THE PAST

"Ugh, what reeks in here?"

Naomi gritted her teeth as she shoved her math books into her bag.

"It's you, isn't it? Don't have enough money for running water?" Someone yanked her up by her hair. "Good thing we've got showers here. Wouldn't want us all catching fleas from you."

"If you think fleas come off in a shower, you're even dumber than you look." Naomi braced herself against the lockers with one hand, gripping her hair close to her scalp with the other, trying to pull it out of Saskia's grip.

Saskia's eyes flared. "Yeah, well, not all of us are pest experts like you."

"Let me go."

The girl who'd been making her life hell for a week raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"

"Find out."

She narrowed her eyes, her gang of prissy friends surrounding her, laughing shrilly.

"Ooh, big talk."

"Bigger than ganging up on one classmate."

Saskia sneered and shoved Naomi hard, making her smack into the lockers. Her wild brown curls flew everywhere, just as unyielding as she felt inside.

There was no way she was becoming their new punching bag. The last target—a girl Naomi didn't even know the name of since she barely spoke—had transferred schools a few weeks ago. A part of her regretted not standing up for her.

But that wasn't her problem. She didn't bother people, and they didn't bother her. That had worked for the past two years—until now, apparently.

Saskia and her flock of airheads swayed off down the hallway. Naomi raised an eyebrow when one of them glanced back, then turned back to her books.

If only it had been that easy.

But no, Saskia had a reputation to uphold, and she seemed to think stomping on others was her ticket to becoming head cheerleader. That's what you got when you weren't actually any good at dancing.

After gym class, four girls grabbed Naomi's arms and dragged her into the showers. She kicked and struggled, but she was no match for the four of them. The water was already running, and they shoved her under it, laughing.

Water gushed over her, drenching her clothes. She shivered; it was ice cold. Her tormentors' eyes sparkled, and she wanted nothing more than to claw them out.

Saskia strutted into the shower room, hands on her hips. "Look at the little hissing kitten." Her laugh was light, fake-innocent, like it was made of innocence she'd stolen from too many people. "Whether it gets rid of your filthy fleas or not, it was worth a try."

Naomi said nothing. She just stood there like a statue until they got bored. Or maybe uncomfortable. They let go, rolling down their sleeves as they walked away.

Soaked, Naomi stepped out from under the shower. Now what? She couldn't go to class like this. And what was she supposed to tell her dad? She didn't want him worrying. It was hard enough explaining why she never brought friends over; she didn't want him thinking she was being bullied, too. Being a loner was one thing—that was her choice. But this...

Her gym clothes were in the locker room. She had no choice but to put them on, even though they were sweaty and left her arms and legs bare in weather that wasn't exactly warm.

She'd tough it out and hope it poured rain on the way home or that her dad was too busy with the secondhand shop next to their house.

Luckily, when she got home, her dad was in the shop, helping someone donate a stack of LPs. She slipped to her room, quickly changed into something warm, and tossed her wet clothes in the laundry basket. Then she sank onto her bed with a sigh, curling up on her side and looking at the photo on her nightstand.

"Well, that was a day, Mom."

She closed her eyes, imagining her mom sitting beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Then she shook off that silly longing. She wasn't a kid anymore. The world was tough; she'd learned that early on.

And she wasn't just going to let this go. She'd get back at that bitch.

Excitement buzzed through Naomi as she walked into the cafeteria. She'd had the first two periods off today and had put them to good use. With a spring in her step, she made her way to a table in the middle of the room, where Saskia and her posse were sitting. There were a few guys at the table too—the kind who'd sell their souls to get on the football team but hadn't made the cut. A sad bunch of wannabes.

Naomi let one strap of her backpack slip off her shoulder and pulled it close. She unzipped it.

Whispers started around the table, eyes darting her way. Naomi waggled her fingers as she got closer.

When she was right behind Saskia, the girl glanced over her shoulder. "What do you want?"

Naomi gave her a sweet smile—or at least tried to; smiling wasn't something she did often. "I made you a promise."

Saskia's eyebrows shot up. "I don't care about promises from beggars like you."

"Well, not everyone cares about your opinion." Naomi leaned forward, pressing against the back of the girl's chair so she couldn't run. Then she pulled a plastic container from her bag, took off the lid, and shook it over her head.

Dozens of spiders tumbled into her wavy blonde hair and onto her dark sweaters, where they blended in perfectly.

Saskia screamed, swatting at herself.

Naomi leaned in, laughing, and whispered in her ear, "The more you freak out, the faster they'll bite and run all over you." She picked one spider off Saskia's shoulder and let it fall onto her nose. Screaming like she was being sawed in half, Saskia slapped it away. "Think hard if you really want me as your enemy, princess. Next time, I'll stick a nest of rats in your locker." She grinned darkly. "Or in your bed."

Naomi winked at a guy staring from across the table and strutted away—just like Saskia had done yesterday. She felt... incredible. It was like she'd kept something bottled up inside, and now it was finally free.

A symbolic freedom, since her stunt had landed her in detention. But that didn't take away her sense of triumph. Whether she did her homework here or at home made no difference to her. She took a seat in the back corner and put her bag on the table. Just as she pulled out her last book, someone dropped down next to her.

A boy leaned over the table, peering into her bag. "More spiders in stock?" He had a hint of a grin on his face.

"Why? You hungry?"

His grin widened. Naomi tried to remember his name. She wasn't good with names. He was in the same grade as her, and they had econ and history together. Miller—wasn't that it? He only showed up for half his classes, which she'd noticed.

Normally, she'd turn her nose up at his bad-boy vibe, but he had something... real. Something dangerous that intrigued her. His hair was buzzed short, and he wore cargo pants with boots and a black shirt. She wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to join the military. His strong jaw gave him a certain unyielding look, something mature that made him seem older than the fourteen years he must be.

"Like what you see?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Does it matter? Or are you about to flex those biceps of yours?"

One corner of his mouth curled up. "I'm Tom."

She hesitated briefly. "Naomi," she finally said.

The next day, she didn't eat lunch alone.