“It’s okay. I kinda flew off the handle. I know there’s no point in arguing about coming here, not anymore.”

Dad smiled gently at me. “Bianca, you know that your mother and I didn’t ever think we’d be able to have you.”

“I know.” Please, I thought, not the “miracle baby” speech again.

“When you came into our lives, we dedicated ourselves to you. Maybe too much. And that’s our fault, not yours.”

“Dad, no.” I loved it when it was just our family together, only the three of us in the world. “Don’t talk about it like it’s something bad.”

“I’m not.” He seemed sad, and for the first time I 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 began to smile. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” I said to Patrice, already darting away from her. She shrugged as she looked for other friends to walk with. “Lucas?” I called.

He still didn’t seem to hear me. I didn’t want to yell after him, so I jogged a couple of steps to catch up. He was headed in the opposite direction from me—not in Mom’s class, apparently—but I was willing to run the risk of being late. More loudly, I said, “Lucas!”

He turned his head only enough to glimpse me, then glanced around at the students nearby as though he was worried we would be overheard. “Hey, there.”

Where was my protector from the forest? The guy standing in front of me now didn’t act like he wanted to take care of me; he acted like he didn’t know me. But he didn’t know me, did he? We’d talked once in the woods—when he’d tried to save my life, and I’d repaid him by telling him to shut up. Just because I thought that was the start of something didn’t mean he did.