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glance back. His face was blank, but there was no mistaking it—he was watching her go.

TWO

    FIT TO BE TIED
    L uce had a piece of paper with her schedule printed on it, a half-empty notebook she’d started to fill at Dover in her Advanced European History class last year, two number two pencils, her favorite eraser, and the sudden bad feeling that Arriane might have been right about the classes at Sword & Cross.
    The teacher had yet to materialize, the flimsy desks were arranged in haphazard rows, and the supply closet was barricaded with stacks of dusty boxes piled in front of it.
    What was worse, none of the other kids seemed to notice the disarray. In fact, none of the other kids seemed to notice that they were in a classroom at all. They all stood clustered near the windows, taking one last drag of a cigarette here, repositioning the extra-large safety pins on their T-shirts there. Only Todd was seated at an actual desk, carving something intricate onto its surface with his pen. But the other new students seemed to have already found their places among the crowd. Cam had the preppy Dover-looking guys in a tight cluster around him. They must have been friends when he was enrolled at Sword & Cross the first time. Gabbe was shaking hands with the tongue-pierced girl who’d been making out with the tongue-pierced guy outside. Luce felt stupidly envious that she wasn’t daring enough to do anything but take a seat closer to the unthreatening Todd.
    Arriane flitted about the others, whispering things Luce couldn’t make out, like some sort of goth princess. When she passed Cam, he tousled her newly chopped hair.
    “Nice mop, Arriane.” He smirked, tugging on a strand at the back of her neck. “My compliments to your stylist.”
    Arriane swatted him away. “Hands off, Cam. Which is to say: In your dreams.” She jerked her head in Luce’s direction. “And you can give your compliments to my new pet, right over there.”
    Cam’s emerald eyes sparkled at Luce, who stiffened. “I believe I will,” he said, and started walking toward her.
    He smiled at Luce, who was sitting with her ankles crossed under her chair and her hands folded neatly on her heavily graffitied desk.
    “Us new kids have to stick together,” he said. “Know what I mean?”
    “But I thought you’d been here before.”
    “Don’t believe everything Arriane says.” He glanced back at Arriane, who was standing at the window, eyeing them suspiciously.
    “Oh no, she didn’t say anything about you,” Luce said quickly, trying to remember whether or not that was actually true. It was clear Cam and Arriane didn’t like each other, and even though Luce was grateful to Arriane for taking her around this morning, she wasn’t ready to pick any sides yet.
    “I remember when I was a new kid here … the first time.” He laughed to himself. “My band had just broken up and I was lost. I didn’t know anyone. I could have used someone without”—he glanced at Arriane—“an agenda to show me the ropes.”
    “What, and you have no agenda?” Luce said, surprised to hear a flirting lilt in her voice.
    An easy smile spread across Cam’s face. He raised one eyebrow at her. “And to think I didn’t want to come back here.”
    Luce blushed. She didn’t usually get involved with rocker guys—but then again, none of them had ever pulled the desk next to her even closer, plopped downbeside her, and stared at her with eyes quite so green. Cam reached into his pocket and pulled out a green guitar pick with the number 44 printed on it.
    “This is my room number. Come by anytime.”
    The guitar pick wasn’t far from the color of Cam’s eyes, and Luce wondered how and when he’d had these printed up, but before she could answer—and who knew what she would have answered—Arriane clamped a hard hand down on Cam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, did I not make myself clear? I’ve already called dibs on this one.”
    Cam snorted. He looked straight at