"And you are absolutely right." She leaned over and, smashing the complaining cat between them, kissed him noisily on the cheek.

I made gagging noises and pretended to throw up in my tissue wad, but I smiled as Aphrodite winked at me, and I did feel just a little bit better. At least it's over, I told myself. Erik hates me. Stark is dead, and even if he undeads, I'm just going to help him get his feet on the undead ground. That's it. So after that nasty confrontation with Heath, I'm definitely finished with boyfriend issues for a good, long time.

Naturally I was late for drama class. By shifting my schedule around, I'd been put in an upper-level drama class, which was really okay. I'd been in Drama II at South Intermediate High School when I'd been Marked, and I liked drama (onstage, not off). Okay, that didn't mean I was a particularly good actress, but I tried. Of course, changing hours stuck me in a class with a new group of kids. I stood in the doorway, trying to figure out where to sit and really, really not wanting to interrupt Erik (Professor Night?) in the middle of his lecture about Shakespearean plays.

"Just have a seat anywhere, Zoey." Erik spoke without even glancing in my direction. His voice was brisk and professional and even a little boring. In other words, he sounded just exactly like a teacher. No, I do not have a clue how he knew I was lurking in the doorway.

I hurried into the room and sat at the first empty desk I found. Sadly it was in the front. I nodded to Becca Adams, who was sitting right behind me. She nodded back, but was clearly distracted by her need to stare at Erik. I didn't really know Becca very well. She was blond and pretty, as per the norm for fledglings at the House of Night (there seemed to be five blondes for every "normal" kid), and she'd recently joined the Dark Daughters. I think I remember seeing her hang around with a couple of Aphrodite's old friends, but I didn't have any particular opinion of her one way or another. Of course, her craning her head around me and drooling at Erik wasn't exactly endearing her to me.

No! Erik is not my boyfriend anymore. I can't get pissed when another girl goes after him. I have to ignore it. Maybe I'll even make a point to try to be her friend to show everybody how over him I am. Yeah, I'll just--

"Hi, Z!"

Very blond, very cute, and very tall Cole Clifton, who was currently dating Shaunee (which also meant he was very brave), whispered a perky greeting to me, breaking through my inner babble. "Hi," I said back, giving him a big smile.

"Oh, hey, this is excellent. Thank you for volunteering, Zoey."

"Huh?" I blinked up at Erik.

His smile was cool. His eyes were blue ice. "You were talking, so I assumed that meant you were volunteering to read opposite me in the Shakespeare improvisation."

I gulped. "Oh. Well. I--" I started to try to beg out of doing whatever the hell a Shakespeare improvisation was, but when his cool gaze turned mocking, like he was looking forward to me totally chickening out like a giant dork, I changed my mind. Erik Night was not going to embarrass and bully me all semester. So I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter in my seat. "I'd love to volunteer."

The quick flash of surprise that widened those gorgeous blue eyes gave me an instant of smugness. That instant evaporated as soon as he said, "Good. Then come on up here and get your copy of our scene."

Ah, crap crap crap!

"All right." Erik and I stood on the stage that faced the drama class. "As I was explaining before Zoey came in late and interrupted, Shakespeare improvisation is a great way to exercise your characterization skills. It's unusual, yes, because Shakespeare isn't usually improvised. Actors stick close to the playwright's words, which is why changing up famous scenes can be interesting." He pointed at the very short script I held in my nervously sweating hand. "That is the beginning of a scene between Othello and Desdemona--"

"We're doing Othello?" I squeaked, feeling my stomach clench into a nauseated fist. It was Othello's monologue that Erik had recited to me with his eyes and voice full of love in front of the entire school.

"Yes." His eyes met mine. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Yes! "No," I lied. "I just wondered, that's all." Oh, god! Was he going to make me improv one of Othello's love scenes? I couldn't tell if my stomach was getting sicker by the instant because I wanted that or because I didn't want it.

"Good. So you know the story of the play, right?"

I nodded. Of course I did. Othello, the Moor (a.k.a. a black guy), had married Desdemona (an extremely white girl). They'd been majorly in love until Iago, a crappy guy jealous of Othello, decided to make it look like Desdemona had been messing around on Othello. Othello had ended up strangling Desdemona. To death.