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the cafeteria is segregated by coolness. The band geeks sit at one table, the regular geeks at another, the jocks are next to the popular kids, and so on. The only question in my mind is who to sit with.
    I glance around the lunchroom, gnawing on my lip as I think. The popular girls’ table is out. I did that back in North Carolina, and I don’t have the patience for the petty infighting and jealousy that comes along with that group. I don’t play an instrument, so the band geeks are out, and I can’t fit in with the regular geeks. Besides, they would see through me in record time. Smart people tend to realize there is something calculated about my responses. It’s one of the downsides of being possessed by vengeful, mythological monsters.
    There has to be a group high enough on the social ladder to give me a life but low enough that I can still be mostly invisible within the student body. I give myself a mental kick. I should have researched the student body before enrolling. The answer to every problem is on the Internet.
    Just as I’m beginning to feel hopeless, while They debate killing a nearby janitor just for a distraction (he cheats on his wife with the neighbor), I spot a table of guys and girls laughing back against the far wall. For the most part they look like they walked out of an ad for jeans, one of those “we’re casual and yet so stylish” setups. Their clothes are nice but not new enough to be cutting edge. There is none of the piercings and colored hair I associate with the druggie crowd, although one girl does have a minuscule nose stud. Her eyes meet mine across the cafeteria, and a flash of something flits across her face. Sorrow undercut with hope, excitement, and yearning. She smiles at me, a sign of welcome.
    Bingo.
    Anticipation swells in my chest as I hip swivel around a jock holding a freshman in a headlock and move toward the back of the room. Kids at other tables watch me as I go. I ignore them, and I’m relieved when I don’t even feel the need to injure anyone. The Furies have finally settled down, and Their silence is a welcome relief. With Them quiet I can try to make some friends, try to fit in. I want to belong.
    I’m surprisingly good at it.
    “Hi. Y’all mind if I sit here?” I ask softly when I get to the table. All eyes turn toward me, and the guys scoot over so that I can sit down, right across from Nose Stud Girl.
    “Hey,” she says with a smile. She’s a mousy little thing. Her bangs are on the long side, and her straight brown hair partially obscures her face. “You’re in my chemistry class. Corinne, right? I’m Mindi, with an i .” It’s an awful name, like her parents wanted her to be a porn star. Still, she seems really nice. I like nice.
    I smile widely. “Nice to meet you. It is Corinne, but y’all can call me Cory, with a y .” Mindi’s face flushes, but I give her a friendly grin. She smiles back, shyly.
    Everyone around the table introduces themselves. Tom, Adam, Jocelyn. There are two boys and three girls, counting Mindi. They all seem pretty nice, and I mentally pat myself on the back. Maybe I’m finally getting good at this making-friends thing.
    One of the girls, a blonde with frazzled hair, doesn’t introduce herself but instead just ignores me. I beam at everyone anyway, ignoring the blonde in return. “Wow, it’s so nice to meet y’all. And they say Yankees aren’t friendly.”
    Mindi grins. “‘Y’all’? ‘Yankees’? Lemme guess, you’re from the South.”
    I nod enthusiastically. “Savannah. Prettiest city in the entire U.S. In fact, they say that when Sherman came through with his army, he found the city and her squares so beautiful, he didn’t have the heart to destroy it. This was after he’d burned Atlanta, y’know. During the War of Northern Aggression.” It’s overkill, but I can’t help it. It’s something my grandma would have said, and the words slip out of their own accord. The memory of her makes me a little