Geske began. “You all know the rules of homeroom, but for the benefit of our new student, I’ll tell you that this time is for working quietly, preparing for the day, and relaying announcements. For some of you, I’m also your English teacher, so feel free to ask me questions about the assign...”
The door opened.
It wasn’t loud, thrown against the wall, or noticeable, yet Mr. Geske’s speech faded on his tongue.
Two dozen heads swiveled to the entrance and mine did too because where else would I look?
And then he walked in.
Beams of light broke through the blinds, covering him in strips of shadows. Sun. Shadows. Sun. Shadows. Both passing over his face as like met like. Brilliant platinum hair flowed from pitch-black roots and brushed his pale forehead.
Sun and shadows.
Light blue eyes blinked at me beneath thick, raven eyebrows until I continued the journey over his mouth to the bandages covering his neck, peeking through his shirt and, as he reached to brush back his hair, plastered on the back of his hand.
The guy nodded at Geske who looked a bit startled at the gesture. Then he moved out of the way and his replica strode into the room.
I blinked. But I wasn’t seeing double. The other guy looked like his twin, and therefore must have been. They resembled each other down to the bandages.
Their translucent eyes fixed on me, the twins sat on either side of my desk and kept staring... and staring... and staring.
Goose bumps prickled my skin. What is happening?
I snuck a glance at Brandon. Eyes bulging, he jerked his head at the desk in front of me, urging me to move.
There was no expression on their sculpted faces to give them away. They didn’t move except to blink.
“Welcome, Mr. Saito,” I heard Geske say. “Please, feel free to sit... anywhere.”