I reversed another two steps, and Lancer did, too. I did not like the effect he had left on me, the feeling - whatever it was - that I had just experienced. Yet, I could not help but wonder if he'd felt it, too.

Graeme had arrived sometime between then and now, as shocked as I was frightened. Almost immediately, he looked at me, not with shock anymore, but instead with a fiery disapproval that made me want to find a corner in which to shrivel up and die. It was in that moment that Lancer said something to me - at least, I thought I heard my name.

"Sorry?" I asked, hopefully.

"It's nice to meet you," he spoke so clearly that time, in the most pure tone I had ever heard. I did not like it.

"Oh, right back at you," I muttered idiotically. Give me my breath back.

Graeme walked up to me, practically scowling, when he looked at the pages in my hand. "What did the principal want to see us for?"

"He asked that we give the new kids a tour of the school," I didn't look at him either when I spoke; it was like there was a pillar called Shame wedged between the two of us.

"Okay," he said and simultaneously took the rosters from my grasp. "I'll do that; you can go back to class."

"What? We're both supposed to -" he stopped me with a single, sharp glare. A knot formed in my chest, and he kept both ends of the rope in his hands, pulling it tighter. Graeme was angry with me. He was never angry with me.

Serra made her way to him. I'd expected him to be blushing red from her 'hotness', but he barely gave her any heed, not even when she introduced herself. What had I done?

"Hey, I'm Serra," she extended her arm out to him and gave him a smile - I didn't think she could smile. Her voice had a rasp to it, I'd noticed, but it was not a hoarse, frog-like kind of rasp. Every word she said was laced with this low, despicably attractive abrading.

"Graeme," he shook her hand.

"Cool name," she said, raising her eyebrows as if she was impressed, and her eyes widened so that they were even more alluring. "I saw you earlier. I'm really glad to see you again."

Now, he smiled; how could he not when she was talking like that and interlacing her fingers between his, as if they had known each other forever.

Cringing, I left the office before I heard or saw any more. This new chick was already into my best friend despite that having been, quite frankly, the most conversation he'd ever had with a girl who wasn't a friend or relative or friend's relative. But really the unbearable part was that right now he seemed to like her much more than he liked me. Mine and Lancer's interaction had upset him, but why - it wasn't like I kissed the guy? Maybe he had seen through the part of me that had actually wanted to.

What was that, by the way?

For a second, I wondered if Justin knew that feeling - I guess then it would make sense - but I couldn't do that, I couldn't think like that. It was just too painful. So, my mind went right back to Lancer, as if that would sedate me.

Eric was the one who pushed him; we wouldn't have touched if not for him. Did he apologise? I can't even remember. What matters is that it was not my fault... was it?

"Leslie?"

I sniffed, wiped my cheeks, and pretended that I was not crying - that I was not pathetic right now. When had the tears even started? I'd hardly noticed them. More importantly, why couldn't I just cry in peace? The saying went: speak of the devil and he shall appear. Well, apparently, the devil appeared when you thought of him, too.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Eric softly. Lancer tailed him shortly after - his brother was his shadow. "Did you two follow me?"

I hustled up from where I'd curled beside the lockers outside the EGD class on the third floor, and then made sure that no one else was with them. The last thing I needed was to feel any more embarrassed than I already did.

"Well, yes..." he trailed off; he was embarrassed, too. "I wanted to apologise - Lancer, too - for that."

I cracked the slightest smile; I guess he didn't have a name for whatever that was either. "It's okay."

Lancer was looking at me - didn't he know I was trying to ignore him? Couldn't he be a ghost? He spoke, and I nearly died.

"We - I didn't mean to upset you."

Eric added to his statement, "Or your boyfriend."

I sighed. Boyfriend, hah. "Actually, Graeme's not... My boyfriend is Justin Levine, maybe you've heard of him?"

Neither of them said anything. In fact, they both wore this incredibly convincing expression, like they had no idea who I was talking about, but they had to. Heathe knew, Heathe had been at his house that day, so they had to know, too.

"What about Aleksander and Christofer Mikhail, do you know them?" I inquired, probed. "I know they're related to Heathe. They know who Justin is."

"Christofer was right about you," he chuckled, a charming sound it was. "You're very curious." Eric took his brother and his haughty grin and gravitated towards the stairs.

"Yes, I am!" I raised my voice, "Where are you going?"

Eric turned around, and then so did Lancer, and he said, "We came to apologise and see if you were okay. But clearly, we underestimated you; you're far tougher than you look."

I furrowed my brows at him, like he was a crazy person. He must have been, because I was not tough, right now I was just pathetic.

Eric turned back and proceeded down the stairs, but this time, Lancer waited. And I made the mistake of looking at him. What was it about him? His eyes were nothing like the deeper parts of the ocean, or a golden fire, or an amalgamation of greys. His eyes were brown, like mine, his hair was black, like mine, he was pale. But he was a breath taker, and whether or not he was sorry about it, he was not giving my breath back.

Later on - 15:22.

It was the second time that Graeme had walked me home and not stayed for the afternoon, though I was surprised that he'd walked with me at all, considering that he was no longer talking to me. At break, he had not been with me or the Eights. He must have been enjoying that tour. For our last lessons - double Afrikaans - he had his back turned to me the entire time so that he could talk to Louella. To make matters worse, our Afrikaans key had been the only one small enough to fit all five of the new kids. But they were the least of my concerns, as long as they stayed on their side of the classroom.

I had overheard him say that his mom found someone to help him deal with his nightmares; they were getting worse now that the anniversary of his accident was around the corner again. It was something he would normally talk to me about, because I knew what happened, because I believed him.

"Good luck, Grae," Lou had wished him. "I hope this person your mom found can actually help you. I can't imagine how terrified you must have been when you saw that bear, and to think that it's still haunting you..."

I had wanted to scream between every word she'd spoken, to tell her that it had never been a bear attack and she didn't know what she was talking about, but I hadn't been thinking straight.

None of today was her fault.

When I entered the kitchen through the garage door, Ronan was there. He sometimes got home before me, when he could get a lift with one of his friends, but especially now that I had to stay at school an hour longer for the Eights' concert practices. Reason number - well, I'd lost count.

"What'cha feeding me?" I asked as he pulled the fridge door open. He looked over his shoulder, at me, suggesting the brownies Mom had baked over the weekend. "Mm, as appetising as that sounds," I started towards him and peeked into the fridge, "how about something slightly more nutritious?"

"You're gonna cook?" my little brother raised an eyebrow at me.

"Don't look so surprised!" I laughed. "Actually, I was just going to make a healthy sandwich - we got cheese, ham, tomato and lettuce. Sound good?"

I suppose I could have whipped something up; I wasn't a bad cook or anything, but it just wasn't something I would volunteer for. I always felt that I didn't enjoy food if I was the one who'd made it, and I would rather enjoy food.

Ronan's answer was nonverbal; he gave me this sly smile and stuck his hand into the fridge before retrieving and biting into a brownie. His smile grew around it as it hanged there in his teeth, and then he strolled off to his bedroom.

I had just been abandoned.

"Cool."

After lunch, I followed my brother's example of shutting myself in my room, and then I called Justin. I knew I would be sent to his voicemail again, so it was stupid to even try, but that did not stop me from trying again. Next, I tried Teylor's number, which didn't even go to voicemail, and neither did Merribel's. She had been at school on Tuesday, but not since. Maybe I should have asked her what was going on when I'd had the chance. I'd just figured her family would have conditioned her to lie about it anyway.

When was her birthday? I wondered if she was okay, if she was changing - if they were locking her up. It would explain a lot; Teylor and Justin couldn't come to school when they had a shape-shifting little sister to take care of. Perhaps, it was just my job to understand.