I probably shouldn’t have watched so many nature shows in Iceland. They were starting to mess with my head.
Another problem: everyone was sizing me up, checking me out, taking me in. Sometime between second and third period, I could feel the sweat start to creep up the back of my neck, and by the time we got to lunch, I was on the fast track to full-blown paranoid.
And I still hadn’t seen Jesse Oliver.
I needed some air.
As soon as the lunch bell rang (and having a bell going off every hour wasn’t helping the situation), I walked outside into the autumn afternoon sun and took a deep breath, pushing my hair out of my face and willing my heart to slow down to a more manageable beat. The air was nice and cool in the courtyard and there were groups of students gathered by different tables, mostly girls huddled around one another, none of them acknowledging me. At first it was a nice change of pace, but I started to realize that standing by myself wasn’t exactly subtle.
That was it. I was going to quit spying. I didn’t care what my parents said, this was just insane. I was a sitting duck, and frankly, I’d rather be on trial in Luxembourg because at least then I could—
“Are you going to stand there all day?”
I turned around to see a blond girl sitting by herself at a table behind me, regarding me with an expression that could be described only as haughty. It reminded me of that time when the Queen of England—
“You seriously are going to just stand there, aren’t you.” She laughed to herself. “Jesus, you’re like a bleeding gazelle in the middle of the grassland.”
“Excuse me?” I said. “Do I know you?”
She took a huge bite of her apple and spoke around it. “Nope.”
She was familiar, though. Not necessarily in looks, just in the way she sat, like she was waiting for something to happen. Her uniform was on inside out, which, I am sorry to tell you, looked really cool, and she was dangling the apple from her fingers like she didn’t care whether or not she dropped it.
“Then why are you—?”
“Look,” she interrupted. “First rule of New York: Don’t just stand there. Keep moving. We don’t like it when you stand there. It makes us angry.”
I was sure I knew her! Maybe she was a spy, too. Maybe the Collective had two of us infiltrating the system. That would be a first, but hey, it wasn’t any crazier than enrolling me in geometry.
The girl started to laugh, only it was more of a cackle. “Fine.” She shrugged. “Have it your way. Enjoy the lion stampede.”
And then I realized why she was so familiar. She reminded me of me. That was my attitude, my voice, my exact thoughts. I had been so nervous that they got lost in the shuffle, but seeing them all in this girl made those qualities come rushing back.
I was a spy.
“I’ll stand if I want to,” I told her, squaring my shoulders and instantly feeling my posture fall back into place like an old friend. Oh, hi again, my body seemed to be saying. Thanks for finally getting your game face on. “You’re the one who can keep following the herd.”
She didn’t even blink. “I’m not a follower.”
“That’s funny, because you’re sitting behind me.” I picked an invisible piece of lint off my blazer.
“It all depends on perception,” she retorted.
“It all depends on who’s perceiving,” I shot back.
She finally grinned. “Well, it’s about time someone cool showed up.” She nodded at the seat across from her. “I’m Roux.”
“Roo?” I said. “As in Kan—?”
“If you say Kanga, I will throw this apple at your head.” She just set it down, though. “It’s R-O-U-X. My mom had a brief fling with the French language when I was born.”
“Maggie,” I replied, wishing my mother had had an affair with the French language, too. Next to Roux, Maggie sounded like some wide-hipped farmhand who thought the Moulin Rouge was a new type of makeup. “It’s my first day.”
Roux widened her eyes dramatically. “No!”
“I’m as thrilled as you are,” I replied.
The easiest way to talk to someone new is to say what you think they want you to say. It was even easier when that’s what you would have said anyway. Roux was making this a piece of cake.
“Junior?” she guessed, and I nodded. “Yeah, me too. You know you can go off-campus for lunch, right?”
I shrugged. “Why? You just told me not to be a follower.”
She grinned for real this time. “You’re a quick learner.”
“Roux,” I said, “you have no idea.”
Within fifteen minutes, I learned that she was left-handed, hated school, and wore her uniform inside out after fighting a three-month battle with the school board. “I’m still wearing it,” she pointed out. “I just like to toy with their heads.” Then she glanced up and down at my plain uniform. “What are you going to do with this unfortunate situation?”
She didn’t need to know that I had the accessorizing abilities of a paralyzed flea. “Keep it as is.” I shrugged. “I have bigger things to worry about.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, at least the boots are good.”
“The uniform’s scandalous enough,” I pointed out, motioning to the skirt. I would have killed for a pair of tights, especially now that the sun was slipping behind some clouds. “Did they buy these things on Canal Street?”