Laughter filled the warm day. Shrieks of excitement echoed all around, adding to the cacophony coming from the parking lot and the front steps. Students flitted past me, paying no attention to the new kid who had a world of torment swirling inside.

First days suck.

Especially when you’re the new kid.

Especially when you’re only sort of the new kid.

Poised on the brink of my first day as a senior, I had returned to the school I’d thought I would never see again. It had been a year since I’d left and, while everything looked the same, I had changed irrevocably.

I guessed that was what came when your parents shipped you off because your face reminded them too much of your brother’s, who had decided to party a smidge too hard and OD.

After Derek’s funeral, none of us had been able to cope. My parents most of all, who had ignored his drug problem the entire time and therefore hadn’t seen the disaster from a mile off. Their solution had been to send me to live with my grandma six hours away.

Being away from home and everything that reminded me of my brother was…different. Somehow both easier and harder all at the same time.

It had been refreshing to be in a place where no one had known my history, no one had known what I’d run away from. The kids at my new school had seen me only as a real new girl… With them, I’d had a clean slate. There, I had been able to breathe again. I hadn’t been tied down with the superficial crap that came with who I’d been before with my old friends.

But… I missed my brother. I missed him in a way that I would never be whole again. He was one half of me and I wasn’t sure who I was without him. We had walked different paths in life, were completely different people. In fact, as twins, we couldn’t have been more different.

I had to wonder if Derek would even recognize me now. Once upon a time, we had been best friends—had camped together, had eaten s’mores together and had broken bones together. Who knew umbrellas didn’t have the same effect as parachutes? But then along with growing up, we’d grown apart. I’d found my friends and clothes and accessories…and Derek had found prescription medication.

So now here I was…again. Molded into a new shape by grief…again. Three months ago, I had come home from school to find Grandma slumped on the kitchen floor having suffered a massive stroke. It had left her paralyzed and unable to talk, and my parents with no other option but to bring me home.

I had no way to predict what I would walk into. Before I’d left, I’d known where I fitted in. But what if, now, I didn’t fit anywhere? Or what if there was no longer space for me?

One thing was for sure—I wouldn’t find out by hiding outside.

I squared my shoulders to take the first step. My stomach knotted and my heart pounded. I had never been more aware of every single part of my body, from my sweaty hands to my awkward feet.

Heels had been my staple before I’d left, but after a year of ballet flats and sneakers, the cute, summery wedges strapped to my feet felt more like vise grips that threatened to send me tumbling the moment I stopped concentrating.

I released a long breath and climbed the steps leading into the school. There were a few minutes left before the first bell, and I knew exactly where I had to go. I wouldn’t slip quietly into school, waiting for the rumors to announce my return, though that sounded like a much better option. If I didn’t feel like the girl I used to be, I could at least act like it until I did. And that meant showing no fear as I faced the friends I hadn’t heard a word from since Derek’s funeral.

Once upon a time, I belonged to the most powerful clique of my school. Which meant, as seniors, they could only be in one place.

The quad was a beautiful suntrap, part of the reason it made such a popular hangout. People from all groups of social standing could be seen scattered across the space, but as the reigning monarchs of Westbrook High, my friends’ undisputed territory had to be the most central table.

All around, kids shot them glances, some not exactly warm ones. The elaborate fountain behind them framed their table and with the picture-perfect blue sky above, they could have been plucked from an airbrushed magazine spread. They sported the latest hairstyles, hottest lip gloss, killer nail polish and matching tiny bags.

None of them saw me coming. They actively ignored everything around them—something I myself had once been a master at.

It was Sarah Kaye, bubbly and permanently happy Sarah, who saw me first. She broke into a wide grin and pushed her enormous designer sunglasses on top of her head. “No way!”

I smiled at her, and my nerves disappeared a smidge. But Sarah was the easy one—the one I didn’t have to worry about. I slid my gaze to the next girl, now second in line to our leader. I’d bet the ink on my transfer papers hadn’t even dried before she’d stepped into my empty spot.

Rachel Rosenberg arched a slender eyebrow at Sarah’s eager outburst and flicked her dark gaze to me. Her eyes widened for a beat before she regained composure and pulled one corner of her lips into a half-smile. Rachel bumped her takeout coffee cup against the top of the one beside her, which belonged to the remaining girl who point blank refused to acknowledge me.

She would make me work for it.

With a deep breath, I stepped forward, hoping I had my game face on. “Hi, guys.” I shifted to confront the girl who had once been my best friend. “Jill.”

Jill Myers cast her eyes up to me. She coolly observed me for half a second before flashing a dazzling, yet ice-cold smile. Slowly, so everyone would have a chance to check out her bod, Jill stood, one hand on her popped hip. Every move Jill made had a motive behind it… Even one as simple as standing up. “Lori Black,” she purred. “So. You’re back then. For good?”

She didn’t sound pleased to see me, despite the smile on her face. For a flicker of a second, I wondered if they were mad at me…but that was absolutely ridiculous. No way they could be pissed because I hadn’t called or texted in my absence. For chrissakes, they didn’t even send my family a condolence card. Most of all, I’d never forget that after texting Jill the time I would be leaving, not one of them had showed to say goodbye.

Part of me had to wonder just why I wanted to put myself through this ordeal. If they wanted to be my friends, I would have heard from them this past year. I wouldn’t have been hurt by their silence. Maybe I was crazy for wanting them back in my life. But senior year would go a hell of a lot more smoothly if I was in their circle rather than out of it. “Seems that way.”

“It’s been a while.” Jill’s face softened. “We’ve missed you around here, Lo.” And with that she pulled me into a gentle hug, her overpowering perfume assaulting my nose. Jill let me go and flicked her hand to the empty seat beside her. “Sit down and tell us all about what you’ve been up to.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my hands and saw they trembled. From Jill’s use of my old nickname, or because being with these girls made me feel as if I’d traveled back in time? Only I had gone back in time and there was a world of difference between us. And still no Derek, either. “There’s not much to tell. What about you guys? I bet you have a lot to fill me in on.”

Sarah giggled. “Rachel got a nose job.”

Rachel gasped and swatted Sarah’s arm. The pair squabbled until everyone forgot about questioning me and remembered how much they loved talking about themselves.

As the girls talked, and talked, and talked, about things and people I had no idea about, I let my eyes roam over the quad, seeing who had changed, who looked the same and who I figured would never, ever change. One face stuck out from the crowd for the simple reason that I’d never seen it before.

And I would remember a face like that.

He sat on the ledge of the fountain, slouched over with one elbow on his knee and fist supporting his cheek. In the other hand he held open a paperback book—the cover both too new and too interesting for it to be required reading from a teacher. Even though he appeared lost in his novel, he looked as though he had intentionally closed himself off to everything around him. He definitely looked as if he didn’t give a crap. He wore dark jeans and a rumpled dark gray T-shirt. His inky black hair shone in the sun, casting rainbows like a raven’s feather, and the shadow of a few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw.

“Hey,” I said, interrupting Rachel’s monologue about the guy she traded makeout sessions for tutoring with. “Who’s the new kid?”

Jill tittered a little laugh. “You?”

I frowned. “I meant the guy at the fountain.”

The girls peered around to look at him before collectively rolling their eyes and turning away.

My eyebrows shot up. I’d never seen my friends dismiss such a hot guy, regardless of who he was or what he was like. So for them to react the way they did, it had to mean he was different from their usual worshipers. “What? Who is he?”

“Don’t waste your time,” Jill muttered. “The guy’s an asshole—a major one. Doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t party, doesn’t do anything. Except read. And glare. A lot.”

My cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t planning on wasting my time. I’m just curious.” I sneaked another glance at him, wishing I hadn’t brought it to the gossipmongers’ attention that I’d noticed him. “Why is he all alone? Doesn’t he have any friends?”

Rachel laughed. “Archer? Seriously, what part of ‘doesn’t talk to anyone’ aren’t you getting?”

I shrugged. “Everyone’s got to have someone, right?”

“Not him. He started here junior year and I haven’t seen him hang out with anyone.” Rachel’s eyes widened, further trying to drive home her point.

The bell rang for homeroom, and I watched him rise to his feet, slowly, and with a huge dose of resignation. I couldn’t help but notice how tall he was. And buff. While hunched over his book it had been hard to see the true extent of his physique, easy to pass him off as lean, bordering on skinny. Now that he stood, I saw the powerful curves of his shoulders, the corded muscles of his arms as he swung a messenger bag over his neck. He wasn’t skinny, far from it. Just really, really…um…wow. Lean and sculpted. From solid rock. The way he moved made my stomach all weird and jittery.

I glanced around, sure I would see a gaggle of girls reacting exactly like me—one notch away from panting like a freaking dog in heat. Nope. Not one person even looked at him, let alone lusted after him.

Rachel and Jill marched in front of me, apparently done with my homecoming. Every school has a student hierarchy. Our clique came with one of its own. Jill was the undisputed queen. Undisputed because no one had the courage to challenge her, lest social suicide occur.

Sarah was—I hate saying it, despite it being completely true—the dumb one, happy enough with simply being in the group at all. She was the sweetest member, the only one not likely to stab you in the back for social leverage. Rachel strove to be next to the top girl, never actually wanting to usurp her, and therefore had the easy acceptance of our fearless leader, Jill.

I had met Jill my first day of freshman year—a force to be reckoned with, even then. Our lockers had been side by side. I’d struggled to figure out how to open mine as the lunchtime crush in the hallway jostled me every other second, but Jill had simply pouted and stuck a hand on her hip.

An upperclassman—a cute one, if I remembered right—had halted and shot her a dazzling smile and had asked if he could help her. She had giggled and touched his arm, saying that would be wonderful. He had opened the locker, but before he’d left, she’d flickered her gaze to me and ordered him—in that way of hers that made you think it was your idea—to open my locker too. He had, paying me about a hundredth of the attention he’d given Jill.

He’d hung around for another minute, no doubt hoping she would repay his kindness somehow, or at the very least act like a simpering female. When she had merely started transferring books to her locker, he had given a half-hearted wave and disappeared into the crowd. I had watched, in awe of her, wondering how one little person could wield that kind of power over another human being. She had closed the locker and flounced down the hall, leaving me in her wake.

In a way, Jill became my obsession. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she would use me just as she used that upperclassman. But if I played by the rules and didn’t rock the boat, Jill could be my ticket through high school and be my social bulletproof vest. If I befriended her then I wouldn’t be alone. After that one encounter on my first day, it was obvious Jill would be powerful later in high-school life. Hell, she had been even back then.

The next day I had come to school prepared. I’d begged and pleaded with my mom to take me shopping the afternoon before, swearing it could be my birthday and Christmas presents for the next fifty years if that’s what it took. I had gotten a whole new wardrobe. Before I was a jeans and a T-shirt girl. Now the only jeans that graced my body were Seven jeans, and the only T-shirts I wore were slashed in the right places to allow for ample cleavage opportunities. Short skirts had become the new staple from that day on, with tiny purses and funky hair slides and makeup worn at all times. And heels. That took some getting used to.

I had also gotten my hair cut into a more stylish look, ensuring for the rest of my high-school career I got up a full two hours earlier than necessary. On the second day of school, when I had opened my locker at lunch and Jill had sidled up next to me, she’d paid attention. I’d watched her size me up in my peripheral vision, probably deciding whether it would be worth being allies or enemies, when she had gasped and grabbed my locker door.

“What?” I had asked, stepping back.

“Where did you get this?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

I had looked at where her manicured fingernail poked at The Howlers band poster taped to my locker door. “At a gig I went to in the summer. Why?”

“I love that band! No one else around here has even heard of them!” And that was it. A local indie band had put me on Jill Myers’ radar.

Rachel had joined us later in the year, earning Jill’s undying respect by hooking up with a senior. Sarah had come last, almost stumbling into our group by accident. Jill, Rachel and I had been having coffee at a place downtown when Sarah had dropped down beside me in the booth. She’d laughed and said she was avoiding her ex who she hadn’t gotten around to telling was an ex yet. After that she had been a permanent feature.

And there we were. The A-Listers. The In Crowd. The Popular People.

Oh, how things had changed.

Once upon a time, I had spoken to all these girls at least twice a day after we’d parted ways, usually texting during class and late into the night. Now I resembled a dog begging for scraps from the dinner table. Rachel had gotten her wish, claiming my spot next to Jill. And the way she laughed at whatever Jill said told me she was threatened by my reappearance, and wouldn’t give up her position without a fight. And Rachel fought dirty.

Only Sarah matched her step with mine, making an effort to talk. “Are you in any of my classes this year?”

I doubted it. Sarah, while lovely and at times sincere, fell short in the brains category. It was the one difference that was always apparent between me and the other girls. While they coasted and focused more on the social side of school, I maintained decent grades. I would never be top of my class, but I also wasn’t at the bottom either. The others weren’t as orientated as me. But I knew exactly where I was going.

I fished my new class schedule from my bag and held it out to Sarah. “Here.”

Sarah gave it a quick once-over. “Aw, that sucks. We don’t have any together.”

“What about Rachel and Jill? Are they in any of my classes?” Maybe things would be really different and suddenly both girls had turned into masterminds while I had been gone.

She shook her head. “None. Looks like you’re on your own.”

Another pang of fear shot through my stomach. Even though my reception had been frosty at best, facing all my classes alone terrified me. Sarah squeezed my arm and gave me a small wave before disappearing in the crowd of the hallway.

I really was alone then.