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wondered if he
didn't really like this either. "But everything changes, sweetheart. The
sooner you accept that, the better."

"I know. I'm sorry I'm still letting it get to me." My stomach
rumbled, and I wrinkled my nose and asked, hopefully, "Could I reheat my
dinner?"

"I have a sneaking suspicion that your mother might have already taken
care of that."

She had. For the rest of the evening, we had a good time. I figured I might as
well have fun while I could. Tommy Dorsey replaced Glenn Miller, and then Ella
Fitzgerald replaced him. We talked and joked about stupid things mostly—movies
and TV, all the stuff my parents wouldn't pay any attention to if it weren't
for me. Once or twice, though, they tried joking about school.

"You're going to meet some incredible people," Mom promised.

I shook my head, thinking of Courtney. She was already definitely one of the
least incredible people I'd ever met. "You can't know that."

"I can and I do."

"What, you can see the future now?" I teased.

"Honey, you've been holding out on me. What else does the soothsayer
predict?" Dad asked as he got up to change the records. The man still kept
his music collection on vinyl. "This, I want to hear."

Mom played along, putting her fingertips to her temples like a gypsy
fortune-teller. "I think Bianca will meet—boys."

Lucas's face flashed in my mind, and my heartbeat quickened within an instant.
My parents exchanged looks. Could they hear my pulse pounding all the way
across the room? Maybe so.

I tried to make a joke of it. "I hope they're going to be cute."

"Not too cute," Dad interjected, and we all laughed. Mom and Dad
really thought it was funny; I was trying to cover the fact that I now had
butterflies in my stomach.

It felt weird, not telling them about Lucas. I'd always told them almost
everything about my life. Lucas was different, though. Talking about him would
break the spell. I wanted him to remain a secret for a while longer. That way,
I could keep him for myself.

Already I wanted Lucas to belong only to me.
     

Chapter Three
    "You didn't have your uniform tailored, did you?"
Patrice smoothed her skirt as we prepared for the first day of classes.

Why hadn't I seen it before? Of course all the real Evernight types had sent
their uniforms to a tailor—tucked the blouses here and the kilts there so that
they were chic and flattering instead of boxy and asexual. Like mine. "No.
I didn't think of it."

"You really must remember to do that," Patrice said. "Individual
tailoring makes a world of difference. No woman should neglect it." I could
already tell that she liked giving advice, showing off how worldly and smart
she was. This would have annoyed me more if she hadn't been so obviously right.
Sighing, I set back to work, trying to get my hair to lie smooth beneath my
headband. Surely I'd see Lucas at some point that day, so I wanted to look my
best, or as good as I could look in this stupid uniform.

We picked up our class assignments in an enormous line in the great hall, slips
of paper handed out to us, just the way it would've been done a hundred years
ago. The crowds of students were less rowdy than they would have been back at
my old school. Everyone here seemed to understand the routine.

Maybe the quiet was only an illusion. My uneasiness seemed to swallow sound,
muffling everything, until I wondered if anybody could even hear me if I screamed.

Patrice remained by my side at first, but only because we shared our first
class, which was American History, taught by my mother. She was the only parent
I would have for a teacher; instead of Dad's biology class, I'd be taking
chemistry with a Professor Iwerebon. I felt awkward walking next to Patrice
with nothing to say, but I didn't really have any alternative—until I saw Lucas,
the sunlight through the frosted glass in the hallways turning his golden-brown
hair to bronze. At first I thought he saw Patrice and me, but he kept on
walking without breaking his stride.

I