Just as she was about to step away, something on the opposite page of the magazine caught her eye. A horoscope column. Her birth sign, Cancer, seemed to be staring out at her. Automatically her eyes followed the words after it.
That daggy insecure feeling has got you again. It's time for positive thinking! If that doesn't work, remember that nothing lasts forever. Try not to make waves in your personal relationships this month. You've got enough to cope with already.
Horoscopes are such garbage, Cassie thought, closing the magazine with a slap. Her mother had always said so, and it was true. “That daggy insecure feeling”-just telling someone they felt insecure was enough to make them feel it! There was nothing supernatural about that.
But if she didn't believe in the supernatural, what was the chalcedony lucky piece doing in the zipper compartment of her backpack? Setting her jaw, she took it out and put it in her jewelry box, then went downstairs to say good-bye.
The school was an impressive three-story red brick building. So impressive that after Cassie had parked the Rabbit, she was almost afraid to go any closer. There were several narrow paths that led up the hill, and she finally nerved herself to take one. At the top her throat closed and she simply stared.
God, it looked like a college or something. Like a historical landmark. The bold stone facing on the front read NEW SALEM HIGH SCHOOL, and below was a sort of crest with the words Town of New Salem, Incorporated 1693. Was that how old this town was? Three hundred years? Back in Reseda, the oldest buildings around had been there for maybe fifty years.
I am not shy, Cassie told herself, forcing herself to walk forward. I am Cassie the Confident.
An incredibly loud roar made her head jerk around, and sheer instinct sent her jumping to the side just in time to avoid being run over. Heart pounding, she stood and gawked at what had almost hit her. It was a motorcycle on the bike path. But even more astonishing was its rider-a girl. She was wearing tight black jeans and a motorcycle jacket, and her trim, athletic body looked tough. But when she turned around after parking the motorcycle by a bike rack, Cassie saw that her face was ravishingly pretty. It was small and feminine, framed by tumbling dark curls, and marred only by a sullen, belligerent expression.
“What are you staring at?” the girl demanded suddenly.
Cassie started. She supposed she had been staring. The girl took a step forward, and Cassie found herself stepping back.
“I'm sorry-I didn't mean to-“ She tried to tear her eyes away, but it was hard. The girl was wearing a skimpy black midriff top under the jacket, and Cassie glimpsed what looked like a small tattoo just above the material. A tattoo of a crescent moon. “I'm sorry,” Cassie said again, helplessly.
“You better be. You keep out of my face, get it?”
You were the one who almost ran me over, Cassie thought. But she nodded hastily, and to her vast relief
the girl turned away.
God, what a horrible way to start the first day of school, Cassie thought, hurrying toward the entrance. What a horrible person to be the first one you spoke to. Well, at least after a beginning like that, things could only get better.
All around her teenagers were greeting one another, shouting hello; the girls giggling and hugging, the boys horsing around. It was an excited bustle, and everybody seemed to know everybody else.
Except Cassie. She stood looking at the fresh haircuts of the guys, the brand-new clothes of the girls, smelling the scents of too much perfume and unnecessary aftershave and feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.
Keep moving, she told herself sternly. Don't stand around looking for that girl-find your first class. Maybe you'll see somebody there who's alone, and you can talk to them. You've got to look extroverted if you want people to think you are.
Her first class was writing for publication, an English elective, and Cassie was glad she had it. She liked creative writing, and the Program of Studies had said that the class would offer opportunities for publication in the school literary magazine and newspaper. She'd worked on the newspaper in her old school; maybe she could here, too.
Of course, the Program also said you had to sign up for writing for publication the previous spring, and Cassie still couldn't quite understand how her grandmother had gotten her enrolled just before school started. Maybe her grandmother had special pull with the administration or something.
She found the class without much trouble and took an inconspicuous desk near the back. The room was filling up, and everyone seemed to have someone to talk to. Nobody took the slightest notice of Cassie.
She began doodling ferociously on the front of her notebook, trying to look totally involved in it, trying to look as if she weren't the only one in class sitting alone.
“You're new, aren't you?”
The boy in front of her had turned around. His smile was genuinely friendly, but it was also dazzling, and she had a feeling he knew exactly how dazzling it was. His hair was auburn and curly, and it was clear that when he stood, he'd be very tall.
“You're new,” he said again.
“Yes,” said Cassie, and was furious to hear her voice shake. But this guy was so good-looking… “I'm Cassie Blake. I just moved here from California.”
“I'm Jeffrey Lovejoy,” he said.
“Oh,” Cassie said, trying to make it sound as if she'd heard of him before, since this seemed to be what he expected.
“Center on the basketball team,” he said. “Also captain.”
“Oh, how great.” Oh, how stupid. She had to do better than this. She sounded brainless. “I mean-that must be really interesting.”
“Are you interested in basketball? Maybe we could talk about it sometime.” Suddenly Cassie felt very
grateful to him. He was ignoring her blundering, her lameness. Okay, so maybe he liked to be admired, but what difference did that make? He was nice, and it would definitely improve her status to be seen around the campus with him.
“That would be great,” she said, wishing she could think of another adjective. “Maybe-maybe at lunch …”
A shadow fell over her. Or at least that was how it felt. In any case, she was aware, all at once, of a presence at her side, a presence that made her voice trail off blankly as she looked up, wide-eyed.
A girl was standing there, the most striking girl Cassie had ever seen. A big, beautiful girl, both tall and voluptuous. She had a mane of pitch-black hair and her pale skin was touched with the glow of confidence and power.