Since gym is my last period of the day, I rush from the archery room before Instructor Fletch, Alden, or Jase can stop me. As such, I'm one of the first to the lockers on my hallway. Of course, I wasn't able to make it out of there before Fletch promised to flay us alive if any of us forgot our P.E. uniform on Wednesday. I swear that ex-marine looked straight at me during it all. I'm about to shut the locker door when a petite hand gets there first and snaps it closed. It nearly takes my nose off. 

Annabelle leans against the locker next to mine, her pale cheeks a little flushed. I'm pretty sure she ran here, probably pushing at least three kids out of her way in the process. 

"You shot an arrow at Jase Miles?" she asks, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. "The Jase Miles?"

I zip up my shoulder bag and loop it over my head so it rests comfortably across my chest. "Is that what people are saying?" I can't help but grin to myself even though I know that's not true. I find that I'm slightly enjoying all of this. "And what do you mean 'the Jase Miles?'"

Annabelle tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't play coy with me, Guin. Jase Miles. Dreamboat senior. Captain of the lacrosse team. Do-gooder of the world. Teaches kids with disabilities how to ride horses in his spare time. That Jase Miles."

I toss her a smirk. "Well, he's not very good with arrows."

She smacks me on the arm. "Guin!" she complains. "Did you really shoot him? You know, his dad is the headmaster of the school, and impaling his son the year before he goes off to Ole Miss or Clemson to become a lawyer, or a doctor, or a professional athlete—"

I laugh. "Calm down, Annabelle. I didn't shoot him. Golden Boy is fine. The only thing that may hurt is his ego." When Annabelle continues to look at me, waiting for more, I sigh. "Instructor Fletch forced Jase and I into a shoot off. I won. End of story."

A mocking frown flickers across her face. "Oh, well, that's far less exciting."

I try to feign nonchalance as we enter the parking lot. "So, what do you know about him?"

She peers at me with a glint in her brown eyes. "Fletch or Jase?"

"The Jase."

Annabelle stops at a bright yellow jeep and leans against the bumper, observing me with a knowing expression. I kindly don't comment on the fact that, of course, she has a car like this one. She kindly doesn't comment on my weak attempt to sound disinterested in Jase. 

"Besides all the teenage hormonal hype, you mean?" She pretends to swoon. "Well, he's adopted for one thing. Showed up in town when he was about three or four years old. Right on the doorstep of Headmaster Miles' farm estate. My parents and his parents have been close for years. Headmaster Miles' wife, Miss Mary, has been sick for some time now. Jase became quite the miracle baby news story around Liberty Forrest."

"Huh," I comment, scratching at my chin.

"Oh! Also, he's been captain of Battlefield's lacrosse team for two years. The favorite of demonic teacher, Fletch Davies. He's best friends with the school's number one flirt and dick, Alden Finch—"

A shadow looms over us, and we both look up just as Alden says, "Someone say my name?"

I cross my arms and legs on instinct and lean away from him, eyeing him through slitted lids. "Don't think I haven't forgotten that it was all your fault, what happened today," I accuse. I look over at Annabelle who, oddly enough, is staring into the gravel beneath our feet like a Drude Demon is crawling around down there, suckling on bones—and to think I'd been doing so well at acting normal.

I shake my head when Alden chuckles. "Trust me, I would be disappointed if you did; I've been told I'm unforgettable." He offers me his hand. "The name's Alden."

Annabelle remains silent and rigid beside me, and I try to nudge her subtly as I reach for his hand. "I would say that I'm pleased to meet you, but I've been told that it's rude to lie down here in the South. I'm Guin."

With a half-smirk, he drops the hand that was holding mine and reaches into the pocket of his khakis. He pulls out the same red, rubber lacrosse ball from archery class. "Guin. The girl with the archer's touch," he drawls and then cocks his arm back. "Head's up!" he shouts before throwing the ball across the parking lot.

"What the hell!" Annabelle finally comes to life, throwing her arms out to protect her car. "That could have hit my baby!"

"Lucky for you, I have great aim," Alden retorts with a lewd wink, which turns Annabelle back into the muted mutation of herself. I glance between the two of them, curious to know the story here, but Alden distracts me with a satisfied humph in the back of his throat. "Like I said, perfect aim."

The red ball hits its highest peak against the low, humid clouds and then arches down, bouncing onto the pavement next to a group of students standing around in the senior parking lot. Alden swears, slapping an exasperated hand against his forehead as the group scatters, chasing after the ball. 

He sucks in a breath and bellows, "Jamison Clancy, you pussy! That was yours to catch!"

My foot slips in the gravel. I throw out a hand to catch myself on the hood of Annabelle's car. "Careful," she rebukes, rubbing her hand along the flawless yellow paint of her jeep to make sure I didn't just dent it.

"Sorry. Slipped."

Jamison Clancy.

Recognition slips down my spine, and I'm feeling light headed as Jase jogs up to us, tossing the red ball into Alden's waiting hands. "Save it for the field, man," he says, clapping Alden on the back. He nods over at me. "Guinevere, we have got to stop meeting under circumstances such as these."

I shake my hair away from my neck, feeling much too warm. My brain hasn't yet restarted, but somehow my lips still work. "Circumstances like what, exactly?"

Jase motions over to Alden. "Circumstances like these, where my friend acts like a redneck with half a brain."

Alden huffs in protest. "Shut it, Clancy."

Jase wrinkles his sun-tanned nose in distaste. "I hate that name."

"I know." Alden crosses his arms self-righteously in a way that also highlights his bulging biceps. I have no doubt that he knows it. "And how do you know our infamous arrow charmer?"

"She almost killed me with a door," Jase quips.

"And now an arrow," I add numbly. "Apparently."

"It's been a very violent relationship," he finishes with a wry grin.

Alden looks between us, his brown eyes keen for a moment as he observes who knows what—God bless him— before he clasps Jase across the shoulder. He tosses the ball back at him. "Let's go, Clancy. I already have about fifteen extra laps to run today; don't want to be late and make it twenty." He glances from me to Annabelle, who's now wrapping her hair around her pinkie, fumbling in one of the pockets of her bag in an effort to look busy. "Ladies," Alden says as means of a farewell. He leans in towards me and lowers his voice. "Your friend can speak, can't she?"

"My words would nunchuck you in the groin," Annabelle mutters. "You should be thankful I'm not wielding them."

Alden laughs at the rebuke, eyes bright and unperturbed by her threat. "Later, Annabellalee," he sing-songs. "Make sure to hold onto your shorts. Wouldn't want a repeat of this summer's Fourth of July party, would we?"

Annabelle blushes but swings out an arm as if to punch him. "Jokes on you because I'm wearing a skirt, you dunce!"

Jase shoves his friend, forcing him backwards, but he tips his focus my way one last time. "If you promise not to pummel me with a medieval mace tomorrow, maybe I'll find you at lunch, Guinevere," he offers with one final wave. "See ya, Annabelle. I'll try to keep him lassoed."

When both of them turn away, I place an unsteady hand to my chest, pressing against my racing heart. Next to me, Annabelle seems to be muttering in Mandarin, kicking at the gravel savagely. Her foreign words somehow blend together into a name that chases itself around my brain. My head throbs three times, once for each part of Jase's identity that was just handed to me. I put his full name together, arrange all the parts in multiple combinations until I'm leaning against Annabelle's jeep, the weight of it all leaving me breathless.

Jamison Clancy Miles.

Jam Toast.

The name that has been appearing on my Settler's ring. 

_ _ _

Well, that can't be good. Until next time, my lovelies! Please leave a vote and/or a comment. Thanks for reading!