“Wait, so you’re really Lucinda Price?” the pale girl asked. She had very small white teeth and was using them to hold a couple of sequin-tipped bobby pins while she twisted a few dark tendrils into little knots. “As in Luce-and-Daniel? As in the girl who just came from that awful school in Alabama—”
“Georgia.” Luce sort of nodded.
“Same thing. Ohmigod, what was Cam like? I saw him once at this death metal concert … of course, I was too nervous to introduce myself. Not that you’d be interested in Cam, because obviously—Daniel!” She trilled a laugh. “I’m Dawn, b-t-dubs. This is Jasmine.”
“Hi,” Luce said slowly. This was new. “Um …”
“Don’t mind her, she just drank, like, eleven coffees.” Jasmine spoke about three times more slowly than Dawn did. “What she means is we’re excited to meet you. We always say how you and Daniel are, like, the greatest love story. Ever.”
“Seriously?” Luce cracked her knuckles.
“Are you kidding?” Dawn asked, though Luce kept expecting them to be the ones working up to some kind of joke. “All that dying again and again? Okay, does it make you want him even more? I bet it does! And ohhh, when that fire that burns you up”—she closed her eyes, put a hand over her stomach, then brushed it up her body, clasping a fist over her heart. “My mom used to tell me the story when I was a little girl.”
Luce was shocked. She glanced around the busy terrace, wondering whether anyone could overhear them. Speaking of burning up, her cheeks must be beet red right now.
An iron bell rang from the roof of the mess hall to signal the end of breakfast, and Luce was glad to see that everyone else had other things to focus on. Like getting to class.
“Your mom used to tell you what story?” Luce asked slowly. “About me and Daniel?”
“Just some of the highlights,” Dawn said, opening her eyes. “Does it feel like a hot flash? Like a menopause kind of thing, not that you would know—”
Jasmine smacked Dawn on the arm. “Did you just compare Luce’s unbridled passion to a hot flash?”
“Sorry.” Dawn giggled. “I’m just fascinated. It sounds so totally romantic and awesome. I’m envious—in a good way!”
“Envious that I die every time I try to get with the guy of my dreams?” Luce hunched up her shoulders. “It’s actually kind of a buzz kill.”
“Tell that to the girl whose only kiss to date was with Ira Frank of the Irritable Bowel Syndrome.” Jasmine gestured teasingly at Dawn.
When Luce didn’t laugh, Dawn and Jasmine filled in with a placating giggle, as if they thought she was just being modest. Luce had never been on the receiving end of one of those giggles before.
“What exactly did your mom say?” Luce asked.
“Oh, just the usual stuff: The war broke out, shit hit the fan, and when they drew a line in the clouds, Daniel was all ‘Nothing can tear us apart,’ and that pissed everyone off. ’Course it’s my favorite part of the story. So now your love has to suffer this eternal punishment where you still desperately want each other but you can’t, like, you know—”
“But in some lives they can.” Jasmine corrected Dawn, then winked impishly at Luce, who almost couldn’t move from the shock of hearing all of this.
“No way!” Dawn flung out a hand dismissively. “The whole point is that she bursts into flames when she—” Seeing Luce’s horrified expression, Dawn winced. “Sorry. Not what you want to hear.”
Jasmine cleared her throat and leaned in. “My older sister was telling me this one story from your past that I swear would—”
“Oooh!” Dawn linked her arm through Luce’s, as if this knowledge—knowledge that Luce had no access to—made her a more desirable friend. This was maddening. Luce was fiercely embarrassed. And, okay, a little excited. And absolutely unsure whether any of it was true. One thing was sure: Luce was suddenly kind of … famous. But it felt strange. Like she was one of those unnamed bimbos next to the It-boy movie star in a paparazzi photo.
“You guys!” Jasmine was pointing exaggeratedly down at the clock on her phone. “We’re so super-late! We’ve got to book it to class.”
Luce grimaced, quickly grabbing her backpack. She had no idea what class she had first, or where to find it, or how to take Jasmine and Dawn’s enthusiasm. She hadn’t seen such extended, eager smiles since—well, maybe ever.
“Do either of you know how I figure out where my first class is? I don’t think I got a schedule.”
“Duh,” Dawn said. “Follow us. We’re all together. All the time! It’s so fun.”
The two girls walked with Luce, one on either side, and took her on a winding tour between the tables of other kids finishing their breakfasts. Despite being “so super-late,” both Jasmine and Dawn practically sauntered across the freshly cut grass.
Luce thought about asking these girls what was up with Shelby, but she didn’t want to start off looking like a gossip. Besides, the girls seemed nice and everything, but it wasn’t like Luce needed to make any new best friends. She had to keep reminding herself: This was only temporary.
Temporary, but still stunningly beautiful. The three of them walked along the hydrangea path, which curved around the mess hall. Dawn was chattering about something, but Luce couldn’t take her eyes off the bluffs’ dramatic edge, how abruptly the terrain dropped hundreds of feet to the glittering ocean. The waves rolled toward the small stretch of tawny beach at the foot of the cliff almost as casually as the Shoreline student body rolled toward class.
“Here we are,” Jasmine said.
An impressive two-story A-frame cabin stood alone at the end of the path. It had been built in the middle of a shady pocket of redwoods, so its steep, triangular roof and the vast open lawn in front of it were covered with a blanket of fallen needles. There was a nice grassy patch with some picnic tables, but the main attraction was the cabin itself: More than half of it looked like it was made of glass, all wide, tinted windows and open sliding doors. Like something Frank Lloyd Wright could have designed. Several students lounged on a huge second-story deck that faced the ocean, and several more kids were mounting the twin staircases that wound up from the path.
“Welcome to the Nephi-lodge,” Jasmine said.
“This is where you guys have class?” Luce’s mouth was agape. It looked more like a vacation home than a school building.
Next to her, Dawn squealed and squeezed Luce’s wrist.
“Good morning, Steven!” Dawn called across the lawn, waving to an older man who was standing at the foot of the stairs. He had a thin face, stylish rectangular glasses, and a thick head of wavy salt-and-pepper hair. “I just absolutely love it when he wears the three-piece suit,” she whispered.
“Morning, girls.” The man smiled at them and waved. He looked at Luce long enough to make her veer toward nervousness, but the smile stayed on his face. “See you in a few,” he called, and started up the stairs.
“Steven Filmore,” Jasmine whispered, filling Luce in as they trailed behind him up the stairs. “Aka S.F., aka the Silver Fox. He’s one of our teachers, and yes, Dawn is truly, madly, deeply in love with him. Even though he’s spoken for. She is shameless.”