 
## **Contents**

Front Matter

Monday, Day 1

Tuesday, Day 2

Wednesday, Day 3

Thursday, Day 4

Friday, Day 5

Saturday, Day 6

Sunday, Day 7

Monday, Day 8

Tuesday, Day 9

Wednesday, Day 10

End Note
My Demon

Volume 1

A Serial Project

by S.A. Hunter

© 2015 S.A. Hunter

This work gathers the previously published episodes 1-4 of the serial My Demon.

License Notes:

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people unless permitted by purchase agreement. If you would like to give this book to another person, please download an additional copy for each person.

This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by S.A. Hunter

If you wish to be notified when I publish a new book, or when the next installment of My Demon is published, please sign up for my mailing list. (I promise not to spam you.)

Sign up here.

My Demon Volume 2 is available for purchase.

Other works by S.A. Hunter

Unicorn Bait

Dragon Prey

~The Scary Mary Series~

Scary Mary

Stalking Shadows

Broken Spirits

Strange Girl

Monday, Day 1

I watched the sea of students in blue blazers with unease. They moved back and forth in the south hall, laughing, talking, and calling out to each other. I tightened my grip on my satchel and stepped into the flow. I walked quickly, intent on my goal. Various eyes met mine briefly before sliding away. I kept expecting someone to do a double-take and raise an alarm. I was an interloper. I didn't belong here. My steps quickened. I just needed to get to my first class. Once inside, I'd be safe.

I knew that my fear was irrational. No one was going to point at me and call the guards. They had no reason to do so. I was dressed like all of them, but it felt like a disguise. I looked like one of them, but I wasn't. And I never would be.

This was Noble Academy, the most elite academy in the world. Only the richest and most powerful teens were ever admitted. Until today. I was neither rich nor powerful. I was enrolled because my family couldn't afford to send me anywhere else. If that wasn't irony, then I'd get that question wrong on the SATs. I was admitted as special compensation. I was not here on any academic or athletic scholarship. I was here because my father fixed the toilets, and my mother cooked the meals. They were servants. No, excuse me that wasn't PC anymore, they were staff. Too bad everyone still treated them like servants. I would have rather enrolled anywhere else, but we couldn't afford to send me anywhere. So here I was starting my first day at Noble Academy.

I knew the campus by heart. I'd been wandering through it my whole life, but only ever as a shadow. The Academy was the only home I'd ever known, but I'd never felt like I belonged. Now I was wearing one of the navy blue jackets with the gold N embroidered on the front, right over the heart, and I felt like a stranger in my own skin as I slipped into my very first class. Most of the other students were already there, though they hadn't taken their seats yet. The seat in the far corner looked unclaimed. I slipped into it and stowed my bag. No one greeted me or made eye contact. They all knew each other. They'd probably known each other since preschool. I was a stranger. Someone to close ranks against. That was fine. I just wanted to be left alone.

Prof. Edward arrived a minute after me, arms overflowing with papers as he balanced a coffee cup precariously on top. His dress shirt already sported a coffee stain on the front. He was bald with a halo of wispy gray and black hair. His eyebrows were monstrous. I suspected he purposely combed them up in the morning. It gave his black rimmed glasses the appearance of fringe on top. He had taught at Noble for twenty years now. He liked red wine. Lots of red wine. I'd helped my father collect the empty bottles from his doorstep.

The bell rang, though no one paid it any attention. Prof. Edward made noises for everyone to settle down without actually asking anyone to take their seats. I saw him see me in the back, but he didn't appear to recognize me. I wondered if he would recognize my parents.

A shadow fell across me. I looked up to find a guy frowning down at me.

"You're in my seat," he said.

He hadn't been in the room when I came in. From the looks of him, he appeared to have just arrived. Quite literally. He wasn't wearing a school uniform, and he had no book bag or satchel. He was dressed all in black with silver studs in his ears and a gold Rolex watch on his wrist. He had a great poof of curly brown hair and narrow blue eyes. He was handsome, but there was a malevolence about him that put me on edge.

"There's no assigned seating," I said. I didn't want to give up my seat just because he told me to.

The smile that curled his lips raised goose bumps on my arms.

"I think you're mistaken. You see whatever seat I want is mine. So this seat is mine. If you want, you can sit on my lap."

Was this guy for real? I scanned the rest of the room. All of the other seats had been taken. Where was I supposed to sit? His lap was not an option.

"No," I said.

"What?"

People were beginning to notice us while Prof. Edward took attendance.

"I said no. I'm sitting here, so ipso facto the seat is mine."

"Is that so?" He grabbed the desk and flung it across the room.

It landed with a crash and all of my books spilled out of it.

"What's going on?" Prof. Edward shouted.

I turned to the guy, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Get up."

He didn't give me a chance to move. He leaned down and grabbed me by my jacket lapels and dragged me up.

"I will have no fighting in my classroom!" Prof. Edward shouted.

The guy turned and flashed a smile at the professor. From my vantage point of hanging from his fists, I got a good look at his canines. They were pearly white and very sharp. "Sorry, professor. There appears to be a shortage of seating, and I was discussing with my friend here the best way to rectify that."

"I don't believe I called your name, young man."

"Oh, maybe that's the problem. My parents only registered me this morning. I'm Damien West."

My eyes widened at his name, as well as everyone else's. Among the richie rich, the Wests were the richest. They were also the biggest donors to Noble Academy. Every other building bore the name West. It made giving directions difficult.

Damien turned back and gave me an appraising look. "I don't believe you called my friend's name either."

"I skipped Sarah's name since I could see she was here."

So the old wino did recognize me.

"Well, Sarah needs a seat."

"Yes, Sarah, please go get one out of storage, will you?"

I didn't protest the injustice of having to get a desk and chair when I clearly had both. Logic was obviously no longer in play. Intimidation, violence, and wealth had chased it from the field. Damien let me go, but he had to lay it on thick by smoothing out my lapels and giving me a malignant smile. I backed away from him and out of the room. I was afraid to take my eyes off him like he was a wild animal who would attack me if I looked away. Once I was out the door, I heard Prof. Edward begin his lesson. He wasn't going to hold class for me. I would have to hurry if I didn't want to miss too much. I knew where spare desks and chairs were kept. I went down the hall, listening to the muted voices of teachers from other classrooms.

So Damien West was in my class and he was a psychopath. Lovely. It shouldn't surprise me. I had long ago observed that oodles of money seemed to give people license to lose all common sense and disregard decorum. The more money someone had; the less human they were.

Damien West was rich enough to be demonic. I wondered if that had informed his parents' choice of name.

"Hey, kiddo. Playing hooky already?"

I turned and saw an eye looking out from a crack in the door of a utility closet. I recognized the eye. "No, Red. I need to get a desk and chair. We ran out in my class." I decided not to go into the whole desk hurling and threat of bodily harm that coincided with it.

Red was a handyman like my father. He actually was who'd hired my dad decades ago. He was like family. A regular guest for dinner and always included in holiday celebrations. For the past few years, he'd claimed to be on the verge of retirement, but had never set a date.

From the crack in the door, I saw one of his eyebrows rise. "Well, can't have that." He opened the door and stepped out. He was wearing faded blue overalls and a massive ring of keys strained his right belt loop. I followed him to a nearby storage room. He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I went in and immediately started sneezing from all of the dust. Red lifted a sheet to reveal a battered desk and chair. "Here we go. Grab the chair and we'll be on our way."

I picked up the chair and wondered if Red would have called for my dad if I'd been any other student looking for a desk and chair. I couldn't imagine any of the other students willingly assisting with such a menial task. Of course, I couldn't protest and ask for my father to do this instead. I might wear the uniform but that didn't mean I was treated the same.

We went back to Prof. Edward classroom. I almost knocked but jerked my hand back as I realized that I was about to ask to come in. The act was so ingrained from my parents that it was second nature, but I had every right to be going into this room. I didn't need to ask for permission.

Prof. Edward paused mid-sentence as I came in carrying my chair. Red carried in the desk. He set it in the back for me. I nodded my thanks to him. He doffed his cap with a wink and slipped out of the room. I sat in my new seat and looked around for my books. They were nowhere in sight. Though I didn't want to, I looked over at Damien. He had his feet propped up on my previous desk, leaning back in the chair, flipping through one of my text books. My satchel still hung off the back of the chair. I doubted he'd want to keep my bag. It was lavender with butterflies embroidered on it.

Without any of my school supplies, all I could do was listen to Prof. Edward's lecture. He was giving an overview of England's early history: The various invasions, tribal wars, and living conditions of the early Britons. I listened and hoped to retain some of it without any proper written notes to refer to after class.

As Prof. Edward droned on, I couldn't help glancing over at Damien West. He still had his feet propped up on the desk. He wasn't taking notes. He didn't appear to be paying attention at all. He'd dropped my text book to the floor where it had fallen open face-down. I hoped the pages weren't badly bent. He had a shiny smartphone out and was tapping away at it. Sure, he could have been taking notes that way, but somehow, I highly doubted it. I wondered what I was to do if I had to share more classes with this person. Since we were in History together, the likelihood of us being together in other core classes was very likely. Good God, we could even share all of our core classes. The admission staff sometimes did that. They'd group students they thought would work well together. I hoped they hadn't had some collective bout of dementia and thought I would be good with Damien West.

When class ended, I dawdled, waiting for Damien to rise and abandon my belongings. He didn't budge from his seat. If I continued to wait for him to move, I was going to be late for my next class.

I screwed up my courage and went over to him. "May I have my things?" I asked finally. I kept my voice as even and as pleasant as possible.

He didn't look up from his phone. "I don't know you," he said.

"You wouldn't. My name's Sarah. I'm no one special." I figured debasing myself would be the swiftest way to reclaiming my things.

"You're right about that. But I've never seen you before. What's your last name?"

The room was filling with the next class. Prof. Edward had disappeared when the bell rang. The new students were staying clear of us, but they watched us with curiosity.

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. I just wanted to go to my next class. "Smith," I told him.

Damian's eyes flicked over me before dropping back to his device. "Of the Trinidad Smiths?"

"No." I'd never heard of them. But Smith was such a common name. There were sure to be rich Smiths somewhere in the world. I wasn't related to them though.

The bell for second period rang. I was now officially late. Prof. Edward came back in. "All right everyone, take your—Mr. West, Ms. Smith, you need to go to your next class," he said.

I cast him a dour look. He had to see Damien was holding my belongings hostage. Damien stretched and pocketed his phone. Without comment, he rose and left the room nonchalantly. I quickly scuttled to collect my bag and books. My gaze met Prof. Edward's as I exited. His eyes dropped away with a touch of shame. I had no real issues with Prof. Edward. He was harmless and generally kept to himself, but he could've helped me by being a bit firmer with Damien. I headed toward my next class, hoping to be excused for being tardy, but it seemed I was destined to be super tardy. Someone grabbed my arm as I went down the hall and halted my rush.

"Walk with me," Damien said.

His hand circled my elbow. I turned to him in disbelief.

"I have to get to class," I said and winced at the touch of whine that was in my voice.

"God, don't tell me you're really that boring."

I breathed out through my nose. "Yes, yes, I really am that boring. Please let go of my arm."

His hold tightened instead. It hurt.

"Let go," I repeated, futilely trying to pull free.

"Let's have some fun," he said. I heard the snick of a blade. My eyes darted to his other hand. He had a switch blade. He held it up and placed the knife against the front of my blouse, right between my breasts. He cut off the button with a flick of his wrist. The button pinged when it hit the ground.

This was too much. I screamed, "Help!"

To my surprise, the first person to come to my aid was my dad. He came hurling around the corner. He took in the sight of Damien holding a knife to my chest and gasped.

"Let her go!" he yelled and charged at us.

Strangely, Damien moved in front of me to block my father, instead of putting me between them. Damien brandished his knife, but Dad had a mop. He swung it at Damien and hit him square in the chest. Damien was thrown into the wall. The mop was wet. It splattered his black sweater and face with smelly, dirty water. I darted away and hid behind Dad. I peeked over his shoulder at Damien. I wondered what we should do now. Damien had assaulted me. But would anyone care?

Damien pinched and pulled his soggy sweater away from his body. His nose curled in disgust at the smell of the dirty water. He glared up at my dad.

"You're dead, old man."

He lunged with his knife.

"Dad!" I screamed.

He raised his mop and shoved it into Damien's face. The teen boy went crashing to the ground. Dad moved closer and pressed the mop into his chest to pin him down. Damien glared up at him murderously and wiped his face.

"Sarah, go get help," Dad told me, but there was no need. Security was already in the hall running toward us. They had guns. With all of the high profile children that attended the academy, we had practically a small standing army.

They fanned out and encircled us. I realized with a start that all of their guns were pointed at Dad. "What are you doing? Damien attacked us," I said, moving closer to him.

"David Smith, put down the mop and come with us," Capt. Timmons said. Security and maintenance had never been close, but I'd thought that they'd always had a bit of respect for one another. None of that was in the captain's eyes as he looked at my father.

"He didn't do anything wrong! It was Damien West. He pulled a knife on me," I said.

Dad laid the mop down and put his hands up.

"Sarah, it's going to be all right. You should get to class," he said.

"Are you joking?" I tried to block the guards as they moved in to take Dad by the arms, but they pushed me roughly aside. I stumbled back and watched in horror as they escorted him away.

"Dad!"

He looked back at me with guards all around him. "Don't worry, Sarah," he said. They disappeared around the corner.

Capt. Timmons had remained behind. He knelt in front of Damien West and held out a handkerchief. Damian grabbed the piece of cloth and wiped his face with angry swipes. "I want him shot," he said.

My eyes went wide, and I launched myself at him in blind fury. I wasn't thinking and I didn't care. I managed to slap him once before Capt. Timmons hauled me back.

"Let me go!" I shouted, struggling like a wild animal in the captain's grasp.

"Sarah Smith, calm down," he said.

Damien West had gotten up. Exhaustion more than any sense of returning calm had my struggles lessen. The boy leaned into my face with a smirk.

"That was your father?" he asked.

I spat into his face.

"Sarah!" Capt. Timmons shouted and turned me away.

"Let her go," Damien said.

"Sir?" Capt. Timmons asked.

"Let her go."

"I'm sorry, sir. But she is clearly a danger to your well-being. I will have to escort her to the cells."

My mind was a swirl of incomprehension. That psycho had pulled a knife on me. He was still holding the knife! Yet I was the one in trouble? My father, who'd only meant to protect me, was in trouble?

"Let her go!" Damien screamed.

Capt. Timmons immediately released me. I turned and stared at both of them.

Damien picked up my bag and threw it into my stomach. "Let's go to class," he said.

I clutched my bag like a shield and stepped back from both of them.

Damien held out his hand, beckoning me. "You heard your father. Let's go to class."

Go to class? He was insane. I turned and ran. I had to tell Mom what had happened. We had to save Dad.

As I ran, I heard Capt. Timmons say to Damien, "Sir, if you please, I would like to get a statement from you about what happened. You'll, of course, be excused from class."

I thought I heard Damien sigh, but I was slamming through the doors into the courtyard, headed to the cafeteria. I didn't hear his reply.

I burst into the kitchen and screamed, "Mom!" The bevy of chiefs, cooks, and underlings froze and turned to me in surprise.

Mom immediately left her station to come to me. "Sarah, what are you doing here? You should be in class."

"Security took Dad!"

She gasped. "What? Why?"

Everyone was watching us. Listening in. Lunch prep forgotten. "A student attacked me, and Dad hit him with a mop to get him off me and then security took Dad into custody. What should we do?"

The swinging doors opened behind me. A pair of security guards entered. "Sarah Smith, please come with us."

I turned to stare at them. "What?"

They flanked me and each grabbed an arm. "We need a statement."

"Is she under arrest?" my mother demanded.

"No, ma'am. We just need to speak to her."

"Then take your damn hands off her."

The guards seemed to realize that they had an audience. A large audience, who all had knives. They let go of my arms.

Mom put an arm around me and drew me away from the guards. "We will follow you," she said.

The guards exchanged uncertain looks and turned. Mom turned to say something to Gustav, the head chef. He'd moved to the front of the crowd of onlookers. He held up a hand. "Just go. But we will want all the details when you return," he said with a glint of a smile.

I didn't know what there was to smile about. It felt like my world was crashing down.

Mom ushered me out of the kitchen. The guards had waited for us. They moved in close to escort us, but they didn't reach out to take hold of me again.

Security's HQ was in the central courtyard like the cafeteria. It was a squat, featureless building that looked out of place among the rose bushes and fountains. We were escorted directly to Capt. Timmons's office. When we entered, I saw that Damien West was lounging in an arm chair across from the captain. He was in a school uniform now. He must have had to change due to the mop water. Mom and I weren't offered seats. Damien looked over his shoulder at us and smirked as his eyes went over my mom's apron and cap. I found myself stepping in front of her to shield her from him, but she put her hands on my shoulders and moved me out of the way.

"Capt. Timmons, what is going on? Sarah tells me you took my husband into custody."

The captain nodded toward Damien. "He assaulted this student."

"It was a misunderstanding," Damien said.

Mom crossed her arms. "Is that so?"

Her expression seemed to amuse Damien, who smiled widely back at her.

Capt. Timmons coughed. "Yes, Mr. West assures me that your husband merely over-reacted at seeing his daughter being hit on by him."

"What? That's not what—" I started to protest.

Capt. Timmons continued over me. "And thus, he's willing to drop all charges if Mr. Smith simply apologizes."

"No! What about the knife? He was threatening—"

"Have you informed my husband?" Mom asked.

Why were they speaking over me? Why weren't they listening?

"Mom!"

She gave me a hard look and shook her head.

"He's being brought up now," the captain said.

Mom gave a clipped nod and looked away.

I turned and glared at Damien West. His eyes were already on me. He smiled, and I saw his canines again. I had to look away or be in danger of attacking him once more.

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," Capt. Timmons called.

Dad shuffled into the room. I gasped in horror. He was in shackles. Mom covered her mouth in shock as well. The guards held Dad by the biceps. His legs folded under him and he knelt down. I couldn't tell if the guards were forcing him to kneel or helping him as he got down on his knees. Damien rose and went to stand over him.

"Well?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'm sorry for striking you with a mop. Please forgive me," Dad said, his face pointed at the floor.

I wanted to protest again, but my jaw was locked. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I felt like I was dreaming.

Damien turned to look at me. His smile widened. I couldn't look at him. My eyes dropped to Dad, bowed on the floor. Tears began to burn my eyes.

With an irritated sigh, Damien waved his hand. "Fine. You can let him go."

"Are you sure, sir?" Capt. Timmons asked. I turned incredulous eyes to him. How could he think my dad deserved this?

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Damien said with an edge of steel to his voice.

"No, sir."

The guards pulled Dad up and turned him to leave.

"Where are you taking him?" I protested.

"We have to process him out. Mrs. Smith, you may go with them."

Mom nodded. I moved to follow, but she stopped me. "Go back to class, dear. Everything's okay."

Nothing was okay!

Damien lightly coughed.

I turned and my eyes widened, finding he'd stepped up beside me. I hadn't noticed him come closer. I moved back in fear.

"Sarah, could you show Damien to his classroom?" Capt. Timmons asked.

"Can't one of the guards?" I protested.

Mom and Dad were gone. And by the way Capt. Timmons deferred to Damien, I was practically alone with the psychotic teen. We may have been in the security office, but I feared that if he pulled his knife on me again, no one would lift a finger to stop him. They might even hold me still for him.

"Come on, gorgeous. I promise I won't bite." Damien flashed his teeth at me again.

I turned to Capt. Timmons. He mutely stared back at me.

"Really?" I asked him.

Capt. Timmons looked down at the paperwork on his desk. Damien stepped closer to me and whispered into my ear, "We made an agreement. If you play nice, I drop the charges. Your father goes free and even keeps his job. You should thank me."

My hand shot out and slammed into his face. I'd closed it into a fist this time.

Capt. Timmons leapt up. Damien held up a hand to keep him back. He turned and smiled madly at me again, his lip split from my punch.

"You're gonna be fun to break."

My eyes flew to Capt. Timmons, but he was staring at the top of his desk once again.

Damien grabbed my wrist and strode out of the office. He pulled me along through Security HQ and out to the central courtyard. I tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was too strong.

"Let me go!" I protested.

"No, no, no. We have to go to class. Come along," Damien said in a sing-song voice.

I continued to struggle, but to no avail. I finally looked around in confusion. Damien had dragged me through a side entrance into the gym and science corridor. "What class do you have now?" I asked in confusion.

"What class do you have now?" he countered.

"English."

"What a coincidence. So do I!"

I somehow doubted that. I pulled on his hand. "Then we should go that way," I said, indicating the left. The west corridor was where the English and Foreign Language classes were.

Damien paused and peered down the corridor suspiciously. I rolled my eyes and tugged again. "Come on," I muttered.

I was now in the lead. Damien's hold seemed to tighten on me more as we continued walking. I was going to have a hand-shaped bruise after this.

Second period was more than half over. There wasn't much point in going in, but if it meant getting rid of Damien, I was bursting in, no matter what.

"Is your teacher Prof. Engler, too?" I asked.

"Yep," Damien answered. I looked at him. I still thought he was lying, but I didn't know why he would.

We came to the classroom door. I knocked this time, feeling it was only polite since we were so late.

"Enter," Prof. Engler called in surprise. I opened the door and suddenly found myself flying in from the push Damien gave me. I fell over a desk.

"Hey!" the girl sitting there protested.

I pushed myself upright. "Sorry," I apologized in embarrassment, but then I realized Damien had let me go. I was free of him. I stood up in relief and bowed to Prof. Engler. "Sorry for being late, professor."

"And why are you?" she asked. She sounded a touch cross, which made me wince. Prof. Engler was one of the few instructors I honestly liked. She was a little forgetful and scatterbrained, but she'd always had a smile and a greeting for me and my parents. Most of the faculty pretended we didn't exist when they didn't need something from us.

I suddenly found Damien's arm around my neck. "We were making out," he said and then licked my cheek.

I pushed him away with a wordless groan of revulsion. He stumbled back with that maniacal grin back on his face.

He was insane. Certifiably insane. Why wasn't he institutionalized? Surely money couldn't cover up all of this? The room had erupted into giggles at his antics. I turned and looked around. A few of the guys were slapping each other on the arm and pointing at my chest. I looked down and recalled the button Damien had cut off it. The front of my bra peeked through. I put a hand over it.

"Students, settle down. Mr. West, Ms. Smith, please take seats for what is left of the class."

My face blazing hot, I went to an empty seat and huddled in it. Desks were in pairs. The other desk had a girl with glasses. She looked harmless and only gave me an embarrassed glance. Damien came over and pulled her chair out from under her. She fell to the floor with a squeak. It was lucky she didn't crack her head on the desk when she went down.

"What the hell is your problem?" I shouted at Damien, jumping up. The girl picked herself up and backed away from us.

"Ms. Smith, please sit down," Prof. Engler ordered.

I turned in disbelief to her. She had to have seen what Damien had just done. Damien turned the chair around and straddled it. He reached back and pulled my chair under me. "Sit, Sarah. Prof. Engler wishes to continue class."

I turned to the poor girl whose desk Damien had claimed. She stood in the corner watching us with round eyes. As Prof. Engler returned to her lesson, the girl crept over to an empty desk and sat down. Damien picked up the notebook and handouts that had been on the desk. He looked over them with a frown and pushed them onto my desk. I had to grab them to keep them from falling to the floor. The top handout was the syllabus. I glanced over it to see what the lesson plan was and then looked at the girl's notes. I took out one of my notebooks and copied down what she'd written, as well as jotting down what Prof. Engler was currently saying.

Damien pulled out his phone and started playing some game. I ignored him and focused on Prof. Engler, until a hand landed on my thigh. I shot up. Damien didn't look up from the phone. Prof. Engler paused for a second to blink at me but then continued on with her lesson. I didn't know what to do. Damien's hand had fallen away when I stood at least. They were both on the phone now as he focused on his game. I cautiously sat back down, but scooted my chair away from Damien. I could only put a few inches between us, but I'd take whatever I could get. Thankfully, he didn't reach for me again. If you play nice, I drop the charges. Your father goes free and even keeps his job. There was no way I could do this. I couldn't just let Damien do whatever he wanted to me. But I didn't want to get my parents in trouble. I hated this. I hated Damien. I hated how the rich could just steamroll over everyone. What was I supposed to do?

When the bell rang, I packed up my things and neatly stacked the girl's belongings. I waited for Damien to get up and leave. He did stand, but he didn't leave. He stared at me. I cautiously stood.

"Where to next, honeybun?" he asked with an evil smile.

I frowned at the endearment. "What class do you have next?"

"What class do you have?" he asked in return.

"Doesn't matter. I'll show you to your class and then go to mine."

His eyes narrowed. "We're in all the same classes," he said.

That was a lie. "No, we're not."

"We are if I say we are."

The poor girl with glasses was waiting to retrieve her things. I didn't want to make her wait and/or possibly attract Damien's psychotic attention. I sighed and headed for the door. "Fine, time for Spanish."

"Spanish?" Damien said. I could hear the disdain in his voice.

"Would you like me to take you to a different foreign language class?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah, let's take Japanese."

"Japanese is in here, I think," I said, stopping outside a classroom. Damien stopped as well. But he didn't go in.

I scrunched my brow and looked in. Origami cranes dangled from the ceiling. Yes, this was definitely the Japanese classroom. I turned to head to Spanish class.

"Where are you going?" Damien demanded.

"To Spanish class. Bye."

Spanish class was on the other end of the hall. If I ran, I might beat the bell. I was in the doorway when it sounded. I sighed and gave Profesora Nuñez a smile in greeting. She didn't return my smile. She merely stared.

"Lo siento, profesora."

I whirled around to find Damien behind me. "What are you doing here?"

"En español, Sarah. Por favor," he said.

"Por favor, sentarse," Profesora Nuñez said.

Damien took my wrist and pulled me to the back of the classroom. There weren't any empty desks back there. He stopped at the pair in the far corner and stared at the two guys sitting there. One looked ready to protest, but his partner leaned over and whispered something in his ear. They both packed up and moved to a pair of empty desks at the front of the classroom. Damien pulled out the chair for the desk by the window and pushed me into it and sat down in the other.

I sat there in shock. I turned and blinked at him. "I thought you wanted to take Japanese."

He shrugged and leaned back. "Lo que sea. Esta será una fácil A."

My Spanish was minimal, but I understood that he knew the language. Profesora Nuñez handed out the syllabus and began the first lesson. I took notes while Damien paid no attention.

I didn't understand what was going on. Damien's insistence on shadowing me from class to class was bizarre. Why he had glommed onto me was a mystery.

During class, I realized I needed to use the restroom. I scooted my chair back to get up, but Damien grabbed my wrist, halting me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To the restroom," I said, shaking my wrist.

"Leave everything here," he said.

"I was planning on it." I twisted my wrist to break his hold.

He let me go. "Come straight back, or I'll burn all your stuff."

I cradled my wrist and left the room without looking around to see if anyone had witnessed the exchange. Even if they had seen it, no one would do anything. Once in the hallway, I ran. I went to the nearest girls' restroom and went to a stall. As I was finishing up, two girls entered.

"Have you heard Demon West enrolled?"

"Yeah, I also heard he's already been in the security office for beating someone up."

"Jesus, already? I heard he got kicked out of four different middle schools. I heard he killed a kid at one."

"Yeah, my cousin Rory told me he smashed a kid's head in with a rock."

"Geez, why is he even allowed in here?"

"Because he's a West, of course. His family practically owns this place."

"God, I hope I don't have any classes with him."

"Oh God, me too."

The girls retreated to a pair of stalls. I let myself out and washed my hands. He'd killed a student? Remembering the knife, I didn't doubt it. I walked back to Spanish class. Damien watched me when I came back into the room. His cold blue eyes made me shiver. When I was reseated, he took out his phone and began playing his game again. I sat with my back straight and eyes facing forward, but I couldn't focus on what Profesora Nuñez was saying. All of my attention was on my peripheral vision. I could just make out the flashing colors of Damien's game. Would he grab me again? Did he still have his knife? I hadn't seen Capt. Timmons confiscate it. I had to get away from him. Why'd he have to notice me? I was a nobody. Was that why? If he killed me, would it be easier to cover up?

When the bell rang, I gathered my things. I kept myself from looking at Damien. I didn't want to engage him.

"Where to now?" he asked. His feet were still propped up on the desk. He'd basically walled me in with his body. I couldn't slip out around him.

"It's lunch time," I said.

He smiled. "So what's for lunch?"

"I don't know. You'll have to check the menu. Excuse me," I said, hoping he'd move and let me go.

He didn't move.

I had planned to go home to fix myself lunch. I didn't have permission to eat in the cafeteria that was for paying students.

Though every fiber of my being screamed against it, I said, "I can show you where the cafeteria is."

Damien turned and gave me a knowing look. "But that's not where you're having lunch."

"No," I said and didn't elaborate.

Damien sighed and took his feet off the desk. I waited tensely.

"Fine. Show me to the cafeteria."

We walked down the hall. It was packed with other students, but we were not jostled or pushed. An invisible bubble surrounded us. Or rather, an invisible bubble surrounded Damien. He walked nonchalantly with his hands in his pockets. When the turn to the courtyard came, Damien kept walking. I reached out tentatively and touched his arm. He whirled toward me with his teeth bared. I shrank back, afraid he was about to hit me. He blinked in confusion.

"What?" he asked.

I indicated the turn. "The cafeteria's this way."

He looked and squinted. He held out his elbow. "Here, take my arm."

I shrank back more. "There's no need. We're almost there."

He stared at me and didn't move.

Dammit. He wasn't going to budge unless I did what he said. I reached out and wrapped a hand around his elbow. He reached over and pulled my hand through and didn't let go as his arm clamped down around mine. "That's better," he said.

"For who?" I muttered.

"For whom," he corrected.

"I stand by the question."

He grinned and pulled me along.

Really, he didn't need a guide to find the cafeteria. The stream of students headed there would've shown him the way.

As we approached the entrance, I began to tug on my arm. "What now?" he asked in irritation.

"You're here. Bye."

"Have lunch with me," he said.

Jesus, did the guy have multiple personality disorder? Random short-term amnesia? Black outs? Or was he really a stone-cold psycho? This guy who had threatened me and made my father debase himself wanted me to have lunch with him?

"No, thank you."

"I insist."

I dug in my heels. "Let me go!"

Other students were beginning to stare.

Damien laughed. "Come on, honeybun."

And what was with this honeybun crap?

"No, let me go!"

Damien frowned and continued to drag me toward the cafeteria. I struggled harder.

"Hey, West. I think your girlfriend's trying to break up with you."

Damien stopped and turned to who had spoken. I turned to look as well. It was an upperclassman. Damien's eyes narrowed at who had spoken. "Nash, go suck a dick and die."

A number of girls gasped. The boy named Nash stepped up to Damien. He was several inches taller than him. He had white blond hair and green eyes. He was the very image of a fairytale prince. I knew the name Nash. The Nashes owned a conglomerate of software companies that made money hand over fist. In terms of wealth, he was second to Damien, but still, being the second richest family in the world wasn't something to scoff at.

The upperclassman turned to me and grinned. "Hi, I'm Noah Nash."

Damien pushed me behind him. "She's nobody for you to know."

Noah's eyebrows rose, and he caught my eyes as I peeked over Damien's shoulder. He gave me a winning smile. It was reassuring and friendly. I could feel myself relaxing.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" he asked.

"She's having lunch with me!" Damien shouted.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't going into the cafeteria period. I tried again to tug free of Damien's grasp.

"You can eat with us, too," Noah said to him.

Damien let out a snarl and let me go to slug at Noah. Noah easily stepped out of range. But the best thing was--I was free! I quickly backed into the crowd and scurried away. I didn't hang around to see what happened next. I was sure Noah Nash could handle himself. I felt so light and bouncy now that I wasn't tethered to that psychopath. I slipped out the back to the staff apartment building. I went up to my family's apartment and made a sandwich and ate some chips. I put on a new shirt and switched out the textbooks in my bag for the ones that I'd need for that afternoon. I had algebra, earth sciences, and gym.

When lunch was over, I went to my math class, keeping a wary eye out for Damien, and my ears perked for any chatter about what had happened at lunch.

I got to my algebra class and sat down at a desk in back with a sigh of relief. I prepared for a peaceful period. And it was peaceful for about twenty minutes. Prof. Bolkis was in the middle of explaining simple equation solving when the classroom door slammed open, and Damien stuck in his head to look wildly around. I picked up my notebook and held it up to hide my face. Footsteps approached and a hand slapped my notebook down to my desk. Damien loomed over me.

"Found you," he said, panting.

"Mr. West, are you joining us?" Prof. Bolkis asked with a sniff.

Damien didn't acknowledge him. Desks weren't paired in this class. He jerked his thumb at the guy sitting at the next desk over. The guy moved to another desk without hesitation. Damien pulled the desk over to be against mine. He sat down beside me with a sigh.

"May I continue?" Prof. Bolkis asked with a touch of irritation in his voice now. I held my notebook up again to hide my face but this time from the instructor. Prof. Bolkis scared me a little, not as much as my new desk neighbor, but still.

Damien propped up his feet, pulled out his phone, and began playing a game again.

Was he stalking me? Why did he insist on being in class with me? What did it matter? Especially if he didn't even listen to the class? Why couldn't he terrorize some other poor girl? I didn't exactly wish my fate on anyone else, but why me?

Prof. Bolkis resumed his lecture. I put down my notebook so I could begin taking notes again. It wasn't five minutes before I nearly leapt out of my chair. Damien's hand had fallen on my back. I tensed and sat up straight. He began running his hand up and down my spine. I scooted in my chair and pressed my back to the back of the chair to block his hand, but he made a sound of annoyance.

I looked over at him with equal annoyance. "Keep your hands to yourself," I said.

"No," he said and pulled my bra strap back and snapped me with it.

I arched in surprise and turned to him. I didn't think. I reached over and tipped his chair, making him fall to the ground in a sprawl.

"What in the world is going on back there? I will separate you two if you don't behave," Prof. Bolkis said.

"Yes, please," I replied loudly.

A number of my classmates tittered. Damien jumped to his feet and loomed over me. I looked up at him with an angry glare. The corners of Damien's mouth twitched. He righted his chair and sat back down, but he didn't put up his feet and lean back like before. He scooted in and crossed his hands on the desk top. He turned and gave me a placid look.

I picked up my pen again and continued my notes. Damien sat quietly and politely for the rest of class. He didn't watch Prof. Bolkis. He watched me, reading my notes as I took them. It made me self-conscious, and I messed up a lot, but I soldiered on, ignoring him as best as possible.

When the bell rang, I felt exhausted. As I was exiting the room with Damien right on my heels, Prof. Bolkis called out, "Mr. West, a word please."

I glanced back in surprise that Prof. Bolkis would call Damien back, and was even more surprised when Damien stopped. He reached out to snag my arm to make me stay with him, but I quickly hurried out.

"I'll find you!" he shouted after me.

And I was sure he would, but I would have a little peace in the meantime.

I arrived in Earth Sciences and took a seat at a bench table. No one sat by me. Well, one girl did try but another girl gently pulled her away and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened and she took a seat at another table. Those who'd been in multiple classes with me knew what was going to happen, and I didn't blame them for staying away. Prof. Friedman came in and began class. I took notes, but I was on edge, waiting for the door to fly open and for Damien to come barreling in. I was still waiting when the bell to end class rang. I looked around in disbelief as everyone packed away their things. I'd had a whole class without Damien. What had Prof. Bolkis said to him? Prof. Bolkis might be scary, but he very well could become my new favorite professor.

The last class was here and it was gym. I went to the girls' locker room and lined up to be assigned a locker and issued gym clothes. At Noble Academy, gym clothes were included in tuition the same as uniforms, and they were laundered by the staff every day.

I took my packet of brand new T-shirt and shorts and found my locker. It was by the glasses-wearing girl from my English class. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

Feeling a stab of guilt, I said, "I'm so sorry about today. I swear I had nothing to do with it. That guy is psychotic. Are you okay?"

The girl cowered and gave me an unconvincing nod. "I'm fine."

"Hey, Jenna, what happened?" a girl with short hair asked the shy girl.

"Damien West."

The chatter died down at this soft answer.

"Oh God, please tell me they didn't put him in our gym class. Otherwise, it'll be a bloodbath."

"Why not ask his girlfriend?"

I opened my mouth to vehemently deny the label, but snapped it shut when another girl answered. "He's still picking his schedule."

I turned and saw a girl with beautiful wavy red hair. She was pale to the point of glowing with porcelain skin and a lithe figure. She looked like a fairy princess.

"You're his girlfriend?" I asked incredulously.

"For almost a year. Our first anniversary is in October," she replied with a delicate smile. My mouth fell open as I stared at her.

"For real?"

The girl finished changing and turned to look at me in consternation. "I know Damien can be rather surly, but he's not all bad."

"Could've fooled me," I replied without thinking.

The girls around me tittered.

The redhead raised an imperious eyebrow. "My name is Angela Blackthorne. And you are?"

"Sarah Smith."

Her brow scrunched together as she tried to place my family. I decided to save her the trouble. "I'm not rich. My parents work for Noble. I'm here as a charity case." Might as well lay it all out there.

Angela's face cleared. "Oh, I didn't think they really did that."

"Oh, they do. Staff just doesn't take the Academy up on it. Until now." It was true. Children of faculty or staff had always enrolled at other schools. Noble might be the best, but if one wasn't rich and powerful, there wasn't much point in attending. But again, my parents couldn't afford to send me off so they'd exercised this little used perk. I wondered if the administration was reconsidering this benefit now. There was no way I would ever fit in with these heirs of empires.

"Ladies, please finish changing and go into the gym," Ms. Mueller, the female coach announced.

Chatter died away as we all hurried to finish putting on our gym clothes. I exited with everyone else and went to sit in the bleachers to wait for instruction. On the other side of the gym, the boys were doing the same. Gym was a segregated class. I was grateful for this. I'd never been very athletic or into sports, but gym could become my new favorite class for the simple fact that I didn't have to deal with Damien.

I couldn't believe he had a girlfriend. First of all, I couldn't believe any girl would put up with him, but judging by Angela's demeanor, he must mind his manners with her. I highly doubted she would have stayed with him if he'd licked her face, brandished a knife, grabbed her thigh, or snapped her bra. As I reviewed the litany of wrongs, I bowed my head. This was only the first day of school. He'd done all of that to me in one day. What hell would he put me through tomorrow? Maybe he wouldn't be in my classes tomorrow. Angela had said he was still picking his schedule. Maybe he'd glom onto some other poor soul tomorrow and follow them around. Again, I didn't wish this fate on anyone, but I had to admit that it would be a relief to not have to deal with him.

"Ladies, please pair up."

I looked around for someone to pair with, but I'd barely met anyone. I knew a grand total of two girls' names. Jenna had paired up with the short-haired girl that had spoken to her in the locker room, and there was no way I was pairing with Angela. I just might be the odd girl out. It was to be expected, but my shoulders slumped a little at the realization.

"Would you be my partner?"

I turned in surprise to Angela.

"Really?" I asked in disbelief.

She nodded with a shy smile. I was surprised that she asked me, and I wasn't thrilled with the idea of pairing with her, but considering I had no other options, I couldn't decline her offer.

We got on the floor and spread our legs. We reached across and grabbed each other's hands. As I strained and felt my legs stretch due to Angela's pull, I tried to not look directly at her. She was an enigma that I didn't have any real desire to understand. If she was happy with Damien, I didn't want to hear about it.

There was an angry shout on the boys' side. Angela dropped my hands as we both turned to see what was the commotion. A boy had his hand up to his face and was being held back by a couple of other boys. His hand overflowed and blood dripped onto his shirt.

"You goddamn psycho!" he shouted.

I wasn't surprised to see Damien standing to the side smirking.

"Oh no," Angela breathed.

"Seriously, you date him?" I asked.

"He's not that bad, I swear. Something must have upset him."

I shook my head. It had to be true love. There was no other excuse for it. Damien appeared to look in our direction. Angela gave him a tentative wave in greeting. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"Everyone settle down. Joshua, go to the medical office," Mr. Higgons, the boy's coach said.

"What about him?" Joshua asked, pointing at Damien.

"I didn't see what happened." Coach Higgons said.

"It was an accident," Damien lied, holding his hands up innocently. The two guys helping Joshua had to restrain him to keep him from lunging at the smirking boy. I sympathized entirely with Joshua. The boys escorted Joshua out of the gym. The coach said something to Damien, and he headed to the boys' locker room.

"Ladies, get back to your stretches," Coach Mueller said.

I turned back to Angela, but I froze with my hands outstretched when I saw the tears running down her cheeks.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked.

"He wants so badly to fit in," she said, the tears continuing to flow.

I didn't think that was true at all, but I couldn't voice the protest in the face of her tears. "He'll figure it out. It's just the first day," I muttered.

Angela shook her head and stood up. She went to Coach Mueller and said something softly to her. Coach Mueller nodded and Angela ran to the girls' locker room. I watched her retreating back in disbelief. Coach Mueller came over to me.

"All right, Smith. Let's see if you have any muscles under those sweats."

I rolled my eyes and did the rest of gym class paired with the coach. It wasn't bad. Coach Mueller had a dry sense of humor that I could appreciate, and she wasn't a hard ass. I changed with everyone else in the locker room, but this was the end of my day with them. They would be heading to their dorm rooms or to club meetings. I was headed back to my family's apartment. When I left the gym, I went through a side door to cut across the courtyard.

"Damien, please talk to me."

I froze and looked around. I didn't see Angela, but that had definitely been her voice.

"There's nothing to talk about, Ang. Go do whatever you're supposed to be doing." And the Demon was with her.

Their voices were coming through a hedge. I tiptoed up to it and pushed a few branches out of the way to look through. In a small clearing among the trees, Damien sat on a stone bench with his elbows propped on his knees. Angela stood before him.

"I was thinking of going to the club fair. Come with me."

Damien snorted. "I'm not joining any clubs."

"You don't have to. You could just come to keep me company."

Damien leaned back to look up at her. "You're really pretty today. The school uniform suits you."

Angela delicately blushed and unconsciously preened due to the compliment. Why was she wasting her time with this guy? Couldn't she see he was bad news through and through?

"Have you made any friends?" she asked.

Damien rolled his eyes. "It's the first day."

"Right. Well, have you met anyone interesting?" she asked.

"No. Everyone's boring."

I was mildly offended by that because we had definitely met.

"Well, I met a servant's daughter. I can't believe she's enrolled." My ears perked at this.

"Oh and why not?" he asked. A smirk had crept onto his face.

"Because she'll never fit in. I mean she seems pleasant enough, but you know how some of the others are. She'll be miserable."

And your boyfriend is my primary cause of misery, I silently said. But in general, I knew Angela was right. I would never fit in, but if I could just go unnoticed that would be fine with me.

"I don't know. Maybe she can hold her own." Damien's reply surprised me.

A group of students came out through the side door that I'd used. I jumped back from the hedge in alarm. Damien and Angela had looked up at the noise. I hoped they hadn't seen me peeking through. I ran to the other door and went through, making my way home with a pounding heart. My first day at Noble Academy was finally over.

Tuesday, Day 2

On the next day of class, I sat at the desk I'd brought to Prof. Edward classroom and waited tensely for the day to begin. Everything was sort of back to normal. My dad was back at work, the same as my mom. They hadn't been reprimanded and they counted themselves lucky. Their relief at not getting in trouble infuriated me. Dad hadn't done anything wrong, but since we had no money, we were the ones at fault.

"Hey there, honeybun. Why don't you sit with me?"

My shoulders tensed. I turned my head to glare at Damien West as he came over to stand at my desk. I knitted my hands together and made myself politely decline. "No, thank you."

"Sit with me," he said and this time it wasn't a request.

"No, thank you," I repeated.

The other students were taking their seats. Prof. Edward hadn't come in yet. The room filled with chatter, but I could see that all of them were watching Damien and me, though they quickly turned away if Damien glanced in their direction.

"Are we really going to have to repeat yesterday?" he asked, putting his hands on my desk and leaning into my face.

I slid back and stared at him in disbelief. What was his problem? "I met your girlfriend yesterday."

Damien's eyes slanted away. "Yeah, she told me."

"Maybe you should take classes with her. I'm sure she'd be happy to sit with you."

In answer, Damien picked up my desk and carried it over to the one in the corner. I watched him but stayed in my spot.

He pushed the desks flush together and beckoned me over. I got up, but I headed for the door. I crossed paths with Prof. Edward.

"Sarah, where are you going? I'm about to start class," he said.

"I need to retrieve another desk from storage," I said.

Prof. Edward blinked and looked into the room. He spotted Damien with the two desks.

"It appears we have enough seating today. No need for you to miss anything," he said.

In a low voice, I said, "I would prefer not to sit with him."

In an equally low voice, Prof. Edward replied, "We all must do things we would prefer not to do. Go take your seat, Sarah."

"He touches me," I whispered. I hadn't told my parents about this. I hadn't told anyone. Prof. Edward wouldn't have been my first choice of confidant, but it jumped from my lips without conscious thought.

Prof. Edward's eyes widened. He looked over at Damien sitting at his desk, watching us. "I'll do what I can, Sarah. But please take your seat."

With slumped shoulders, I dragged my chair to my desk. Damien smiled triumphantly. I took out my notebook and pen and pretended he wasn't there.

And pretending was relatively easy because Damien didn't once reach out to grab or touch me. He played on his phone and that was all. Class went by peacefully, though I noticed Prof. Edward did not call on me once, though I often raised my hand to answer his questions. Of course, Damien was never called upon either.

When the bell rang, I gathered my things.

"Have you had breakfast?" Damien asked.

I blinked in surprise at the innocuous question. "Yes," I answered, not sure what else to say but feeling wary.

"Did your mother fix it?" he asked, there was an edge of bite to the question that confused me.

"Yes," I said and stood up, hoping to leave.

He languidly stood up as well. "What'd she make?" he asked. The edge of bite was gone from his voice.

I didn't understand his interest in my meal but couldn't see the harm in answering. "Chocolate-chip pancakes."

His nose wrinkled. "With whipped cream on top?"

I couldn't help laughing. His face and question didn't seem to match at all. Maybe whipped cream perturbed him? "Not today. Only when we have them for dinner," I jokingly said.

"You have pancakes for dinner?"

"Sometimes. You know breakfast for dinner?" I realized the richie rich probably never had breakfast for dinner. I felt a molecule of sadness for him.

We were in the hall now, heading to Prof. Engler's class. "Are you really that poor?" he asked.

The question caught me off guard and arrested my footsteps. I turned to look at him sharply. "It's just something fun we do occasionally."

"Fun?" he asked. He didn't appear to understand the concept at all.

I sighed and started walking again, discarding my momentary ire. "Yeah, we think it's fun. It's like opposite day." I glanced at his face and saw no recognition. "It's something the poor do. Don't worry about it."

We went into Prof. Engler's class and without prompting, I sat down in the desk in the farthest corner. Damien sat down in the one beside it. Everyone else took their seats. The ones around us were the last to be taken. I didn't blame anyone for not wanting to sit near us. I saw Jenna and our eyes met for a moment. She looked like someone I could get along with and be friends, but with Damien right beside me, there was no way I was going to engage her. She was late enough that she had to sit in one of the desks directly in front of us. She sat down cautiously and scooted her chair in all the way. I could tell having Damien directly behind her was unnerving. Well, at least she didn't have him directly beside her. That was far more unnerving.

When Prof. Engler came in, she scanned the room. Her eyes passed over me without any pause or flare of recognition. Her lack of greeting left me cold. I'd requested her specifically among my list of teachers because I thought she'd be friendly with me, not ignore me. I thought I'd feel like I belonged in her class, but so far, hers felt the least welcoming on my schedule.

We were reading the Canterbury Tales in Middle English. It was difficult to understand the archaic language. Prof. Engler would read aloud the phrases for us and have us repeat them. I struggled to shape the proper sounds as I read the text. Damien didn't participate. He didn't even have a book. He carried nothing with him except his phone. Was high school just a formality to him? Why was he here? Why'd his parents even bother to send him?

I took copious notes and tried to ignore my neighbor, except I did get a look at his phone at one point and saw that he wasn't playing a game now. He appeared to be having a long text conversation with someone.

I didn't want to look, but one of my glances did glean this, *He would really like you to be here.* And Damien's reply, *No.*

I quickly turned back to my notes, wishing I hadn't seen anything because there was no way I was going to find out what Damien was texting about and it didn't involve me. It was useless knowledge that was burned into my memory nonetheless.

Damien didn't say anything when it was time to go to the next class. He merely stood and waited for me to gather my things. I'd firmly kept my eyes away from his phone after I saw the little snippet of conversation. He seemed irritated though and I was afraid he was going to express it on me.

We were walking down the hall when Damien grabbed my elbow and jerked me back. I was caught so off-guard I fell into him.

"Watch where you're going, assholes!" he yelled.

A pair of guys had tumbled out of the boys' bathroom roughhousing. They would have crashed into me. They froze at Damien's shout and looked at him. They were sophomores and future pro-hockey players.

They puffed out their chests and advanced on us. I tried to move, but Damien still held both my arms. I was stuck between him and the two larger boys. Was he going to use me as a human shield?

"Oh, no, did we scare your wittle girlfriend?"

"She still looks pretty scared." And the bastards seemed pleased about this. The sophomores moved in to loom over me.

I tried to shrug out of Damien's grasp, but his fingers dug into my arms, his nails biting into my biceps.

Damien didn't say anything.

"I'll give her something to be scared about," one of the sophomores said. He pulled back his arm. Students and teachers were standing all around, but none of them were paying any attention to us. I think if their eyes did land on us, they quickly slid away.

No one was going to help me and I was trapped. I closed my eyes and steeled myself for the punch. There was no avoiding it. I've never been punched. I hoped the worst I got was a black eye, but I was really scared he was going to break my nose.

But the punch didn't come, instead, my nose was pinched and the sophomore said, "Honk, honk."

Damien and the two sophomores burst into laughter. My eyes flew open. The sophomores were slapping each other on the backs and were doubled over with laughter. Damien's shoulders shook as he laughed as well. I could only stare at them in disbelief.

"That was a joke?" I said still not believing, but swiftly growing upset.

Damien slung his arm over my shoulders. "Come on! That was funny. Like hysterical."

One of the sophomores nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was great!"

The other sophomore slapped the arm of his friend. "Dude, did you see the look on her face? Man, I wish we'd recorded it. It was priceless!"

I shoved Damien's arm off me and stalked to Spanish class. I was shaking. My body was full of adrenaline and it had no release. I stopped in the doorway to Spanish and surveyed the desks. The classroom was only half full. The pair of desks in the far corner from the door were empty. That would be where Damien would want to sit.

I didn't go to the back. I sat at the pair of desks right in front of Prof. Nuñez's desk. I waited for Damien to make his appearance. Ready to fight him tooth and nail over where I would sit.

Prof. Nuñez came in, saw where I was sitting and gave me an uncertain smile. I looked back at her impassively. The bell rang and Prof. Nuñez closed the door. Damien had still not shown up. It appeared he would be skipping. Or maybe he had switched to Japanese. What did I care? The less he was in my life the better. I got out my Spanish textbook and notebook and listened to Prof. Nuñez's lesson.

When the bell rang to end class, I gathered my things. Time for lunch and the haven of my family's apartment. Not having Damien on my heels was a relief. I was assured another hour without him. This made me bouncy and chipper. I ducked through a back exit. The apartment building was in view. My feet slapped the sidewalk. I was on auto-pilot.

"Sarah, over here!" Hearing my name surprised me so badly that I tripped on nothing. I caught myself and turned. That had been Angela. When I saw her, I couldn't help staring in amazement. I'd been so set on my path that I hadn't seen the table set up with white tablecloth. Five servants stood ready to the side. They were in crisp black and white uniforms. I didn't recognize any of them. They weren't Noble staff.

Being a staff daughter, of course, I focused on the service rather than the pair sitting at the elegant table. It only took a glance to recognize Angela and Damien though. Angela hopped up and grabbed my hand. "Isn't it great? Damien had it set up." She steered me to an empty chair and gently pushed me down. I realized there were three place settings.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Lunch, silly. What else could it be?" she asked.

My eyes turned to Damien sitting with legs crossed, seemingly ignoring us. "I don't know. Maybe I'll close my eyes and this will suddenly become a game of dodge ball, and I'll get hit repeatedly in the face."

Angela's brow knitted. "Why in the world would you think that?"

Damien had been inspecting his nails. He sighed and let his hand fall to his lap. "Oh, she's still sore over a little trick Andy and Tom played on her earlier."

Angela's eyes widened. "Oh no, those two are awful. What happened?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Damien spoke over me. "It was just a little prank. They pretended to be bullies and scared her a bit."

"They are bullies and so are you." I calmly rose from the chair, determined to go.

Angela shook her head. "Oh, I'm sure they didn't mean anything bad, Sarah."

"If that was them being nice, I'd hate to see them when they're mean."

I turned to leave, but found my way blocked by the strange servants. "Shall we serve the salad, young master?" asked a balding man in his mid-forties. He wore a spotless black coat with tails and a crisp white shirt. He appeared to be the head servant for the group.

Damien waved a hand for them to go ahead. The servants closed in on me, and I found myself slipping back into my seat to avoid bumping into them as they placed plates, poured water, and set napkins. The plate contained a small salad. Being a cook's daughter, I could identify the bed of greens as Arugula. On top, there were some sliced beets with what I thought was goat cheese sprinkled over them.

"Oh, this is lovely," Angela cooed, picking up a fork and knife to dig in. I looked over my shoulder longingly. All I'd wanted was a simple ham sandwich and some potato chips in the privacy of my home.

"Sarah, try this. It's scrumptious," Angela said.

I looked back at the plate. Was this place setting here for me? It seemed so. All I could figure was that Angela must be trying to smooth things over between Damien and me. I wished she'd consulted me before setting all of this up. I shouldn't be rude. She'd gone to a lot of trouble. I took careful note of the utensils she was using and mimicked her. Damien wasn't eating. I carefully cut into the beets and gathered a bite. I'd never actually had goat cheese before. I wasn't sure I would like it. I made the mistake of looking at Damien as I took my first bite and almost dropped the fork when I saw him staring intently at me. My eyes darted nervously to Angela. She was eating her salad and seemed very happy, oblivious to where Damien's attention was pointed.

I looked away and finally allowed myself to take a bite. The salad had a light drizzle of vinegar and oil and had been seasoned with salt and pepper. The beet wasn't pickled like I was used to. It had been cooked. I was surprised at how good the beet tasted in combination with the goat cheese.

"How do you like it, Sarah? It's not breakfast for dinner, but it's pretty good, right?" Damien asked. There was a hint of steel to his words. I once again glanced nervously at Angela. She either didn't detect the aggressive tone in Damien's voice, or she didn't care.

"It's lovely like Angela said," I answered.

Damien picked up a beet with his fingers and dropped it into his mouth.

"Damien, don't be a pig!" Angela protested, but her voice held laughter in it.

I quickly cut and ate the rest of my salad. I didn't want Damien watching me while I ate. It made my stomach twist

Damien was licking his fingers clean as the plates were swept away and the main course was set before us. I looked down at the plate and found it contained things I easily recognized: A thigh and leg of baked chicken, a dollop of mashed potatoes, and French cut green beans.

Damien wasn't waiting for us. He already had his leg in his hand and was tearing bites off of it. Angela was ignoring him and had picked up a different fork which I peered at closely to identify. I picked up the same.

"Just use your fingers," Damien said in exasperation.

"That might be fine for you, Damien, but we ladies don't enjoy the smell of chicken under our nails," Angela replied.

Damien snorted. "We ladies? Are we using the royal we now?"

Angela's eyes darted to me in dismay. I sighed. "The chicken is excellent. Thank you for inviting me," I told her.

"Oh, it wasn't—" she began.

Damien snorted again. "Yeah, she loves to do charity work."

Angela's mouth dropped open. "What are you talking about, Damien? You're the one who set all of this up. It was your idea to—"

"SHUT UP! I DID NOT WANT TO INVITE HER!" Damien shouted into her face.

Angela cowered in her seat at his outburst. A small watery hiccup sounded from her.

Damien threw his chicken leg onto the table. "Oh great, start sniffling. Go ahead."

Angela brought up her napkin to hide face. I rose from my seat and went over to her. I crouched down and patted her back. "Angela, don't worry about it. Thank you for having lunch with me."

Tears were glittering in her eyes. I moved to embrace her, but she sprang up and ran back into the school. I stood up and watched her disappear into the school.

"Wanna split her dessert?" Damien asked.

I turned and grabbed Angela's water glass and threw the liquid into his face. It drenched him and flattened his hair. I turned ready to be grabbed or accosted in some way, but none of the servants reacted. They stood waiting, staring ahead like lifeless automations. I didn't wait for Damien to scream at me. I ran back into the school, hoping to catch up with Angela, but I hadn't seen which way she went once inside. I ducked into the nearest bathroom and called her name but received no answer. I walked down the corridor looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Lunch was three quarters over. I had barely gotten a chance to eat any of the main course of the fancy lunch, and I was still hungry. I didn't dare try to go back to the apartment in case Damien was still out there. I decided to try my luck with the kitchen. I ducked into the back. Lunch service was over, and now cleanup was in full swing. Mom was wiping down her station. I slipped up to her and gave her a hug.

"Sarah, this is a nice surprise," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, it is. Got anything to eat?"

She blew out a breath in amused frustration. "I should've known. Why didn't you eat at the apartment?"

"I got caught up with something and couldn't make it. May I have a piece of fruit or two pieces of fruit?"

Mom shook her head. "Let me see what I can find."

She went to one of the big coolers and looked inside. A crate of oranges sat on top. She grabbed one and gave it to me. "These are left over from breakfast. Do you really want two?"

"No, one's fine," I said. I let her cut it into quarters for me. The bell announcing the end of lunch rang. She turned and pushed me to the door.

"Back to class with you. Next time, pack a lunch if you know you're going to be busy."

I rolled my eyes. I hadn't known. How was I supposed to plan anything with Damien West around? I wondered if he'd continued eating after Angela and I left. I imagined him alone at the fancy table, surrounded by servants, eating silently. He'd probably taken out his cell phone to play a game or text someone. Maybe he texted Andy and Tom to invite them to lunch.

"Hey, there. Almost had an accident."

Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, and I realized I'd almost walked straight into someone while I thought about Damien. Jesus, he caused trouble even when he wasn't around. I looked up and realized my would-be accident was Noah Nash. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My head was in another universe."

Noah gave me an easy smile. "Don't worry about it. Sarah, right?"

I nodded, surprised he remembered my name.

"How's it going with Damien?"

"Oh, you know beside the psychotic tendencies and the homicidal rages, he's a charming boy."

Noah shook his head knowingly. "Yeah, he hasn't changed." He lifted his head and looked me right in the eye. My heart gave a little flutter as I realized just how close he was to me and he had really pretty eyes. "Listen, if you ever need help with him, let me know. Or if you just need to scream about how insane that asshole is, I'll listen."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't really want to put you through that."

Noah squeezed my shoulders and let me go. "Don't worry about it. Just know I'm here for you."

I nodded, trying to calm myself as I could feel my cheeks heating up. Jesus, Noah Nash was really cool and pretty cute. Why couldn't I have been a year older? I wouldn't have minded sharing all my classes with him. Noah gave me another smile. "Well, I'll see you, Sarah Smith."

I smiled. "Bye, Noah Nash."

He grinned and with a wave was gone.

Someone shouted "Slut!" from one of the classroom windows.

I whirled around, but I couldn't see who had done it. It hadn't been Damien, though. I suddenly felt very alone and hurried to class.

Damien was waiting for me when I entered. His hair was as poofy as ever, and his clothes appeared fine. The servants had probably blow dried him after I left. If they did serve Damien's family, they probably came prepared for anything.

Damien pulled out my chair without looking up from his phone. I didn't sit down. Instead I asked, "Why do you want me to sit by you?"

His hand shot out and went under my skirt. He grabbed the back of my thigh, his fingers digging into the muscle. My body spasmed like I'd just stuck a fork into an electric socket. He let go as quickly as he'd grabbed it.

I thwacked the back of his head with my satchel.

His head bounced forward, but it didn't faze him. He still stared at his phone. "Take your seat, Sarah," he said in a bored tone.

"Don't ever do that again," I hissed.

"Make me."

I contemplated hitting him again. Actually, I imagined pummeling him, but that would garner me expulsion, my parents' dismissal, and a new mailing address courtesy of the federal penitentiary system. The rest of class was seated with eyes forward. It appeared that no one had seen Damien touch me. If I reported him, it would be my word against his, and his word had more zeroes attached to it. I didn't know what to do.

"If you don't sit here, I'll make whoever you sit by move. And I won't be pleasant about it."

I already knew that wasn't an idle threat so I cautiously took my seat by him, hyper vigilant of his hands. Prof. Bolkis came into the room and closed the door. He took attendance. He even called Damien and my names. It appeared Damien now officially had a schedule and every class was with me. Joy. He could still switch out though. I was sure the administration would let him. I wondered if they would let me.

Prof. Bolkis went over some equations and wonder of wonders, he actually called Damien to the board to solve one. Damien slouched out of his seat and went up. Everyone went quiet as he passed. Without a word, he took a dry erase marker and worked the problem to the correct answer. Prof. Bolkis nodded his head and told him he could return to his seat.

I watched all of this in amazement. What was it about Prof. Bolkis that garnered him some modicum of respect or at least compliance from Damien? And could he teach me his ways? When class was over, Damien walked with me to Earth Sciences. I half-expected him to disappear like he'd done the day before, but he trailed after me into the lab room and sat down at the same bench with me. I took out my lab book and turned it to the appropriate page. Prof. Friedman came in and distributed all of the materials we would need that day for our assignment. We were to be measuring the curvature of the Earth using world globes and light. I read the instructions and set everything up. It wasn't complicated. I was all set to do it by myself, so jumped when Damien was at my elbow with the tailor's ribbon ready for the next crucial part of the exercise.

"So a birdie told me you were talking to Noah Nash."

His comment startled me. The globe shifted under my hands. I quickly righted it and concentrated on the tailor's ribbon. "I bumped into him, or almost did. It was on my way to class from lunch."

I didn't know why I was giving him such a thorough answer, but I was nervous of Damien's response. He had made his dislike for the charismatic sophomore quite clear. I knew that if he was asking, he wasn't happy about it.

"Don't talk to him."

I frowned and wrote down the measurements before I allowed myself to get distracted again. "You really have no right to say that to me."

"I can say whatever I want to you."

I plugged our findings into the equation. This exercise wasn't supposed to take all of class. We needed to finish up in ten minutes. "Fine, yes, you can say whatever you want. I don't have to listen."

Damien growled and grabbed my arm to turn me to face him. "You'll do whatever I want."

"No, I won't," I said simply. Was I becoming accustomed to his irrational behavior? I didn't know. But I couldn't be bothered to get upset with him. It seemed pointless. I glanced back at the worksheet. I hadn't finished it yet. There were a few more steps to the equation. Damien saw the source of my distraction. He growled and grabbed the worksheet and tore it to shreds.

"Damien West!" Prof. Friedman shouted.

Damien snarled, and before Prof. Friedman could say more, I was being dragged out of the room. Prof. Friedman watched in stunned disbelief. The rest of class seemed to barely notice. I suspected most had already gotten bored with the drama Damien and I invoked.

Once out of the room, Damien flung me across the hall. The back of my head bounced off the wall, causing a headache. I reached up and massaged the sore spot, wondering if a bump would form. Damien panted across from me.

"What is your problem?" I exclaimed. I was upset now.

"You will not speak to Noah Nash anymore! When I tell you to do something, you will do it!"

"No, I'll talk to whoever I want. You have no power over me, so just quit it."

Damien's face twisted in rage. He threw himself at me and pinned me to the wall. I looked past his enraged face to the classroom door. I could see Prof. Friedman through the door's window. He had a cell phone to his ear. I wondered who he was calling.

Damien grabbed my chin and made me look at him. "You are mine!" he shouted into my face.

"Oh, get over yourself," I said and then I kneed him in the balls. The action was so simple. It was almost automatic like when the doctor hits a person's knee with the little hammer. My knee came up and crashed into Damien's groin. His face went blank and a little squeak escaped his mouth. I pushed him off me and he crumbled to the floor, cradling his crotch. Prof. Friedman was still at the door's window. I looked at him, wanting to share my triumph, but his face was frozen in horror. I didn't understand, and then I heard the rapid approach of combat boots.

As the group of six black clad security officers rounded the corner, I got down on my knees and laced my fingers behind my head. Damien still lay curled in a ball on the floor. The team of security guards surrounded us. They didn't have their guns out at least.

"What happened?" one of them demanded.

"He attacked me. I defended myself." A strange calm had come over me. I fully expected to be hauled away and put in shackles. There was no point protesting.

The lead guard crouched by Damien's head. "Mr. West, do you need medical assistance?"

Damien let out a low groan.

"All I did was knee him in the balls. He'll be fine," I said.

The lead guard looked at me sharply. I shrugged. He grunted and turned away. He said something into his headset and got some response. When he turned back, he motioned for the others to pick up Damien.

"You may go back to class, but once the last bell rings, you are to report to Dean Crowe's office."

I could feel the blood draining from my face. Dean Crowe was the big boss. What he said was law for the employees at Noble Academy. Had I gotten my parents in trouble?

"Sarah, go back to class," the security guard repeated.

Numbly, I nodded and stood. I watched the guards unfold an emergency stretcher and set Damien on it. They were going overboard. He could walk. I was sure of it. He moaned pitifully the whole time, but as he was raised, his eyes opened fully and looked directly at me. There was murder in his gaze.

Everything was going to Hell, so why not have fun? That's what went through my head as I stuck my tongue out at him. Damien's eyes widened in fury, but security swept him away before he could fully respond. I turned and found Prof. Friedman still at the door, waiting for me. He let me in without a word.

I slipped in with a quiet thank you and retook my seat. Everyone was staring at me. I felt self-conscious and ducked my head, but it flew up when the first clap sounded. The room swiftly filled with applause.

"Damn, Smith. You gave it to West good."

"Do it again!" someone else cried.

One guy, who I realized was Joshua of the bloody nose, grabbed my arm and held it up high like I was some sort of victorious boxer. "And the world championship belt goes to Sarah "Iron Knees" Smith!" A cheer went up around the room.

I couldn't believe it. I kept turning around to see face after face smiling at me.

Prof. Friedman held up his hands. "All right everyone, excitement's over. Let's finish up shall we?"

I looked down at the floor at my shredded worksheet. "Here, Smith. You can work with us," Joshua said. I cast a quick glance at Prof. Friedman and he nodded in approval. I scooted over to the bench table of the two guys and piggybacked off their work. Their names were Joshua Pierre and Hank Spelman. They were okay. I found myself smiling a number of times at their quips, though the way Joshua kept crowing about how I'd kneed Damien in the balls made me uncomfortable. It wasn't that awesome.

Gym was next. I went to the girls' locker room and began changing. A couple of girls had been in Earth Science with me. They were quick to tell the others what I had done in the previous class. Angela came in and everyone went quiet. I looked at her closely. Her eyes didn't look red or puffy, but it had been a couple of hours since lunch.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded, but didn't verbally reply.

I took a deep breath. I had to tell her. Better she heard it from me now than overhear it later, or worse, hear whatever version of events Damien dreamed up.

"I hurt Damien," I blurted out.

Angela froze and turned to me, mid-dress.

I raised my hands. "It was self-defense. He'd gone off the deep end, screaming I belonged to him and that I had to do whatever he wanted. He had me pinned to the wall. I didn't know what else to do. So I kneed him in the balls."

Angela continued to stare at me.

"I know you care about him, but you gotta know that he has serious issues. He got kicked out of four different middle schools."

"No, he didn't," she said softly.

"What?"

She resumed changing. "He didn't get kicked out of four. It was only three. The fourth one burned down so everyone had to find a new school."

I bit my tongue, but Damien had to have been suspected of arson. Shit, even if it were caused by lightning, it could still be his fault, maybe Damien had pissed off God, and He'd hurled a thunderbolt in frustration. I wouldn't blame Him.

"Okay, so only three schools. Still, I'll say I'm sorry to you, but not to him. He doesn't deserve an apology."

Angela blinked and turned to me. "But he's the one you hurt."

"He hurt me first."

"Violence begets only violence," she said.

"Tell that to Damien. He needs to hear it more than me."

Angela shook her head silently. I followed her out, though I was pretty sure she wouldn't want to have anything more to do with me. Coach had us run laps and circuit training. It was boring and tiring. Angela and I didn't talk, but then again no one did. We were too busy panting for breath. I was relieved when we were released to the locker room, until I remembered my after school appointment. I stopped and stared into my locker blankly. Angela peered at me and touched my arm in concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I blinked, surprised she'd ask. I slipped on my blouse and said, "I have to go see Dean Crowe now about what happened today."

Angela's mouth formed a silent 'O'.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting expelled."

Angela's face darkened. "Surely they wouldn't do anything that extreme."

"I hurt the heir of West Industries. I've had multiple run-ins with him in two days. I'm sure they're deciding the swiftest way to get rid of me. Maybe they'll have a helicopter ready on the pad to send me off. I've never ridden in a helicopter."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Angela muttered. She took my hands. "Should I go with you?"

"What? Why?"

"To argue your case. My father's a federal judge. I'm pretty good at arguments."

I blinked at her again. "You'd do that?"

Angela squeezed my hands. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Were we? I'd known her for two days. I knew next to nothing about her. I hadn't known her father was a federal judge until ten seconds ago. I didn't know what her mother did. She was Damien West's girlfriend. And that just boggled my mind still. And I still hadn't answered.

Angela's face fell.

"I don't know why you'd want to be friends with me," I rushed to say.

Now it was Angela's turn to stare. In a small voice, she said, "Because Damien likes you."

I couldn't stop the guffaw that erupted from me. "Are you serious? Damien despises me. I'm pretty sure he's texting a hitman even as we speak to have me eliminated."

"He likes you," Angela repeated, her voice firmer this time.

I shook my head. "Yeah, he likes me. He threatens me, humiliates me, and straight up scares me because he likes me."

Angela crossed her arms and looked away. "He chose to take all of the same classes as you."

"To torment me! Once I'm kicked out, I'm sure he'll start stalking some other poor student until they're gone from Noble, too."

Angela's mouth twisted. "Then I guess we better make sure they don't kick you out. Come on."

She marched out of the locker room. I finished changing and got my bag. She was waiting just outside. Without a word, she turned and headed toward Dean Crowe's office. I followed behind her, dragging my feet.

Dean Crowe's office was at the front of the school. It was in the center of the administration. I entered the front reception area and a small cadre of secretarial staff buzzed throughout the room, moving from copier to desk, typing, speaking into headsets, placing items into the wall of faculty mailboxes. At the back, stood a tall oak door, polished to shine until it dazzled the eye, and beside it sat Mrs. Wolt, Dean Crowe's personal assistant. Mrs. Wolt had been the personal assistant of five deans. My mother thought she was in her seventies, but retirement was never mentioned. Her eyes glared at me over her horn-rimmed glasses that were probably older than me, "Ms. Smith, you're late," she said.

I looked at the clock which was mounted onto the wall behind her. It was a quarter to four. The school day ended at 3:30pm. "My last class is gym. I needed to shower and change."

Her eyes flipped to Angela. "And Ms. Blackthorne, why are you here?"

"I'm here for Sarah," she said.

Ms. Wolt looked skeptical. She raised a hand to her headset and pressed the talk button. "Dean Crowe, Sarah Smith is here to see you. Angela Blackthorne would like to be added to the appointment."

Dean Crowe said something in reply that we couldn't hear. "Yes, sir. I'll show them in."

She lowered her hand from her headset. "You may go in, ladies."

I turned to the office door and swallowed. To my surprise and gratitude, Angela slipped her hand in mine. "It's going to be okay, Sarah."

With Angela's hand in my cold, sweaty palm, I stepped toward the imposing door. It opened before my hand could reach the door handle. Dad had said something about Dean Crowe having a remote-controlled door installed. Red had a devil of a time installing it.

Angela stepped closer to me and together we filled the doorway and looked in. The dean's office was old school grandeur. The walls on either side were lined with built-in bookcases that held old, well-cared for leather volumes with gold lettering on the spines. The floor was covered with a Persian rug. And the furniture was soft leather. And at the end of the room, behind a large walnut desk sat Dean Crowe. "Sarah, Angela, please come in and have a seat."

We walked down the long room, around the central seating area for small meetings, back to his desk. Dean Crowe had been dean of Noble now for five years. When I'd shadowed Dad as he went around doing odd jobs, we had crossed paths occasionally. The dean would greet Dad and politely inquire after Mom and ask how things were. Dad would chat with him amiably, but there was a formality to it. I'd wisely stayed behind Dad and didn't interject myself. Dean Crowe had occasionally tossed idle questions at me like how did I like my middle school and how was I doing in my classes. I would answer them minimally with Dad filling in any gaps. Dean Crowe was in his fifties with salt and pepper hair. He had the type of paunch that added to his gravitas rather than made him appear out of shape. He was always smartly dressed in brown suits with silk vests and ties and a gold pocket watch whose chain would glint against his belly. He now sat behind his desk with his hands clasped before him. He seemed amused by us more than about to kick me out of the only home I'd ever known. Two chairs were set before his desk. Angela and I had to release our hands to sit.

"Angela, I take it you're concerned for Sarah."

Angela sat primly and folded her hands in her lap. I mimicked her, though I wanted to put my head between my knees and brace for disaster.

"Yes, I want to make sure you don't intend to expel Ms. Smith for what has transpired today."

One of Dean Crowe's eyebrows rose in amusement.

"She did strike Damien West," he said, but his voice held no ire or even admonishment.

Angela nodded with a sniff. "I know, but may I be blunt and say, he had it coming."

My jaw dropped, and I turned to stare at her.

Dean Crowe chuckled. "Yes, well, that isn't really for me to say," he said.

"What does Damien say?" Angela asked.

I steeled myself for whatever outrageous lie he'd given.

Dean Crowe's other eyebrow rose. "Damien has refused to give any statement. All we have is the call Prof. Friedman made alerting us of an altercation between Sarah and Damien."

"What were Prof. Friedman's exact words?" Angela asked.

Dean Crowe raised a piece of paper that must have had the transcript of the call upon it. "His exact words were, 'Send security to the east corridor now. Damien West is assaulting Sarah Smith. He just dragged her out in the middle of class. Oh, God. She's such a sweet child. Damien just threw her against the wall. He's yelling at her. She's yelling back. Oh, Sarah, run, child, just run! Oh no, he's got her pinned. She can't go any—Holy shit, she kneed him in the balls. That's my girl. Oh no, oh no, security's here. She isn't resisting. She isn't resisting. They're letting her come back to class? Well, I'll be damned.'

The call ends there."

I sat there in amused shock. Prof. Friedman had never seemed that interested in me. I'd never thought he was even aware of me. Well, now I understood how the rest of class knew what I had done. I was sure Dean Crowe hadn't done Prof. Friedman's call any justice either, reading it in a flat monotone voice, editing out all of the exclamation marks that had to have been in there. Though that might have been intentional. His eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement when he lowered the paper.

"Well," Angela said. I turned to her and saw she had paled. I reached across to touch her arm.

The amusement faded from Dean Crowe's face. "Angela, would you like to leave now? I assure you, Sarah is not being expelled."

Angela numbly nodded and rose. I rose as well.

"Sarah, stay a moment longer," Dean Crowe said.

I turned back in surprise. Angela continued out of the office. I watched her go in anxiety. I was alone with the dean, and though he had promised expulsion was not in my immediate future, he wouldn't have asked me to stay if he didn't have some sort of punishment in mind.

Dean Crowe clasped his hands before him and gave me a serious look. "Damien West has taken quite the interest in you."

I mutely nodded.

"And I am aware of the fireworks that have been sparking between you two."

Fireworks? More like TNT. I still stayed quiet.

"But you're not afraid of him," Dean Crowe continued.

My head snapped up at that. "He's terrifying," I protested.

Dean Crowe nodded. "Yes, but you're not afraid of him."

"I think you're wrong," I replied.

Dean Crowe peered at me a moment. He lifted another sheet to skim it. "Damien West has registered for every class you're in."

"I know and it's awful." I couldn't lie or hold it back.

"Why do you think he did that?"

"Because he wants to torment me. He insists on sitting right next to me, no matter what. Some of the classrooms don't even have paired seating, but he insists on us sitting at two desks pushed up against each other."

"Oh, the horror," Dean Crowe said with a touch of dry sarcasm.

I inhaled sharply. "No, you don't get to belittle the hell I've been through. He pulled a knife on me, he had my father arrested, he grabs me and throws me around like I'm his personal rag doll and then he touches me in ways I don't want. The fact is I wish you would expel me, because then I'd have to go to another school."

Dean Crowe's face stiffened and he stilled. "He touches you?" he asked and his voice was lower with a hint of growl.

"He licked my face, he grabbed my leg, he snapped my bra, and I don't want any of it. I don't want him touching me, but he thinks it's funny because he doesn't get into any trouble. And why should he? His father owns this school."

I slumped and rubbed my eyes. Oh no, why'd I have to say all of that? What if Dean Crowe decided not only that I needed to go but both my parents did too? I threw my arm across my face. Tears soaked my shirt sleeve. My breathing stuttered as I cried. Dean Crowe emitted a gentle cough, and I felt the touch of cardboard on my arm. I lowered my arm to find him holding out a box of tissues. I took them, my mouth trembling still. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I took deep breathes to calm myself.

Dean Crowe sat quietly watching me. I couldn't meet his eyes. I waited for him to speak.

Dean Crowe sighed. "And yet his response to you is the best we've seen."

My eyebrows rose as I looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Dean Crowe coughed. He looked uncomfortable. He shook his head and picked up yet another sheet on his desk. "Damien West is on the cusp of institutionalization. If he continues to act as he does, they will shove him into a padded cell and throw away the key."

"Sir, maybe they should," I said softly.

Dean Crowe sighed and let the paper fall back to his desk. "He has an IQ of 147. He is capable of great things. If he'd applied himself, he could've finished high school at age twelve. He could've already had his bachelor's degree."

"But instead he set fire to his middle school," I replied flatly.

Dean Crowe looked at me shrewdly. "Did he tell you that?"

I slumped and looked away. "No, but it seems pretty obvious."

"He was out of the country when the school burned."

I shrugged. "He could've hired someone."

Dean Crowe appeared amused. "And why would he have done that?"

"You say he's a genius. I'm willing to go along with that, though I have not seen any hard evidence. But if he's a genius, he's an evil genius."

The dean chuckled. "Very well. So, Sarah, will you help me reform this evil genius?"

I stared at him with round eyes. "And how do you expect me to do that?"

Wednesday, Day 3

When I went to Prof. Edward class, I took the seat in the far back corner without hesitation and waited for Damien. I was ready for him today. Dean Crowe had told me that my kneeing him in the groin hadn't done any lasting damage to him. I knew it was wrong to think this, but I wouldn't have been too upset if I had done a little lasting damage. Nothing too serious, but if he'd had to walk with a limp for a few days, I wouldn't have felt a bit guilty.

Dean Crowe also informed me that Damien could've gone on to gym class but had adamantly refused to go. Strangely, he also refused to accuse me of attacking him. He could've had me put in shackles just like he'd done to my father, but he wouldn't tell Capt. Timmons what had happened. Of course they knew what had happened. Prof. Friedman had given them a play-by-play account in real-time, but without Damien's corroboration, the dean was happy to look the other way, as long as I went along with his mad scheme to rehabilitate the Demon. I was only going along with the plan because the dean said I could kick Damien again if I had to. I was sure I would have to.

While I waited for Damien to arrive, a number of classmates made sure to give me friendly smiles when they caught my eye. A number of the guys shot me thumbs up in approval. Well, I might not have many friends, but it looked like I was developing a fan club.

When Damien did come in, he stopped in the doorway and stared at me. I sat up straight and placed my clasped hands on top of my desk. Then I gave him a big smile. His face darkened. He stomped across the room to loom over me with a dire glare. I fluttered my eyes up at him. He didn't appear amused. I was highly amused though. Now that I had permission from Dean Crowe to nettle Damien, I was going to take full advantage of it.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully.

"What's good about it?" he asked.

I looked out the window. "I don't know—Everything? The sun's shining. The air is warm. Birds are chirping." I took a deep happy breath. "I think it's going to be a wonderful day."

He huffed and slumped down into his seat. "You're being weird," he muttered.

"Nope, I'm being happy. You've never seen me this way before," I said with a touch of bite in my voice.

"Well, stop it. It's annoying."

"Nope." I opened my notebook to the end of my notes as Prof. Edward came into the room.

"Good morning, class. Let's discuss the Magna Carta this morning," Prof. Edward announced, going to his lectern.

I could feel Damien's eyes on me, but I didn't give him the reward of my attention. I looked over my notes and edited them a little. As Prof. Edward launched into his lecture, Damien reached over with a finger extended, but he stopped short of poking me in the cheek.

I turned in annoyance to him. "What?" I asked sotto voce.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing. Now pay attention."

He cast an unimpressed glance toward Prof. Edward. "Why? I just woke up. I don't want to go back to sleep."

I frowned and turned back to taking notes.

He didn't pull out his cell phone. Instead he propped his head in his hand and stared at me as I took notes. I ignored him, warm in the knowledge that if he touched me in any way that I didn't like, I could retaliate with extreme prejudice, so long as I didn't maim him. Dean Crowe had made me promise that.

Damien didn't reach for me though. When it was time to go to our next class, he waited at a respectful distance and walked a foot away from me down the hall. Having personal space around Damien was nice, but it put me on edge because I was sure this would somehow go bad in some way.

At the entrance to Prof. Engler's classroom, he bowed me through the door. I passed by him on edge, but nothing happened. I was sure he was going to goose me or something. I'd been ready to brain him, but he didn't do anything. I went to our desks and set down my bag. I moved to sit down and jumped when Damien was right there with his hands on my chair.

"I was going to tuck it in for you," he said, blinking at me innocently. I didn't believe him for a millisecond. He lifted his hands off the chair and backed away.

"I can scoot it in myself. Thanks," I said warily.

He took his seat and slumped down again. Prof. Engler came in with a cheerful hello for the class. We once again repeated lines of The Canterbury Tales in Middle English. I thought I even saw Damien's mouth moving to form the unfamiliar pronunciations of some of the words. While I had permission to punish Damien when he misbehaved, I was also supposed to reward him when he did well. Dean Crowe made me promise to do that as well. I hadn't expected to have to instigate this part of the reconditioning so early. I was sure I'd have to thump him a few times. And as petty as it sounded, I'd been looking forward to that.

I hadn't figured out a good reward system. Dean Crowe had said attention was enough for someone like Damien. He might have been right, but I wasn't sure how to give it. As we walked to Spanish class, I looked over at him. He was walking beside me with his hands in his pockets. Conversation was a type of attention, right?

"So, what's your favorite subject?" I asked.

He glanced at me in suspicion. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering."

"What's yours?" he countered.

"Art, but I can't take it this year."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to take gym. Next year I can take it, since I don't have to take a math."

"If you skip math next year, you'll have to take a math your senior year." The holy grail of senior year was to have English, four blow-off courses, and a study hall. Most subjects only required us to take three years. If we could complete those in the first three, senior year would be a breeze. English was the only course required all four years. And while only two years were required of gym and health class, they had to be taken during our first two years. When I'd planned out my courses for the next four years, I'd realized it would be easiest to do without Art for one year. It was a tough decision, but it was the only way I could figure out the complicated shell game required to get a study hall during my senior year.

"I know, but it'll be worth it."

"You didn't have to take Spanish this year. You could've blown it off until next year." I blinked in surprise that he was considering my schedule so deeply.

"Yeah, but every way I worked the schedule, I'll have to do one year without art. I decided to get it out of the way early."

"Whatever," he said.

"You still haven't said what your favorite subject is."

"No, I haven't." He turned and let me go first into the classroom.

I didn't step through. I paused and waited for him to answer. He just stared at me. People began to pile up behind me, forcing me relent and go in. So much for this reward. It didn't seem like he was happier or pleased by my attention. Maybe Dean Crowe didn't know what he was talking about. Even if he did have a doctorate in psychology and another in education.

We took our usual seats in the back. Damien immediately pulled out his phone and began playing a game. I let him be. If the professors couldn't bring themselves to call him on his inattentiveness, then I wasn't going to challenge it. I considered my job well done if I kept him from setting fire to his desk.

Profesora Nuñez came in and greeted the class in Spanish. Everyone but Damien replied in kind. He didn't say anything or glance up from his game. We practiced conjugating simple verbs and forming sentences with them. I was writing down all the various forms for the verb escribir, which meant to write.

"You got the vosotros form wrong," Damien said in a bored tone.

I turned to him in surprise. I checked my textbook. He was right. I'd confused the vosotros -er and -ir conjugations. I erased my answer and corrected it. I turned the corrected sheet to show him. He grunted in disinterest and continued to play his game.

I supposed that was good behavior, too. Why was he playing nice? I'd been ready to go toe-to-toe with him again, but so far, he'd been polite. He was completely ruining my day. The boy was diabolical.

I must've gotten everything else right for the rest of class because Damien didn't speak up again. When the bell rang, I realized I hadn't planned how to handle lunch. I couldn't go to the cafeteria and I definitely couldn't take him back to my apartment.

"Well, see you in algebra," he said, standing up.

I blinked at him in shock. "You're going to the cafeteria?"

"Yeah, that's where one usually goes for lunch, except anti-social, know-it-alls."

I frowned at the jab. I didn't want to admit it, but being barred from the cafeteria was a sore spot for me. It was such a clear reminder that I wasn't like the other students. "Yeah, and who'd want to eat with them?" I said, packing up my stuff.

I must not have said that flippantly enough because he didn't leave. He stood there looking at me. I forced a smile as I put on my bag. "I'll see you after lunch."

I moved to leave, but he caught my elbow. I stopped and turned tensely to him. I was primed to hit him with my satchel. It had three textbooks in it. It would knock him back and then some. But he withdrew his hand quickly when I stopped.

"Do you want to have lunch with me?" he asked.

I stared at him in surprise. Shocked he would ask instead of demand that I join him. I wished he had demanded that I join him because then I'd be able to say no with ease. Instead his invitation made me realize I wanted to say yes. I wanted to eat with other students. But that wasn't allowed. I wasn't allowed.

When I didn't respond, he grimaced and pulled out his phone. "Do you want Angela to join us? I can call her for you."

That was thoughtful, dammit. I was dismayed when I felt my eyes begin to sting. I couldn't let him see me cry. I had to get out of there. I tilted my head down to hide my face. "No, go eat with her. I'll see you."

"But what about you?"

I couldn't answer him. I don't know why I couldn't just tell him that I wasn't allowed to eat in the cafeteria. Everyone knew I was poor, that I was there free, that my parents were employees, but it was like this was just something else that set me apart. It was just another piece of proof that I wasn't like them.

"Go have a nice lunch. I'll see you." And then I ran from the room. My face was hot and my vision blurry. I couldn't let myself blink. If I did, my cheeks would get wet.

I heard Damien call my name. His voice made me run faster. I had to get to the apartment. I'd be safe there. I could have my little breakdown and be fine. My hand shook as I swiped my card. I was afraid to look behind me in case I saw Damien. I made sure the door closed and locked behind me. I ran up the stairs to avoid meeting anyone. My cheeks were wet.

When I reached home, I let myself in and leaned against the front door to let my breathing calm. It didn't though. I gulped down air and the panting switched to watery hiccups. I dropped my bag and stumbled over to the couch. I curled up on it and called myself a fool over and over for getting upset about having to eat lunch alone. It was such a stupid thing to get upset over.

I'd always had a few friends growing up. I'd never been super popular, but I'd always had a good circle of friends; Others to sit with and turn to when I felt lonely or bored. I had to give up my circle when I started Noble, but I'd thought I'd be able to manage. Friends weren't everything, I'd thought. I'd been lying to myself. The thought of going home every day to eat lunch and sitting alone in my room every evening made me want to wail and punch the sofa pillows. I needed friends.

I eventually got up and went to the kitchen to eat something. I couldn't skip lunch. I'd be even battier without food. I wondered what Damien had made of my mad dash away. He'd probably shrugged it off.

After lunch, I slipped out of the apartment building and back to class. I couldn't look anyone in the eye as I went down the hall. I knew that most of them probably hadn't seen me run by at the start of lunch, and those that did probably hadn't made anything of it, but I still felt a touch of embarrassment being back among everyone.

My steps slowed when I saw Damien leaning against the wall outside Prof. Bolkis's class. When he saw me, he straightened and gave me a challenging look. I ducked my head, intending to walk by him, but he caught my arm as I went past.

I stopped and looked at him. He peered into my face with a frown. His careful scrutiny made me uncomfortable.

"What?" I demanded, trying not to squirm.

"Have you been crying?"

I could feel my cheeks heating up. Oh no, I hadn't thought to look in a mirror to see how I looked. I wondered how puffy my eyes were. I silently called myself a fool again.

"No, are they red? I got some dust in them during lunch."

He frowned, but let me go. I entered the classroom with him on my heels. We took our seats. But I wanted to hop back up to go to the bathroom and check my face. It was stupid not to have thought about how I looked. I pressed my fingers to my eyes to try and soothe them. Any redness around them would fade and everything would be back to normal soon. I just had to remain upbeat. I pushed any lingering embarrassment and consternation aside. Lunch was over. I was with everyone once again. I just had to get used to eating alone. It wasn't a big deal. But I knew that was a lie. But it was a lie that I had to believe.

Prof. Bolkis's arrival pulled my thoughts away from lunch and loneliness. I was curious to see if he would once again treat Damien as any other student. I pulled out my algebra notebook and laid it on my desk. While I was busy searching for a pencil, Damien swiped my notebook.

"Hey, give that back," I said.

He ignored me and opened it. He turned pages until he came to some blank ones and tore them out. "I need paper for notes," he said. He slid the notebook back over. He then extended an open hand to me.

I looked at the open hand, then at his face. "What?" I asked.

"I need something to write with obviously," he said, shaking his empty hand at me.

I frowned and pulled out another pencil. "I'd have given you the paper and lent you a pencil if you just asked," I said.

His hand closed around the pencil into a fist. He turned away without thanking me.

I sighed. I wasn't sure if this was good or bad behavior. It was good that he was showing an interest in class, but his treatment of me wasn't stellar. I wondered then if algebra was possibly Damien's favorite class. He'd so far behaved the best in it, and he was now interested in taking notes. I didn't know why he simply hadn't said so out in the hall though.

Ten minutes into class, Damien shoved one of his sheets of paper in front of me. At the top of it, in clean, neat print was written, "I'm sorry."

I turned and gave him a disbelieving look. He was intently staring at Prof. Bolkis as he went over the homework. Under his note, I wrote, "For what?" When Prof. Bolkis turned to the board, I slid the sheet back to Damien. I had to be careful. The fact that he was apologizing at all, never mind what it was for, was a big deal. But he had to do better than that.

Damien stared at my reply for far longer than it took to read it. I waited, barely able to keep up with what Prof. Bolkis was saying. Damien finally picked up his pencil and wrote something. He hunched over the sheet so I couldn't read over his shoulder. I told myself to be patient. He wasn't going to be reformed in a day. I didn't need multiple degrees to know that, but this seemed like a huge step.

Damien finally slid the sheet back to me. His hand lay flat over the piece of paper, covering what he wrote. When he lifted it off, I stared at the sheet for a second uncomprehending. It read: "I'm sorry for this." What did that mean? I turned to ask, unmindful of Prof. Bolkis. I was thoroughly perplexed, but things became suddenly clear when Damien's hand shot out again and landed on my thigh. Instead of jumping up like before, I reached down to push it away. But Damien's hand turned and grabbed my wrist and pulled it to his lap. I immediately tried to jerk it back, but his grip was too strong.

He pressed my hand to his stomach and held it there. He hunched over and held my hand immobile. He was panting slightly. His eyes faced forward, intent on Prof. Bolkis, but I was sure he wasn't paying any attention to the lesson. I continued to try to pull my hand free, but it did no good and my trapped hand was beginning to hurt due to all the strain I was putting on it. I relented a moment to think, letting him keep my hand against him. When I stopped fighting him, he pressed my hand harder into his stomach. His quickened breathing caused his abdomen to expand and retract against my palm. I didn't understand what was going on. It wasn't lewd. Or even gross. It was inconvenient as he had my right hand, which I wrote with.

Confused more than anything, I picked up my pencil with my left hand, and with difficulty, wrote, "Damien?" Rather than pass the note back, I turned the paper toward him for a response. I saw him glance at it. I knew he saw my simple question, but he didn't reach for the paper to write a reply. He simply pressed my hand closer and dropped his eyes to the desk.

I began to become concerned. This wasn't an act of spite or malice. He seemed unwell. He was breathing too quickly and there appeared to be sweat on his forehead. I took up the pencil again in my left hand and slowly wrote, "Are you all right?" I turned the paper toward him and his eyes flicked to it.

"Just shut up," he whispered harshly. He laced his fingers through mine and pressed my hand harder against his body.

I thought I saw Prof. Bolkis's eyes flicker back to us, but I didn't know what he thought. I didn't know how we appeared. Could anyone even see that Damien had a hold of my hand? Damien continued to pant and his skin appeared to be growing waxy. A fine tremor had suffused his body. I didn't understand what was going on, but I knew something was wrong.

I ducked my head toward him and softly whispered, "Do you want to go to the clinic?"

Damien wordlessly shook his head. While his right hand held my hand to his stomach, his other hand rubbed up and down my sleeve. I cast a nervous glance to Prof. Bolkis, but he seemed to be completely ignoring us and none of our classmates had looked back and caught our strange situation.

I raised my left hand and pressed it to Damien's damp forehead. He immediately shook my hand off, but I'd touched him long enough to know he didn't appear to have a fever. "Leave me alone," he whispered.

I sighed and dropped my eyes to my trapped hand. His grip had not lessened on it.

Damien swallowed and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose, held it a second and then let it out slowly. He rubbed my hand up and down his chest from his belly button to the hollow of his throat, my hand snagging gently on the buttons of his shirt. Passively, I let him do it, watching as he took calming breathes. I still didn't understand, but I let him do it.

After about ten passes up and down his chest, he stilled and our hands rested once again against his stomach. His breathing was normal and the sweat was drying away. He took one last deep breath, let out a sigh, and then he released my hand. I took it back cautiously, stretching my cramped fingers. Damien grabbed the piece of paper we'd been passing notes on and wrote something on it. He turned it toward me. "Thanks" was written at the bottom. I looked at his face and gave him a nod. He nodded back and balled up the paper. Then he handed it to me with the pencil. I rolled my eyes and took both. I put them in my satchel. Then I refocused on class. I didn't stiffen when I felt Damien's left arm settle on the back of my chair, though I was hyper aware of it throughout the rest of class. I could feel his fingers stroking the ends of my hair.

When the bell rang, I turned to ask Damien what that had all been about, but he shot out of the room. I scrambled to collect my books, intent on chasing him down, but Prof. Bolkis stopped me dead. "Sarah Smith, please stay behind."

The class emptied and no new students came in. This must be Prof. Bolkis's free period. He stacked his papers and put them in an old leather briefcase. I waited nervously.

"Be careful with Damien West," he finally said.

I dropped my eyes, not knowing what he meant. "Dean Crowe asked me to work with him."

Prof. Bolkis softly snorted. "Well, that may be, but Damien may be a little too much for you to deal with."

I couldn't argue with that, but it felt like if I were to continue at Noble Academy, I was going to have to deal with him no matter what. "Did you know him before school?" I asked, realizing they had to have some history for Damien to act differently with him.

Prof. Bolkis nodded. "I tutored him when he was younger."

"When?" I asked. I had trouble imagining Prof. Bolkis teaching a child. He didn't seem patient enough and too stern to do well with kids.

"From when Damien was six to ten years old." My eyebrows rose. That was a long time to tutor someone. I wondered if he was as bratty then as he was now, or if he'd grown into it.

"Does he have a medical condition?" I asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say." I might not have known Spanish or any other foreign languages, but that was easy to translate: Yes, Damien had some sort of condition. I nodded in understanding. Prof. Bolkis picked up his briefcase and leveled a cold stare at me. "Damien needs more than you can give him," he said.

I wanted to squirm due to his assumption that I wanted to help Damien. I was just trying to cope. I was willing to go along with Dean Crowe's mad idea of rehabilitating Damien if that meant I could punch him without fear of harsh reprisal.

Prof. Bolkis sighed and dropped his eyes from mine. "Well, I've said enough. You should hurry to class."

Relieved, I headed to the door, but I turned back before going out. "Professor, do you like Damien?"

Prof. Bolkis squinted as he considered my question. "He was a charming boy, but I'm afraid much of the charm is beginning to fade as he matures, which saddens me, honestly."

I nodded. I still wanted to know more. Questions tingled on the tip of my tongue.

"Go to class, Sarah."

The hint of sternness in his voice had me turning and walking briskly to Earth Sciences. The bell rang as I was in the halls and I increased my pace to a dash to reach the classroom.

When I reached the room, I immediately looked for Damien, but he wasn't there. I sat at my station and waited, but he didn't show. I wondered if he planned to skip a class every day.

"Hey, Sarah. Sit with us. It doesn't look like the Demon's showing."

I turned to Joshua and Hank. I looked to the door again, sure that Damien would make a grand entrance at any moment, but the door remained closed. For the first time, I felt disappointed that the strange boy wasn't there. And the fact that I considered him merely strange and not evil went by unnoticed. I scooted my stool over to Joshua and Hank's station, and we worked together on the lab Prof. Friedman assigned us.

It was a little weird working casually with guys rather than girls. I'd never been a tom boy. I may have preferred handing tools to my father over grabbing things from the fridge for my mother, but that was only because the kitchen intimidated me. It was easy to get under foot, and I'd felt the hot splatter of grease. Following Dad around had been much more peaceful and less likely to hurt. When it came to who I played with, I'd always gravitated to the girls. Joshua and Hank, though, seemed to be happy to consider me one of them. They joked about food and talked about television shows they liked. They were both on the JV basketball team. They had a game Friday night. Joshua managed to pull an unwilling promise to attend from me. I had no interest in sports but trying to outright refuse two of the players was a task beyond me.

We finished the assignment, and when the bell rang, both boys walked out with me. Shoulder to shoulder, we headed toward gym. The boys talked over my head mostly, but they knew I was there. Though I hoped they didn't ask me point blank like Angela, I thought maybe I'd made two new friends.

When I went to the girls' locker room, I noticed a few strange looks from a couple of girls. And I thought one whispered something to another about me. It unnerved me because the way she looked at me was contemptuous. I didn't know what that was about. I changed into my gym clothes, giving Jenna a distracted greeting. She wordlessly nodded to me. Angela changed quietly across the aisle. She kept her back to me, and though I tried to catch her eye, it became apparent that she wasn't interested in talking. I wondered then if she had changed her answer to her question of friendship. I felt a little hollow at the thought.

"All right, ladies. We're going to play a friendly game of dodge ball," Coach Mueller announced.

Groans erupted from multiple feminine throats.

"Man, why can't we play dodge ball?" a boy on the other side loudly complained. Coach Higgons ordered the boys outside to the track. I noticed Damien wasn't over there with the boys.

We were split up into teams. Coach Mueller didn't assign captains to make us go through the agony of who would be picked last. She went down the line assigning us to sides. We split and went to the lines on either side of the court while Coach Mueller, with Jenna's help, placed the balls on the center line. Once Jenna was in position, the coach blew her whistle to start the game. I ran for the center line and grabbed a ball. I wasn't particularly athletic or coordinated, but many of the other girls weren't as well. Those with absolutely no interest in the game were quickly eliminated with Coach Mueller haranguing them for their lack of competitiveness.

I threw multiple times. None of my throws were very hard and hit about half the girls I aimed for. One girl clearly jumped into the ball's path when my throw went a little wide. I had to laugh at her determination to get hit.

Soon it was down to only a handful of girls, me among them. These girls were the sporty types. They played basketball or volleyball. They weren't afraid to throw a little harder or to attempt catches. Some girls cycled on and off the court as catches were made. I hadn't been out yet. I didn't exactly have a burning desire to win, but my pride wouldn't let me go out easy.

Angela was on my team. She hadn't taken an easy out either. She ran and dodged well. Jenna's friend, who seemed quite sporty, was on our team as well. When she was taken out, I realized we really needed her back in if we were to stay in the game. I started watching for easy balls to catch. We'd been playing for probably thirty minutes. I was slick with sweat and winded. Angela got knocked out with a ball to her side. She made a sound of pain.

"Ang?" I called, concerned she'd been hurt. She walked off the court rubbing her arm. The skin reddening where she'd been hit. I looked at the opposing team. They were all smiling, but this was no longer a playful game. Three girls on the other side had balls, and I realized they'd all chosen me as their next target. I grabbed a ball, and threw at a girl that wasn't holding anything. I threw it underhand, an easy catch. The girl I threw it at stepped back and dodged it instead of catching and letting me go out.

There were two other girls still on my team in the game, Jenna among them, but the other team wasn't paying attention to them. All eyes were on me. I finally stilled and swallowed. Better to get it over with now and not draw it out. The three balls flew at me. But I couldn't stay still. I wasn't a martyr. I dropped and lunged away. All three balls missed me. I grinned triumphantly.

The ball that hit me in the face came from my own team.

Coach Mueller blew her whistle stopping the game. "What the hell was that Hannigan?" she shouted.

I fell to the floor. My eye stung and that side of my face burned. Angela ran onto the court and crouched by me. "Sarah, are you all right?"

I pressed my face into my bicep, panting and shaking a little.

"The ball slipped," Jenna said, but it was such an obvious lie. I didn't understand why she would want to hurt me though. She'd seemed nice. Nonthreatening. Now, she stood over me with her fists clenched. I couldn't see her eyes due to the glare of her glasses.

"Hit the showers, ladies."

I stood slowly with Angela helping me up. Coach Mueller came over and lifted my chin to look at where I'd been hit. "Let's get you some ice," she said.

I nodded unhappily. Coach Mueller's office was right inside the locker room. We crowded into the small cramped space. Coach went to a mini fridge in the corner and pulled out a blue ice pack. She wrapped it in a paper towel and handed it to me. I took it and gingerly pressed it to my face. Coach nodded at a chair for me to sit. She then said to Angela, "Blackthorne, go get changed."

"I'd like to stay with Sarah."

"You don't have to," the coach countered.

"It's okay, Ang. I'll be fine," I said.

Angela squeezed my shoulder. "Are you sure?"

I nodded and waved at her. "Yeah, go on."

Reluctantly she left, looking back at me worriedly before exiting the office.

Coach Mueller sat at her desk and shuffled some papers. "So what did you do to piss off Hannigan?" she asked, looking at the papers she picked up.

I shrugged. "I have no idea. I've barely said more than hello to her."

Coach Mueller frowned. "I hear you're friends with Damien West."

I sighed. "Not really, but we're in all of the same classes and he likes to torment me."

"Did Damien possibly do something to Hannigan?"

I sat back in surprise at the question. Damien had pulled her chair out from under her on the first day, but I couldn't believe she would hold a grudge against me for that. But could Damien have done something else to her? After school maybe? But still, why target me if she had a beef with him? Everyone had to know I wasn't his friend.

"I don't know," I said, deciding not to mention the chair incident. It just didn't seem like the right path. I remembered Jenna's clenched fists after she'd struck me. Usually that would indicate rage, but in her case, I suspected something else.

Coach Mueller pressed her lips together and laid down her papers. "Smith, you're a good kid. I like you. So I'm gonna tell you this even though I should keep my mouth shut, steer clear of West. He'll bring you nothing but grief."

I dropped my head with a nod. "I know, Coach, but Damien seems intent on steering into me."

Coach Mueller sighed and turned to the computer by her desk. "How's your face feeling?"

I removed the ice pack to check. "It's still a bit sore."

"Yeah, Hannigan slammed that ball into you. It was pretty cold-blooded."

"But you aren't gonna give her detention," I said.

"She said it was an accident and students are believed over teachers. At least these students." She stopped and dropped her eyes. "Sorry, Smith."

"No, it's all right. I still don't know why she even did it."

Girls had been filtering out of the locker room as we talked. I couldn't hear any showers going. It looked like they were all gone. I got up and handed the ice pack back to the coach. She took it grimly. I turned to leave, but she called out to me. "Smith, be careful. You may attend Noble, but you aren't one of those students."

I turned back and gave her a grim nod. "Oh, I know. Trust me on that."

Wanting to just go home, I skipped taking a shower and changed into my uniform. When I looked in a mirror, I saw that I was developing a black eye. Well, at least my nose wasn't broken.

As I cleared the exit of the locker room, I was grabbed and spun around. I flinched and tried to bring up my arms to protect myself.

"What the hell happened?" Damien demanded, pushing me against the wall and bringing us nose-to-nose.

I struggled to get free of him. "Let go, Damien!"

He ignored me. "Angela said it was some girl named Jenna."

I continued to struggle. "Get off me!"

"Tell me what happened!"

Had Angela gone straight to him? Why would she think telling him was a good idea? Also where was she?

I clenched my fists in exasperation. "I got hit in the face with a dodge ball. There's nothing to tell. Let. Me. Go!"

He seemed to become aware of himself. His eyes darted over my face and to his hands. He jerked them off me and took a step back. "Angela said it was intentional."

I took a deep breath in relief at having personal space again. I considered his question. I didn't know why he was so interested, and I suspected that I should tell him as little as possible. I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Did you hit her back?"

"What? No. Coach stopped the game immediately."

"So you need to get revenge." Damien's mouth curled into a creepy smile.

"No, I need to get home."

He rolled his eyes. "You can't possibly be thinking of letting her get away with it."

"Yes, I am. I don't know why she decided to attack me, but it's over."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "So she did do it on purpose."

"I don't know! If she did, I don't know why she did. I barely know her. Just drop it."

He crossed his arms and looked unhappy. I didn't know what he had to be unhappy about. I was the one with the black eye. I turned to leave, but he reached out and grabbed my arm. I turned and started slapping his hand. "Stop it! Stop grabbing me! Let go!"

He let me go and held up his hands. "Sorry," he muttered.

But his apology barely registered. I kept speaking, "What is with you? Why do you think you can just do whatever you want with me? Am I a toy or something to you? Stop grabbing me and touching me whenever you want. I don't like it. It's not right. You don't have the right. I may not be rich, but I'm still a person, goddammit." I stopped and took a shaky breath.

"Don't cry," he murmured.

"Then stop doing your damnedest to upset me!" And that did it. I covered my eyes and slumped against the wall, my bruised eye hurting as I rubbed the tears away.

He just stood there staring at me as I sniffled.

What was I even doing here? I wanted to go home, but I'd rather not upset my parents by showing up with a tear-stained face. They were going to have enough questions when they saw the black eye. Damien moved to lean against the wall beside me, but he kept a foot of space between us.

"I am trying not to touch you," he said.

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"The dean showed me a video of you in his office. I saw how much I'd upset you."

My mouth dried up and my body went cold. "He was videotaping me?" I felt betrayed. Violated.

He shrugged. "Yeah, he videotapes everything. He called me into his office last night and showed it to me. I-I don't mean to upset you."

I laughed, but it cut my throat as it came out. "What do you mean to do?"

He was looking at his hands. Rubbing them, twisting the rings on his fingers. I watched him and waited. "I don't know. I just have to reach out occasionally. Touch someone. It helps."

"Helps what?" I remembered his odd behavior earlier in Prof. Bolkis's class, him holding my hand against his body. It was so odd. It hadn't upset me, but it had definitely confused me.

He didn't answer.

I pushed off the wall and turned to him. "I need to get home."

Damien lifted his eyes to me and nodded. "Yeah, go home. See your parents."

He looked sad. Lonely.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I guess I should eat."

"You could go find Angela or Andy and Tom."

He sighed. "Why?"

"So you're not alone."

Damien's eyes flashed when he looked at me. "Oh, do you think I need watching? A babysitter? I don't need anyone."

"Everybody needs someone," I said.

Damien pushed off the wall, his hands reaching out to grab me. I stepped back in fear. He stopped and dropped them to his sides. He turned his face away from me. "I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth.

I knew better than to argue with him. "Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow," I said, picking up my bag and turning to go.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," he said to my back.

I looked back, and he was leaning against the wall again. I wondered how long he would stay there.

Thursday, Day 4

Mom fussed over me half the night because of the black eye. Dad stayed quiet for the most part, but he had asked a few pointed questions that had put me on edge, one of which was if Damien West had been the one to hit me. At least I'd been able to assure him honestly that it wasn't him. I'd told them Jenna's lie that it had been an accident. They'd nodded, but I was sure they knew it was a lie also.

Overnight, the black eye had darkened to a classic purple ring. Mom carefully spread concealer around it to try to hide it, but I'd washed my face afterward. The bruise had still been visible and it had felt weird wearing all of that makeup.

Everyone did double takes when they saw me. I didn't know how widely known the truth was. If they didn't know, I bet they assumed Damien had done it. I would have liked to correct them all, but short of wearing a sign saying, "Damien West did not give me a black eye," there was no hope of stopping the rumors.

Damien was already in class when I arrived. I went over to our desks and said good morning. He grunted in reply. He had his feet up on the desk and was looking at something on his phone. I got my things out and waited for class to start. As I waited, I thought about Jenna. I wanted to know why she'd done what she did. But I didn't know when I could ask her. I didn't want Damien around, but I was leery of trying to talk to her during gym.

Prof. Edward came in and started class. I could tell when he saw me. He stiffened a moment and his voice faltered. I gave a slight shake of my head and a little smile to indicate the black eye wasn't anything serious and not Damien's doing. He quickly recovered and continued talking. I took notes while Damien remained immersed in his phone. I glanced at it and saw he was playing some match three game. I rolled my eyes and focused back on my notebook.

When class was over, Damien escorted me to Prof. Engler's class. And I meant escorted. He walked at my shoulder and glared at everyone around us. He stayed close, taking the exact same steps as me. I wasn't sure if this was good or bad behavior. I didn't worry about it too much because something more pressing distracted me. Jenna shared English with us. I looked for her as soon as we went in. For the past two days, she'd sat directly in front of us, but today, she'd claimed a desk in the back opposite corner of where we usually sat.

I kept my eyes on her as I moved through the classroom. She sat stiffly, staring at her textbook. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to see my face. Damien noticed where my attention was and broke away from me to go to her. Alarms began going off in my head.

I dropped my bag and lunged to stop him.

"Was it you?" he demanded.

Jenna's eyes grew round, and she drew back as Damien grabbed her desk and leaned over it into her face.

"Damien, stop," I said.

Jenna's eyes flicked to me and widened more.

"It was you," he said and shoved the desk away. He reached out and pulled Jenna out of her chair. She cried out in fear.

I put a hand on Damien's arm. "Hey, stop," I said, trying to stay calm.

My words seemed to have no impact on him. Damien's face twisted in rage, and he threw Jenna into the wall. She crashed into it with another cry, but this time it was from pain.

"Damien!" I shouted, rushing to Jenna's side.

He closed in on us. I put myself in front of Jenna to block him. "Move out of the way, Sarah," he said, panting.

I shook my head. "No, Damien. You need to calm down. Go sit down."

His jaw dropped. "You're going to protect her? She hurt you!"

Jenna whimpered behind me.

"Damien, sit," I repeated, mentally flinching at how that sounded.

He wordlessly yelled and grabbed me, swinging me away from Jenna. He let me go and turned back to the cowering girl. He raised his arm. His hand was clenched in a fist. I didn't think. I threw myself at him. We crashed to the floor. It was a total confusion of limbs for a few seconds. Damien's arms went around me. Our legs tangled together. I'd landed on my back with Damien on top. He got onto his knees and crouched over me. We stared at each other, and I wondered if he'd take a swing at me.

The text message alert broke whatever strange pall that had fallen over us. But it wasn't Damien's phone that had beeped. I turned and watched Jenna pull out a phone and look at it. She gasped and lowered it. Her eyes met mine. I didn't understand the sudden horror that crossed her face. I watched in confusion as she stepped forward and swung back her leg. I still didn't understand. The leg swung forward and Damien lunged forward to block the kick. Instead of my head, Jenna's foot connected with Damien's side.

The room gasped. Jenna stumbled back, falling down. Her face covered in abject terror now. With a hand pressed to his side, Damien stood up. There was a smile on his face. It looked murderous.

"Jenna Hannigan, you are under arrest."

I turned and was surprised, but relieved, to find three black clad security officers ranged out in front of the class. Their guns were holstered, but they had their hands on the pistol butts. Damien turned to the security force in annoyance.

"I'll take care of her," he said.

My eyes widened. I got up, but I didn't know what to do. I looked at Jenna helplessly. She'd tried to attack me again. But it still made no sense. Whatever text message she'd received was somehow involved.

"Please, sir. Let us take care of this," the lead guard requested.

Damien took a menacing step toward Jenna. Would security stand by while Damien attacked Jenna? I was afraid the answer might be yes. I grabbed Damien from behind and pulled him back. "Get her out of here," I said.

Damien struggled to throw me off.

"Quit it. I need you to do something for me," I said softly into his ear. Damien stiffened and his struggles slackened.

The security guards worked fast. Two grabbed Jenna by the arms and hauled her out. The third one backed out, keeping an eye on us. Once they were gone, I let Damien go. He jerked away and turned to me with a glare.

Prof. Engler cautiously crept into the room and took up position at the front. No one paid any attention to her. All eyes were on Damien and me. Damien noticed all of the attention, and his face twisted in disgust. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. I didn't resist. Once we were out of the classroom, Damien let me go. He put his hands on his hips and paced the width of the hall, breathing heavily. "What do you want me to do to her?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Without an immediate answer, Damien came to stand in front of me. His gaze was blank.

"How's your side?" I asked instead.

"Fine. I doubt I'll even get a bruise."

I nodded in relief. "You didn't have to do that."

Damien snorted. "What did you want me to do? She's getting expelled even as we speak. What else do you want?"

My eyes widened. "What? But—"

"She struck me," he said.

Funny how kicking Damien garnered immediate expulsion while giving me a black eye didn't even warrant detention. Then again, "I've hit you before. Why am I still here?"

Damien blinked and looked away. "That's different."

"How? I've hurt you plenty of times." It probably wasn't smart to remind him of this, but I was honestly curious.

Damien crossed his arms. "It's different because I say it's different. If you weren't going to ask for Jenna to be expelled, what did you want?"

"I want to know who texted her right before she kicked you. I think the text was what made her do it."

"So you think other people want to hurt you?"

I froze with mouth open at the question. I hadn't really thought of it that way. I didn't know why anyone would want to hurt me. "Can you find out what's on her phone?" I asked, deciding to ignore the question for now.

Damien nodded. "Fine. I'll ask security to confiscate it and find out what's on it."

"Does she really need to be expelled?" I asked.

Damien frowned as he looked at me.

"If someone's making her attack me, they should be the ones expelled not her."

"If she can't stand up for herself, what use is she?" Damien countered, and that was an interesting thing for him to say. It might account partly for my continued attendance at Noble.

"Let's not do anything until we know what's on her phone," I said.

He sighed. "Fine. Do you want to come to security with me?"

I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say. After my last visit to security's HQ, I would rather avoid the place, but if I could know what Jenna's story was, I might be willing to brave it, but what about class? I doubted I had Damien's unlimited excused absences. I stood there indecisively. My eyes darting around as I considered my options.

Damien took my shoulders and pushed me toward the door. "Go back to class, I'll tell you whatever I find out."

I resisted. "Are you sure?"

He gave me a hard shove. "Yes, go back to class."

I opened the door and slid back in. Everyone openly stared at me as I went to my seat, even Prof. Engler. I sat at my desk and looked at the empty seat beside me. I was already regretting my choice. I was afraid to find out what exactly Damien would do on his own.

Prof. Engler resumed her lecture, and I let myself fall into the ebb and flow of Middle English.

When the bell rang, Damien still hadn't returned. I didn't know how long whatever was happening with Jenna would take. I hoped Damien did keep her from being expelled. I just knew that she wasn't entirely to blame for her actions. Someone was making her attack me. We had to find out why and how. I went to Spanish class and sat by myself. I found myself watching the door when I should've been listening to Prof. Nuñez. Whenever anyone passed by, I went on alert, expecting Damien. But it was never him.

When the bell rang, I packed my things slowly, still hoping for Damien to appear, but he didn't. When I exited the room though, I was surprised to find Andy and Tom waiting.

"Damien's in the security office," I told them.

They took up positions on either side of me. "We know. He asked us to walk you to lunch."

I frowned. "I don't eat in the cafeteria."

"Fine, we'll walk you wherever you need to go."

"There's no need," I said.

Tom grinned and held up his phone. A text from Damien was displayed. *Go everywhere with her. Don't leave her alone. I mean it. Don't let her talk you out of it.*

I read the text in exasperation. "This is ridiculous. I don't need bodyguards."

Andy shrugged. "Not our call. Damien says go with you. We go."

"But why? Why do you listen to him?"

"Uh, because he's a West."

"And we're not," Tom finished.

I shook my head. I looked closely at the two sophomores. They just grinned back. They weren't going to be dissuaded. I sighed. "Fine, but you can't come into my home."

"What we're not good enough to invite in?" Andy asked.

I frowned. "No, that's not it." I didn't know how to explain it. Instead I turned and headed for home.

Being escorted by Tom and Andy wasn't like walking with Damien. They didn't have his invisible force field, but physically, they were formidable. I wouldn't admit it, but having the two hulking brutes with me made me feel safer.

When I reached the iron door to the apartment building, I glanced back at the two sophomores. I wasn't sure if students had ever been in the lobby. I swiped my card and pushed the door open. Like security HQ, the employee apartment building was nondescript, though it had more windows. I stopped when I saw the "Out of Order" sign on the elevator.

"Again?" I said.

The elevator had been breaking down the past few months. Red said it needed replacement, but the parts were back ordered.

"Guys, really, no one's going to get me in here. Go get lunch and come back ten minutes before the end. That makes a lot more sense."

Andy and Tom looked at each other.

"My home is five flights up, and I already said you couldn't come in."

Andy pulled out his phone and typed a text, probably to Damien. I waited with them for his reply. The text alarm sounded only a minute later. Andy showed it to Tom. He nodded and they turned to go.

"What'd he say?" I asked.

In reply, Andy opened the door and held it for Damien. My eyes widened. There was absolutely no way I was letting Damien into my family's apartment.

"Great, you guys can all go have lunch together in the cafeteria. See you in fourth period, Damien." I turned and headed for the stairs.

"Don't you want to know what I found out?" he asked.

I wrinkled my nose. He knew I wanted to know. I stopped and swung back around. "What did you find out?"

He smiled and came over to open the stairwell door for me. "We can discuss it over lunch."

"No, Damien."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm not letting you in my apartment."

"Why not?"

"Because that's ours. You may own the school, but the apartment is ours."

Damien's brow furrowed and he frowned. "What are you talking about?"

I pointed at the entrance door. "My card works on that door. It has since I was tall enough to swipe my own card. Your card doesn't. I can't eat in the cafeteria, but it's okay because you guys can't come in here."

"I could get my card to work if I wanted to," he said.

"Why would you? You don't live here. This is my family's home. And I don't want you coming in and sneering at it. Yes, the elevator's broken and the stairwell smells like stale cigarettes and there's a water stain covering half the ceiling in the hallway, but this is where I live."

I shut my mouth and looked away. Dammit, I wasn't saying it right, and I could feel how hot my face was becoming. I didn't want to be ashamed of my home. I never had been before, but it would never compare to these richie riches' homes, they of the small island villas, ski lodges, and vineyards. My home would be a dump, and I didn't want him looking at it that way.

"Sarah..." He let the stairwell door close.

I turned away. I couldn't look at him.

"I'll be back by twelve fifty. Don't go anywhere without me."

I nodded, still unable to look at him. The entrance door swung closed with a creak. It needed oil again.

I made a sandwich and ate a handful of potato chips. I couldn't really taste any of it. When the clock read twelve forty-eight, I made my way down the stairs. When I stuck my head outside, Damien was waiting just on the other side. I slunk out and joined him. I didn't know what to say. But I knew asking him about lunch was the worst possible question.

"The text was sent from a burner phone. Security is setting up a trace if it pings off the Academy's cell tower, but for right now, we don't know who sent it. The text said, "Kick her."

I nodded. "What about Jenna? Did she say anything?"

Damien shook his head. "No, she refused to rat out who put her up to the attacks. Dean Crowe offered to not expel her if she simply gave up her co-conspirators, but she still refused. Her parents are on their way to pick her up now."

I hugged myself, suddenly feeling very cold. "So she's expelled."

"Yep."

I gave Damien a sharp look. But he was staring away from me. I couldn't read his expression. "Thanks for trying."

"Oh, I'm not done."

"What else is there to do?"

"Find out who targeted you of course."

I frowned. "I still don't know why anyone would have it out for me. I'm no one."

"No, you're not."

"I'm the daughter of a pair of servants. I'm a threat to no one."

"So? Doesn't mean you're nobody," Damien muttered.

That was actually a really nice thing to say. I squinted at him. "You okay?" I asked.

Damien gave me a confused look. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

I laughed softly. "Nothing. Let's get to class."

We made our way to algebra. Was Coach Mueller right? Could my relationship with Damien, whatever it was, be making me a target? Was that why Jenna was told to attack me? Damien wasn't popular or well-liked, but he was rich and powerful. Enemies came with the territory, and he certainly didn't help matters with his acerbic manner. Could someone think that hurting me was a way to get to Damien? But that was ludicrous. Damien didn't care about me at all.

During class, I noticed Damien fidgeting. He would pull out his phone, look at it, and then shove it back in his pocket. He twisted and turned in his seat. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He glanced over at me a lot. One time I saw him raise his hand as if to reach over to me, but put it back down. Remembering his odd need to hold my hand the day before, I put down my pencil and dropped my hand between us. I held it out empty to him. He immediately snatched it and cradled it against his stomach. I didn't understand this strange tactile need of his, but I couldn't deny him the simple comfort of my hand if that was all it took, though I really couldn't write to save myself with my left hand.

At the sight of my struggles, Damien pulled my notebook to his desk and plucked my pencil from my hand. He took notes for me the rest of class, his other hand rhythmically squeezing mine against his stomach. I found myself propping my head in my hand to watch him take notes. His eyes met mine once and I was amused to see a fine blush cross his face. I couldn't help smiling, but I did straighten and face the board. Damien pressed my hand tighter to his stomach and kept taking notes. His handwriting was surprisingly neat. I wouldn't have expected it.

I know Prof. Bolkis noticed Damien taking notes for me. I wondered what he made of it. When the bell rang, Damien shoved my hand away and stood up immediately. He turned to go, but stopped. I think he wanted to bolt, but he must have remembered his self-imposed guard duty on me. He turned back and slumped.

"If you want to go, go," I said, closing my notebook.

He shook his head. "No, whoever has it out for you is still around. You're not safe on your own."

I frowned. I still couldn't accept the concept that someone hated me enough to want to hurt me. I stood and Damien turned on his heel, leading the way out. Prof. Bolkis caught my eye as we were leaving. His look was strange. It had a touch of warning and sadness in it. I didn't know what to make of it. Damien and I entered Prof. Friedman's class together. Prof. Friedman straightened and stared at us. Remembering how distressed the professor had become when Damien had attacked me, I plucked Damien's sleeve. He raised an eyebrow to me.

"Apologize to Prof. Friedman," I said.

"For what?"

"For when you dragged me out of his class. You really upset him."

Damien frowned slightly.

"Please?" I whispered.

Damien sighed. "Fine."

As I went to our lab station, Damien went to speak to Prof. Friedman at the front of the class.

"What's going on up there?" Joshua asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about," I said.

"Damn, Jenna really nailed you yesterday."

I'd forgotten about my black eye. I ducked my head. "It's nothing."

"Is that why she got expelled?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to tell them about the other incident, though I was a bit surprised they didn't know about it. I turned away to watch Damien speak to Prof. Friedman. I hoped he knew how to apologize. I remembered his quiet sorry to me, but this was different. When Damien spoke to him, I could see Prof. Friedman stiffen, but as Damien spoke, he relaxed little by little. Damien said a few more words and then held out his hand. Prof. Friedman looked at Damien's hand and after a moment, reached out and took it. They shook hands and Prof. Friedman gave Damien a polite smile.

Damien turned and came back to our station. As he passed me, he whispered, "Happy?"

Prof. Friedman looked a little shell-shocked but in a good way. I grinned. "Yeah, thanks."

Damien rolled his eyes and sat on the other stool.

Prof. Friedman lectured for this class instead of us doing a lab. I took notes while Damien looked extremely bored. I shook my head when I saw him twisting side to side on his stool.

When the bell rang, Damien sprang to his feet. I shook my head at his pent up energy. He waited impatiently for me to pack up. When I did, he took my arm and dragged me from the room. Prof. Friedman looked at us in concern. I gave him a reassuring wave of my hand. He waved back but he didn't seem sure of it.

"Damien, what's your rush?" I asked.

"Last class, stupid. Once it's over, we're free."

"Do you have plans for tonight?" I asked, thinking there must be a reason for him to be this overeager.

He slowed and turned back to me. "No, do you want to do something?"

I blinked, not expecting this turn of events. "Um, that's not why—"

"What do you want to do?" And my heart squeezed tight at the happy look on his face.

I didn't know what to say. When I went home, I had dinner with my parents and worked on homework. If I finished early, I watched television. I lived a very boring life. And it was killing me. "I, uh, don't know..." There was a game room for the students. It had arcade machines and air hockey tables. I'd never played any of the games in there. I wasn't allowed in when school was in session, and when it was break, the room was usually locked-up and everything turned off. "Do you want to go to the game room?"

Damien frowned as though this was not what he'd hoped I'd say. But other than the basketball, squash, or tennis courts, I didn't know of any other leisure activities. And I wasn't good at sports.

"Okay, want to meet there at seven?"

I nodded. "Sounds good."

We'd reached the girls' locker room. Damien could go no further. He frowned as he looked at the entrance.

Seeing his concern, I said, "I'll be fine. Don't punch anyone."

He nodded. "Wait right here after class. Don't go anywhere."

I rolled my eyes, but I nodded.

Damien headed to the boys' locker room and I entered the girls'. As I went in, a chill came over me, which was counter to the warm, humid air of the locker room. Gym did seem to be my most vulnerable class. I remembered the three girls obviously gunning for me during dodge ball. I didn't know if they'd been doing it maliciously or competitively. If Jenna hadn't spiked a ball into my face, I wouldn't have worried about those other girls' motives, but now, it seemed suspicious.

"Oh my gosh, Sarah!" Angela cried.

I blinked and recalled my black eye. "It looks worse than it feels."

Angela placed a gentle hand to my cheek to examine the bruise more closely. "I heard Jenna was expelled," she murmured.

I nodded, and kept my voice low as well. "Yeah, but it was for kicking Damien earlier today."

Angela's eyes widened. "She kicked Damien!"

I turned my head around, and yep, everyone had heard that. No point being quiet now. "Yeah, security came to class and took her away."

"This school is a joke. Damien attacked her!" Jenna's friend said.

I dropped my head. She had a point.

"And you just let it happen. Must be great being friends with Demon West," the girl said.

My brow furrowed at that. "I didn't let it happen. I pulled Damien away. He wasn't even threatening her when she decided to kick." I didn't know why I was hiding the detail that Jenna had clearly intended to kick me, but I felt like it was a detail better left hidden.

Jenna's friend clearly didn't believe me or care. She'd made up her mind. I couldn't blame her. If Jenna were my friend, I'd have taken up for her too, but as it was now, Jenna had clearly messed up and she was suffering the consequences.

Angela got between us. "And what about yesterday, Megan? Jenna gave Sarah a black eye! She didn't get so much as a slap on the wrist for it and you think it's not fair?"

Megan's eyes bored into me. "She deserved it."

My eyes widened. That was harsh and really cold. Plus, why would I have deserved it?

"Ladies, I expect you outside in five minutes!" Coach Mueller yelled.

Most of the other girls were already changed. I hadn't even started. I had to scramble to get into my gym clothes. Angela waited with me. I appreciated her company. She might be the only one in class who didn't want me dead, metaphorically speaking I hoped.

As we hurried out to join the class, I asked, "Hey, do you have plans tonight?"

She shook her head. "No, why?"

"Wanna play around in the game room?"

Her eyebrows rose. "I suppose that could be fun. What time?"

"Seven?"

"Okay, I'll be there."

I smiled in relief. "Great, see you there."

I felt immensely better about hanging out with Damien if his girlfriend was with us. I wondered if there was a way to get word to Andy and Tom. The more the merrier, I thought.

Coach had us go out and run laps around the outdoor track. Her encouragement left a bit to be desired. "Move your ass, Collins! My dead grandmother walks faster than you, Gibson! Get it together, Frank!"

But she never called out Angela or me. I wished she had because otherwise it felt like she was just coloring in the red target already on my back. We ran for most of the period. I think on average we all ran about three miles. When the coach blew her whistle and shouted for us to take a cool down lap, I almost collapsed there on the pavement. Everyone was spent. Instead of chatter and laughter, we all panted and groaned with damp shirts plastered to our backs. Even pristine Angela looked unkempt. Tendrils of hair were plastered to the sides of her face, and she had to breathe through her mouth to catch her breath.

We all shuffled into the locker room and began undressing. None of us wanted to put on our uniforms after the near hour of running. With towels tightly wrapped around us, we all trudged into the shower area. The locker room showers in Noble Academy were a few degrees better than other locker room showers. There were multiple shower heads in each stall, and they had five different spray settings. I set my bath caddy down and started the water. I chose the settings I wanted and dropped my towel. I washed up quickly, feeling vulnerable and out of place. When I went to go dress, Angela wasn't there. I could still hear several showers going and decided she must be taking longer. I got dressed and waited for her, but the last girl came out of the showers, and it wasn't Angela.

She must have gone out already then. I told myself that she had no reason to wait for me, but I felt disappointment all the same that she hadn't waited. When I exited the girls' locker room, I found Angela...and Damien.

He was leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed, and he didn't appear happy. "Angela has just invited me to game night with you and her," he said.

My eyebrows rose. "Yeah?" I wasn't sure what was bad here.

"Come on, Damien. It'll be fun," Angela said in a cajoling tone.

"You can invite Andy and Tom to join us," I said.

Damien frowned. "Make it a group, huh?"

"Yeah, a nice-sized group would make it more fun," I said.

Damien clenched his jaw and looked away. What was it now? Had he thought it would be just him and me? Why? What about Angela? I crossed my arms and looked down the hall. "If you don't want to, you don't have to join us," I said.

Angela wasn't going to be so easily dissuaded. "Damien, let's have some fun. You can't lock yourself in your suite all the time."

I'd forgotten about that. The academy had a number of suites for students. They were usually granted as signs of prestige. The student body president got one. The highest scoring student in each class got one. The MVP for the various teams got one. Of course, Damien would be automatically given one. And I wouldn't, even if I got MVP, was elected student body president, and took the number one spot in grades. I'd still have to live in the apartment building.

Damien pulled out his phone and began texting someone. I almost protested his continued ignoring of us, but he was soon done and pocketing the phone. "Andy and Tom will be there."

I gave him a quick smile. "Great, see you all later."

I turned to head home.

"Sarah, wait."

I stopped and turned back to him. Angela had stayed back, but Damien had come up to my side. "You're not going anywhere on your own, remember?"

My eyes darted back to Angela. Had he told her about Jenna's text message? Her face was blank as she watched Damien stand with me. He hadn't told her. I grimaced. Why did she put up with him?

"It's not that far," I said.

"Doesn't matter."

"What about Angela?" I said.

"What about her?"

I huffed in frustration. "Usually it's the girlfriend the guy walks home, not some random other girl."

Damien's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Angela's fine."

"Yeah, but you could try to be a better boyfriend," I muttered. I didn't want to draw this out any further. I turned and headed home. Damien walked quietly beside me. When we reached my building, I turned to say farewell, but didn't. Damien looked like he wanted to say something. I waited for him to speak.

"You invited Angela tonight because she's my girlfriend," he said. I could tell there was more to this, but I nodded my head.

"Yeah, why shouldn't she come along?"

"I thought it would be just you and me," he said.

"But Damien, wouldn't that be a little weird?"

"Weird how?"

I stared at him a moment and realized something: He didn't see me as a girl at all. Not a desirable girl at least. I did not register in the slightest as someone date-able. He didn't think anyone would say anything about him hanging out with me. Had that been partly why he insisted on sitting with me during class? I was no one special. An androgynous person. That hurt, though I called myself an idiot and a fool for being hurt, but it still nevertheless stung. I swallowed and chanted to myself to stay calm, to not get upset, and to not snap at him.

"Yeah, okay. Got it, but still, this will be fun and Angela will like it."

Damien tilted his head as he stared at me. "What's with you? Got what?"

I turned and hastily swiped my card. "Nothing, see you at seven."

"Sarah—" but the door swung shut on Damien's face. I didn't want to hear anything else he had to say.

Dinner was quiet. Mom and Dad could tell something was bothering me and delicately tried to draw it out, but I wouldn't tell them anything. I just felt so ashamed of myself for my disappointment that Damien West, the bane of my existence, didn't think I was cute. How had it come to this? He had belittled me, intimidated me, threatened me, and possibly made half the school hates me just by insisting on sitting by me. Why did it bother me that he didn't see me as anything more than a classmate? I should want that. He had a girlfriend. I'd known that since the first day of school. And plus I liked Angela.

I called myself a fool and an idiot a hundred more times.

When seven o'clock came, I went to leave. I called out a farewell to my parents and made my way to the ground floor. When I exited the building, someone called my name. I turned and found Andy and Tom waiting for me. "Let me guess, Damien sent you."

They nodded.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Hey, it's cool. I'm more worried about how this whole game night thing is gonna go," Tom said.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Damien's a little competitive," he said.

"To put it mildly," Andy added.

I sighed. This didn't sound good. "Do you mean take his ball and go home or—"

"Nuke the playing field and claim the title of champion for the rest of all time?" Tom finished.

"It's the latter," Andy said.

I blew out a long huff. "I'm really sorry then."

"Why are you sorry?" Tom asked.

"Because this was my idea and I asked him to invite you guys. I intended this to be casual fun."

Tom shook his head.

"There' nothing casual about Damien," Andy said.

"I'm beginning to get that."

When we got to the game room, it was half full with other students playing the various arcade machines and using the card tables for board games. The atmosphere was light and relaxed with ripples of laughter happening here and there. The dark spot in the levity was the silent couple standing by a pinball machine: Angela and Damien. Damien looked dour and ready to smash the machine. Angela was twisting her fingers and biting her lip. I decided to ignore whatever tension was between the two of them.

"Hey guys, what do you want to play?" I asked.

Damien gave me a glare and turned his back on us. He pulled the plunger on the pinball machine and hunched over the glass box. Angela mustered a smile and came over to me. "I don't really know. What would you like to play?"

I looked around the room. Seeing it with all the lights on and everything working made it look completely different. I saw the air hockey table was available. I turned to Andy and Tom. "Girls versus boys?"

They shrugged. "We're gonna slaughter you," Tom said.

"Fair enough," I laughed.

We went to the table and started it up. Angela looked like she'd never played air hockey either, if the way she peered at the plastic thing was any evidence.

"It's called a mallet," Andy said.

My brow furrowed. I'd handed my father mallets before. This didn't look like one at all. It looked like a little sombrero. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It just is. You use it to hit the puck and to keep it from going into your goal. Simple. Ready?"

I looked over at Angela. She shrugged. I spared a glance for Damien. He was still playing the pinball machine with his back to us. I turned back to the guys and nodded.

Tom sent the puck sliding down the table at us. He'd hit it pretty gently. I was able to track and hit it back. We sent the puck back and forth a few times like this. Angela and I got the feel of it. I hit the disk harder than usual and was able to bank it off the side and send it into the slot.

Andy's and Tom's eyes narrowed at me. "Oh, so we're ready to start playing?" Andy asked, retrieving the disk.

I tensed and knew we were about to get schooled.

Andy hit the disk toward us. It was a black streak. I barely managed to hit it, but my hit was uncontrolled, it smacked the sides back and forth. It was easy for the boys to hit it and send it streaking back. Angela lunged to stop it but missed. It shot into the slot.

The boys laughed.

"Sorry, Sarah," Angela mumbled.

I laughed. "What for? I wouldn't have been able to stop it either. They're gonna win, that's a foregone conclusion. Let's just have fun."

She smiled. "Okay."

We didn't make another point after that, but we were able to stop the puck about half the time from going into the goal. Andy and Tom were quite funny. They started naming their shots and fighting over who was going to make the next goal. Angela tried her best and her exclamations when she missed the puck were just as funny as her astonishment when she did manage to smack the disk back. It was fun, so of course it had to end.

"Tom, let me play."

Damien had come over. He stood to the side with his arms crossed. He still didn't look happy.

"Here take my spot," I said, offering my mallet.

"Oh no, you're better at this than me. Damien, take my place," Angela said.

Damien looked down the table at us. Tom put his mallet down reluctantly and took a step back. I held out mine and silently urged Damien to take it. He came down to my end of table, but instead of taking my mallet, that I still held out to him. He picked up Angela's, who had left hers on the table. He raised an eyebrow to me. I offered my mallet to Angela. She held up her hands. "No, you two play. I'll cheer."

I didn't know about this. Damien retrieved the puck and set it on the table. Tom and Andy stared back at us from their end of the table, their faces carefully blank. I wanted the light, joking atmosphere back. I stuck my tongue out the corner of my mouth and crossed my eyes.

Neither boy immediately reacted. I held the expression, determined to break their stoicism. I'd play this way if I had to.

Damien sighed. "Angela, maybe you should play instead of Sarah."

"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it," she giggled.

I was beginning to get a headache and my mouth was threatening to drool.

"Goddammit, stop it," Tom finally said, slapping his mallet on the table, his face breaking into a smile.

"I don't know what your problem is. I think it's a good look for her," Andy said.

The joke caught me by surprise. My eyes slipped back to normal, and I put my tongue back in my mouth.

Andy held his arms up in victory.

Damien took his shot and scored.

"Hey!" Tom protested.

"What? I thought we were playing?" Damien said.

Andy and Tom picked up their mallets and focused on the table. They looked like they'd really play again. Not wimp out and let Damien win. That was good. That was what I wanted.

Soon the puck was whizzing back and forth. Damien was trying to dominate our side of the table. I had to push him back to his side a number of times. But he was a better player, and while we were losing, we weren't losing as badly as when it was Angela and I playing. Angela cheered for us and hissed at the two sophomores. She was very cute about it. Damien even cracked a smile a couple of times. I had fun. Andy, Tom, and I traded light barbs back and forth which were humorous, not hurtful. The boys, probably wisely, didn't aim any of their trash talk at Damien, though he did say a few things to them.

I was surprised when I heard the clock strike ten o'clock. I looked at my watch in surprise. "I gotta go. I still have homework to do."

"Ah, spoilsport," Tom said.

"Come on, one more game," Andy said.

I pushed my mallet into Angela's hands. "Hey, you all don't have to go anywhere. It's been fun."

I didn't linger further. I slipped from the game room and headed home.

"Jeez, you have crap short term memory," Damien said, catching up with me.

I jumped, startled by him. "What?" I said, my heart pounding in surprise.

He took hold of my elbow and started walking with me. "You're not supposed to go anywhere by yourself, remember?"

I grimaced. "No, I remember. I just think you're being paranoid. I'll be fine."

Damien didn't reply. He just kept hold of my elbow.

I sighed. "You could've sent Andy or Tom to walk me."

"You like them, huh?"

"They've grown on me, though that was still a psychotic trick to play on me."

"Psychotic?"

I nervously glanced at him. Was that a bad word to use around him?

"It wasn't a nice prank."

"Pranks aren't supposed to be nice."

"Fine, pranks usually aren't, but they're not supposed to mentally scar someone either. That's generally agreed as going too far."

"Heh."

I decided I didn't like Damien holding onto me. I pulled my arm away from him.

"What now?" he demanded.

I crossed my arms and kept walking. We were almost to the apartment building.

"Sarah, wait." He stopped me with a hand to my shoulder. I turned toward him but moved away to get his hand off me.

"You should've sent Andy or Tom," I repeated.

"Why? What's wrong with me?" he demanded.

"I don't know, maybe the fact you have a girlfriend, and you just left her to walk another girl home."

"Angela isn't in trouble."

"So? She's still your girlfriend."

Damien frowned. "That really means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"It should mean a lot to you, too, doofus," I muttered.

"What did you call me?"

"Doofus. Doofus. Doofus."

Would he just leave already? I was home safe. He could go now.

Damien's face twisted in frustration. "Gah! And everyone says I'm difficult."

"That's because you are," I said placidly.

He glared at me and pointed a finger at my face. "What's going on? And don't say nothing. And don't bring up Angela."

I stared back at him. What did he want? "Nothing's going on."

"Yes, something is. You were acting weird earlier, too."

He meant when I realized that I wasn't a girl to him, just an androgynous person. I looked away and shrugged. "I was distracted. That's all."

"Stop lying. I hate liars more than anything."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are!"

I raised my eyebrows at him. I wasn't going to fold and tell him anything. No matter how much he yelled at me.

He screamed through clenched teeth and began to pace with his hands on his hips. I looked longingly at the door to the apartment building.

"Everything was fine during classes. Nice even. Then you got weird when I walked you back here. Things seemed fine when we were playing air hockey. But again you're acting weird when I walk you home. If you don't want me to see your home, that's fine. I won't force my way in, but I don't care that your parents are servants. I don't care that you don't have any money. I feel comfortable with you. I thought you felt the same."

Well, he certainly had grabbed the emotional ball and ran with it, too bad he reached the wrong goal post. And who had the crap short term memory? Carefully, I pointed out, "We've known each other for four days. The first time I met you: you threw a desk and were rude to me. Quickly after that, you had my father arrested.—"

"Are you still upset about that?" Damien interjected.

"YES. You never even apologized."

"He hit me with a mop!"

"You were threatening me with a knife!"

"I wasn't threatening you."

"What the hell do you call cutting off one of my buttons then? Flirtation?"

Damien looked away from me. I continued with the litany of wrongs. "You had Andy and Tom threaten me. And they were very convincing, you know that. Jesus, if you saw my breakdown in Dean Crowe's office, how can you think we're suddenly best friends?! The only reason we're getting along at all is because I've been trying my best to get along with you."

"I didn't know I was such a chore."

"Have you met yourself?" I exclaimed.

Maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe Damien deserved a break. I didn't know why he deserved one, but maybe he did. Dean Crowe had said Damien's reaction to me was better than most. That I should do my best to work with him, to bring him into normal society. I resented being given this job, but I'd been basically conscripted. I rubbed my eyes. My head was beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, you're not," he spat. He had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

"No, I'm not, but being mean to you isn't going to do any good. Let's just call it a day? I need to go home and you need to go wherever you go. I'll see you tomorrow in class."

He nodded, but he didn't look at me. He began walking away. He was clearly still upset. Dammit. I was upset, but it wasn't really his fault. He didn't think I was cute. He didn't think of me as a girl. No matter what, I was no threat to his relationship with Angela. These weren't bad things. In fact, they were probably good. It was just my vanity that was hurt. "Damien," I called.

He stopped, but he didn't turn back.

"Sometimes, you're not the difficult one," I said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means sometimes other people are in bad moods."

And like the coward I was, I slipped into the apartment building.

I heard him call my name, but I pulled the door shut and let our day end.

Friday, Day 5

Friday was finally here! I was relieved to see the weekend on the horizon. It meant two days free of Damien and all of his strange neediness and unpredictable moods. I'd get to be my own person again! The entire school seemed to be in a better mood with the end of the week. The halls were livelier. Everyone quicker to smile. When I entered Prof. Edward's class, I noted Damien wasn't there yet. Maybe he was starting his weekend early? I didn't have a problem with that. I sat down at my desk and pulled out my notebook and pen. I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. It was going to be a good day!

I had realized something this morning as I got ready for school: Damien West could not be the center of my world. He could not dominate every moment of my life. I'd unwittingly let him this last week and had twisted myself into knots when I realized I wasn't that important to him. Sure, he might need me, but I wasn't special to him, plus he had other people in his life like Angela, Andy, and Tom to name a few. I needed to expand my social circle. Joshua and Hank had invited me to their basketball game, and I intended to go. I didn't know much about the sport, but I needed to get out from Damien's shadow. I was sure he would be leaving for the weekend like most of the richest students. It was common for them to go home or rather to one of their homes for the weekend. It would be the perfect time to make new friends.

When Damien came into the room, I noted with a frown the dark circles around his eyes and his slumped posture. He didn't look well. He collapsed into his seat and held out his hand to me. I stared at the hand hanging in the air, feeling my own hands grow sweaty. If he was reaching for me first thing, he was obviously struggling with something. I looked around the room surreptitiously. Without class in session, it would be easy for someone to see Damien holding my hand and who knew what they would think. I kept my hands in my own lap.

"What's wrong?" I asked instead, pitching my voice low.

He sighed tiredly and pulled his hand back. "Nothing."

That clearly wasn't true.

"Did you go back to the game room last night?" I asked, trying to figure out the cause for his ill state.

"No. Why would I?"

It was my turn to sigh. I wasn't going to bring up Angela.

Prof. Edward came in and greeted the class. He hastily took attendance and then launched into his lecture. I took notes, but in the back of my mind, I wondered about what could be wrong with Damien. I was doing it again. Worrying about him over myself, but I couldn't stop it. I noticed he hadn't pulled out his cell phone. He was staring into space as Prof. Edward talked. I may have only known him for five days, but I could tell that this wasn't typical behavior for him.

With everyone's attention safely pointed away from us, I dropped my hand between our chairs and held it palm out. It only took him a second to notice. He pulled my hand to his lap, but he didn't knead and squeeze it like before. Instead he laced our fingers together and held my hand between his. I had to close my eyes and tell my overactive heart to stop being stupid. This wasn't romantic. It was therapeutic. I was like a nurse, offering solace to a sick person. I didn't know what illness Damien had, but I think everyone would agree he wasn't well.

Eventually, mundane concerns became apparent. I needed to use the restroom. I tried to pull back my hand to rise from my chair. Damien's hands closed like a vice over mine.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back." I reminded myself to be patient. He was already in a crappy mood. I didn't want to make it worse.

"Promise?"

That caught me off guard. Before he'd used blackmail or threats to make sure I did what he wanted. Never trusting me.

"Yeah, of course."

He nodded, but his head movements were a little jerky. He let my hand go.

"Hey, when class is over, you want to talk to me?" I asked, feeling like there had to be something wrong and he needed to talk about it.

"Just go."

I rose and slipped out of class. The restrooms were on the far end of the hall. I walked quickly. I would keep my promise. I really hoped Damien would open up to me about whatever was currently bothering him. He looked exhausted. Had he stayed up all night? Why? I didn't know, and I was worried that it wasn't something mundane like staying up all night to play video games or watch TV.

After I was done in the restroom, I was on my way back to class when from behind someone grabbed me. A hand covered my mouth and a sharp burning pain flared in my back. I arched, trying to get away from the pain, but it radiated out with sharp tendrils that suffused my being. I cried out, but it was completely muffled. I tried to struggle, or rather, I wanted to struggle, and I knew I should struggle, but everything seemed detached. I was floating in a pool of pain. My movements were hampered by the pain. I no longer knew how to twist or turn. I raised my hands to try to drag the one covering my mouth away, but I couldn't dislodge it.

My eyelids began to feel heavy. I knew it was dangerous to pass out, but my body felt so heavy, and I wanted to get away from the pain. There was a new burning, ripping pain in my back. I made a sound again, but the hand still muffled me. Darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision.

I was lowered to the ground and put on my back. I stared up at the man who had grabbed me. My vision was blurry, but even so, I was certain that I didn't know him. It was hard to see his face from under the baseball hat, but I'd never seen him before. He was in a security uniform, but he wasn't staff. He crouched over me and raised the knife. I stared at it. It was coated in blood. Distantly the thought, "That's my blood," occurred to me.

"AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE!"

The scream I'd wanted to make sounded down the hall. The unknown man jerked up straight. Doors crashed open. He jumped to his feet. He looked down at me and for a second, our eyes met again. He was in a panic. I thought that was strange because I felt perfectly calm. He turned and ran down the hall. I didn't try to rise to watch him. I stayed still, staring up at the ceiling now. I felt cold.

I listened to the clack of multiple pairs of shoes approaching me, but my eyelids had grown far too heavy. I let them slide shut with a sigh. It was okay. I was sure a teacher would help me now. I realized as I slid unconscious that I'd broken my promise to Damien. He'd probably never trust me again.

Saturday, Day 6

I didn't want to wake up, but something wasn't right. There was a strange beeping, an unfamiliar bed, and the smell of disinfectant. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't like it. Then I remembered.

My eyes snapped open and I immediately regretted it. The light stung my eyes. I looked around but I couldn't really make out much. My brain felt woolly, and my vision was blurry. I was safe though. I could make that out. I was no longer lying in a school corridor with a murderer crouching over me.

Bits and pieces of what had happened after came back to me like fragments of a dream, but I realized all of the strange snapshots were actual memories. I remembered watching fluorescent lights go by over me as I was wheeled on a gurney. Nurses and doctors leaned over to look at me, but talked over me, not to me. I tried to speak to them, to make them notice me, but something was covering my mouth. I tried to lift it off, but a nurse stopped me, saying I had to keep the mask on. I didn't understand her and tried to tell her that I wasn't wearing a mask. That this was really my face. Only "No," came out. The nurse assured me that I would be okay.

Nothing else was very clear after that. I remembered things. Sensations. No clear images. Stuff happened. Stuff was done to me. That much was certain. It was frightening. Even trying to remember it sent a chill through me and my mind shied away.

My eyes adjusted enough for me to recognize where I was. I was propped up on a hospital bed in the school's clinic. I was hooked up to an IV and there was a monitor attached to my right index finger. A tube blew oxygen into my nose. My back throbbed and everything ached. Mom was by the bed, slumped over with her cheek again my hand. I didn't have much strength, but I twitched my hand to rouse her.

She lifted her head and saw my eyes were open. "Sarah, you're okay, honey. You're safe," she said. Her eyes were red and swollen. I shook my head and reached out to her.

"Don't cry," I slurred.

She swiped at her cheeks and gave me a shaky smile. "I won't anymore. Promise. How do you feel?"

I frowned. "Like I'm floating but there's a hook in my back, keeping me tethered. I don't like it."

She reached out and stroked my forehead. "I'm sorry, honey. It'll get better as the effect of the anesthesia wears off."

I sighed and let my eyes slide shut, sinking into the bed. "What happened?" I asked.

Her hand froze on my forehead. "Don't you remember?"

I grimaced. My throbbing back made the memory easy to recall. I forced my eyes open. "Someone stabbed me?"

She nodded. "Yes, do you remember anything else?"

I wanted to close my eyes and sink back into sleep, but I made myself stay awake. "I didn't recognize him. He had on a security uniform."

Mom nodded again, but a bit jerkily. "That's what we thought. They're searching for him now. But you're safe. Capt. Timmons is personally seeing to that."

I sighed. Something was nagging at me, but I couldn't tease it out of my woolly brain. I just wanted to sleep.

"Rest, honey. I'll stay with you. Don't worry."

Knowing Mom was there did make my mind rest easier. I shut my eyes and let myself pass out again.

I swam back up to consciousness unwillingly, but something was disturbing me. It took a moment for my brain to sort it out. Mom had hold of my hand. She was squeezing and kneading it. It was very distracting. I opened my eyes to ask her to stop, but I quickly saw it wasn't her. For a moment, my eyes couldn't decipher who it was with me. I gasped and readied to scream. But my sudden intake of air alerted the person I was awake. He dropped my hand guiltily. I squinted and my brain finally identified the person as Damien. I scanned the room and saw Mom was curled up in a chair asleep with a blanket draped over her.

I swallowed and realized my throat was dry. My eyes went to the side table. A pitcher of water and a cup rested there. Damien followed my gaze and reached for the items. He picked them up, and with shaky hands, poured water into the cup. He held the cup out to me wordlessly. I lifted a hand halfway, but it flopped back to my lap. Damien bent closer and put the cup to my mouth. It had an inbuilt straw. I took it between my lips and sipped the water. I turned my head away when I was done. He withdrew the cup and straightened. His silence was beginning to feel eerie. I looked at him and waited for him to speak, but he remained silent, holding the cup between his hands and not moving.

"What time is it?" I finally asked.

Damien turned his wrist to glance at his gold watch. "A quarter after two in the morning."

I grimaced. "I missed the game."

"What game?"

"The JV game. I told Joshua and Hank that I'd go."

Damien frowned, but he didn't say anything. He set the cup down. I turned my hand up and silently offered it to him again. He reached out and ran a finger down it. It made my fingers twitch.

"Shouldn't you be home?" I whispered.

Damien continued to stroke my palm, tracing the lines. It tickled and made my hand muscles spasm uncontrollably.

"Why would I go home?" he asked.

"Because it's the weekend. Don't you want to get out of here?"

He continued stroking my palm with the tip of his finger. For such a gentle touch, it was torture keeping my hand still, to not close it into a fist.

"I hadn't planned to go home."

"All the richie riches go home on the weekend," I said.

He shrugged. "Well, not me."

"Did they find him?" I asked.

Damien's hand froze. He withdrew it and stuck it in his pocket. My hand suddenly felt very cold and lifeless. I closed it and turned it toward me.

"They haven't."

My heart sank. "Oh."

"But we will."

I noted the way he said "we." "Let security deal with it."

"You think I'm going to let whoever did this get away with it?"

"Capt. Timmons will sort it out."

"Wake up, Sarah. This was a hit, meaning someone hired him, meaning someone with money. How much trouble is security going to go to protect the daughter of servants and possibly incriminate someone rich and powerful?"

My eyes went to Mom still curled up asleep in her chair. Was she in danger? What about Dad?

Damien turned to glance at my mother as well. "I'll protect you and your family. I promise."

I blinked. Something pinging in my memory. "I broke my promise," I said.

Damien straightened, confusion crossing his face. "What promise?" he asked suspiciously.

"My promise to come straight back to class. It was the first time you asked me to promise something instead of threatening or blackmailing me. I was really happy you did that and then I broke my promise. I'm sorry."

Damien's eyes dropped. "You had a good excuse."

Yeah, I knew I did, but I wondered how much this had affected him. He still had dark rings around his eyes. And he still looked pale. "You should go get some sleep," I told him.

His eyes traveled over me. My heart fluttered under his gaze. "You rest, too. Need you to get better quickly."

I snorted lightly. "Sir, yes, sir."

His eyes met mine. "I mean it, Sarah. I need you."

I blinked. Surely, he'd left off a word or two in that last sentence? He needed me to get better. He needed me to be a buffer during class. He needed me to poke at and tease. But he didn't say anything further. He reached out and delicately stroked a finger down my arm to my hand, causing goose bumps. I shivered and stared at him.

He stared at me a moment then turned and left the room. I almost called him back. I wanted him to say he needed me again.

"You need to be careful with Damien West."

I gasped and looked over at Mom. She uncurled from the chair and stood up to stretch.

"How long were you awake?" I stuttered.

"Long enough." She came over and twitched the sheets, smoothing them out. There was a frown on her face.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Go to sleep, honey. You need your rest, too."

I didn't protest, but I had so many half-formed questions. My hand tingled and I squeezed it tightly. Mom was right. I did need to be more careful around Damien West. But I had the urge to be reckless.

Sunday, Day 7

On Sunday morning, Dr. Chang said I could return home, which I was relieved to hear. While the school clinic was on par with any hospital, it was still the school clinic. I had to wear my left arm in a sling to prevent me from pulling the stitches in my back, and I had to use a wheelchair for the next week or more and to rest as much as possible. Dr. Chang told my parents to contact him if I developed a fever and entrusted my pain medicine to them.

If I couldn't walk, I didn't know how they expected me to get back to the apartment with the elevator out of order, but I got my answer when they wheeled me in and pressed the shiny new call button. The out of order sign was gone, and the elevator doors gleamed.

"How do you like our new elevator?" Dad asked with a smile.

"It's great. Perfect timing," I said in amazement.

Dad nodded in agreement. "A company showed up early Saturday and began work. Dean Crowe said it was long overdue. I agree, but Red and I knew nothing about it. They worked all through the night too. They said they'd been commissioned to fix it and weren't allowed to leave until the job was done. Must've cost a fortune."

I nodded, but I was suspicious of the source. I greatly doubted Dean Crowe had suddenly decided to do this. But someone else with power and wealth was very compulsive, and I'd mentioned it to him.

When we got home, Mom helped me onto the sofa and waited on me hand and foot. I asked her about work. She said Gustav had insisted she take time off to look after me and he promised to send up some of my favorite sweets. They put the TV on a cartoon channel for me, but I dozed through them. Mom bustled around, cleaning and making paths for the wheelchair. Dad slipped out to take care of a few things small jobs around the school.

I roused when there was a knock at the door. Mom went to answer it. She checked the peephole before she opened it. That was unusual for us. With a secure entrance, no one but residents and their guests should be able to get in, but with the recent attack, I think everyone would be checking their peepholes for a while.

Mom opened the door for Sally Watkins, our neighbor. She worked in the administration office. She held out a package. "This came for Sarah," she said.

"Really?" Mom asked in surprise, glancing back at me.

I shook my head to indicate that I didn't know what it was.

"A delivery man brought it. Security screened it. It's safe."

"But where is it from?" Mother asked.

"Looks like a cell phone company. You didn't order a cell phone for Sarah?"

Mom frowned. "No, we didn't."

Sally shrugged. "Well, it's clearly labeled for her."

I began to suspect who had sent me the phone. "Is it okay for me to take it?" I asked.

Mom's frown deepened. She took the package and stared down at it. "Thank you for bringing it all the way out here to us, Sally."

She shrugged off the gratitude. "No problem. It's nice to get out of the office. See you."

Mom said good bye and shut the door. She turned back to me. "Did you ask Damien West to buy this for you?"

I shook my head. "No, I swear."

She sighed and took the package into the kitchen. I craned my neck to see what she was doing. I heard the sound of tape being cut and soft rustling. She came back and handed me a shiny package with pictures of a smart phone. It was top of the line. "We're not paying for a cell phone plan," she said emphatically.

I nodded hastily and opened the box to take out the shiny new phone. I set the charging cord aside and turned the phone over in my hands. It felt so slick. I dropped it when it started buzzing. Luckily it only dropped into my lap.

"I wonder how long he's been trying to reach you," Mom asked dryly.

I uncertainly hit the home button and swiped my finger across the touch screen. Mom leaned over the couch's arm, watching. I turned down the display and looked at her expectantly, wanting a little privacy.

She gave me a look and went back to the kitchen. "Remember what I said," she called as she left me.

Sighing in relief, I tapped the screen to pull up the text message.

*Let me know when you get this.-Noah.*

I blinked and stared at the text message in disbelief. Noah Nash? I suddenly realized this was one of his company's phones. I didn't know why he would send me a phone. I'd been sure it was from Damien. I pulled up the on-screen keyboard and carefully typed, *Why did you send me a phone?*

I sent the text and started watching cartoons again, assuming I'd be waiting a while for a reply, but I'd barely put the phone in my lap when it buzzed again. *Heard about what happened. Wanted to make sure you were okay.*

I frowned in confusion. I was sure the whole school had heard about the attack, but why Noah would be especially concerned didn't make sense.

*I'll be okay. My mother's taking care of me. What did you hear?*

There had to be more to this than simple concern. I was sure of it. Had the story gotten exaggerated? I didn't know how much worse they could make it. I was stabbed by an unknown assailant. The only way to make it worse was to say I died, and Noah wouldn't be sending me a phone if that were the rumor.

*You were stabbed, and Damien went ballistic. The school was on lockdown all day Friday. Classes were canceled, but we had to stay our classrooms while armed guards went up and down the halls with rifles. We couldn't go anywhere without a pair of armed guards. Not even to the bathroom.*

I bet the school had been on high alert. Something like this had never happened before. Sure, they were prepared for the possibility, but nothing was supposed to happen. I suddenly remembered that my family had come back home without a single guard escorting us. So much for our safety.

I reread Noah's second sentence and became uneasy. *What did Damien do?*

The longer it took him to reply, the more uneasy I got. His responses had been quick before. Either he was having to type out something long and complicated or he was choosing his words very carefully. When the phone buzzed again, I steeled myself for which it would be.

*He started screaming your name and hitting people to get to you. Several teachers had to hold him back. He was full blown psychotic. I think they had to tranq him to calm him down.*

I stared at the message and felt sick. I turned the phone face down and stared at the ceiling. The image of what Noah described was so clear that my heart ached thinking of Damien freaking out like that. The phone buzzed again. I picked it up and realized that I needed to wipe my eyes. I hastily did so; afraid that Mom would notice I was crying and take the phone away. I looked at the message.

*Hey, don't get upset. It's over now. You're going to be okay and Damien has calmed down.*

That was true, and I was glad Noah had told me what had happened and hadn't sugar-coated it. I carefully typed, *Thanks for letting me know. Is the school still under lockdown?*

*Semi-lockdown. A lot of students were pulled home by their parents. They've canceled classes for Monday.*

My eyes widened slightly at that, but it made sense really. They were probably concerned for the safety of the rest of the students and needed to make sure everything was secure for their return. *Did you go home?*

*Oh yeah, my mom freaked when she heard. She even pulled my little sister home from Ashburne.* Ashburne was a private elementary and middle school, commonly considered a feeder school for Noble. Most of my classmates had graduated from it. I, of course, hadn't gone there. I'd gone to public school. My grandma Cora had driven me back and forth, since no school buses came out far enough to pick me up, but she'd fallen and broken her hip. She'd needed hip replacement surgery and had to move into an assisted living facility. She couldn't drive for several months. That had sealed the deal that I'd attend Noble. There was no other school I could get to.

The phone buzzed again. *Do you know who stabbed you?*

I got the feeling this was why Noah had gone to all the trouble of sending me a phone. He wanted dirt. But unfortunately, I couldn't give him any. *No, I didn't recognize him. He wasn't a student. He had on a security uniform.*

The house phone rang. Mother picked it up in the kitchen.

*But you saw his face?*

I stared at the question. I wasn't sure who the guy had been. Damien seemed sure he'd been hired to attack me. Remembering Jenna's attacks, and knowing someone had been telling her to do them, led me to fear that this guy hadn't attacked me randomly either. Someone had told him to. Someone rich and powerful. Noah was the second richest and most powerful boy in school. I didn't know why he would target me. But then again, I didn't know why he would send me a cell phone either.

*Yeah, sort of, but he stabbed me from behind. Didn't the cameras get him?*

Mom came into the living room with the house phone to her ear. "Damien, if she doesn't want to talk to you, then I'm sorry—" She stopped and stared at the cell phone in my hands that I was clearly using.

"Who are you talking to?" she demanded, realizing I wasn't texting Damien West like she'd thought.

"Noah Nash."

"Noah Nash? Why in the world—" she began, but stopped to jerk the phone from her ear.

Even from the sofa, I could hear Damien's shout. "Why is she talking to that dick-head?"

"Young man, I suggest you calm down and clean up your language," Mom said sternly into the phone.

My eyes widened at her scolding Damien.

Damien must have said something to placate her. She nodded and turned to me. "Would you like to talk to Damien?" she asked. I wordlessly held out my hand. She passed me the phone with a stern look. She was going to have questions, and she would expect answers. I held my breath until she was back in the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the house phone.

"Hey," I said.

"You're talking to Noah Nash?" Damien exploded.

"He sent me a cell phone and started texting me."

"And you texted him back? Throw away the phone!"

Feeling a little devilish, I said, "But it's a nice phone. It would be a shame to just toss it."

"I'll send you a better one. Throw his away."

I rolled my eyes. "Or you could just give me your number, and I could text you."

"But then he could still text you! No, this is unacceptable."

Remembering my recent suspicions, I turned the cell phone over in my hands. Noah had the number before it even reached me. He could've programmed all sorts of things into it. He could track me wherever I went. There was a camera at the top. I peered at the lens suspiciously. *Hey, don't get upset.* That had been a little too well-timed. I covered the lens with my thumb. "I'll throw it out, but don't send me another. I don't need it."

This seemed to mollify him. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

I sighed and glanced at the television. It was showing a commercial for a kid's cereal. "Like an invalid and it isn't fun. I'm on bed rest for the next several days. Doctor's orders."

"You need to take care of yourself," he muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "I know, but being stuck on the couch sucks."

When he didn't answer, I asked, "Is there any news on my assailant?"

"He got away from the Academy. But we got a clear shot of him on an exterior camera. We're running his face through Interpol's database."

"Interpol? Really?"

"He didn't come up in the FBI's database, but he has to be a professional. Someone has to know who he is."

"Wow," I said, impressed with how hard they were pursuing this. But he had breached Noble Academy and attacked a student, even if it was the most insignificant student. Capt. Timmons would want to catch him as a matter of pride.

"Don't worry. We'll get him." There was that "we" again.

"Damien, let security do their job. You don't need to worry about it."

"Are you serious? You were stabbed. He clearly meant to kill you."

And having it so baldly stated made me drop the phone. I'd been shying away from thinking about it like that. 'I was attacked.' 'He hurt me.' I didn't want to think about what could've happened to me if that student hadn't come out into the hall. But Damien was right. Someone tried to kill me. I kept pretending otherwise, but I could've died. My body went cold and I began to shiver.

From the phone's tiny speaker, I could hear Damien calling my name. Roughly, I picked up the phone. "Damien, I'm really tired. I'm going to take a nap. Thanks for calling."

"Sarah, wait. I'm sorry. Don't hang—"

I turned off the phone. "Mom, could you take the phones," I called.

She came into the living room and after one look at my face, rushed to my side. "Honey, are you feeling okay? You're so pale. Is it your back?"

"Just take these." I held out the phones. "I want to take a nap."

She nodded and took the items. I heard the house phone ring again and the cell phone buzz, but I pulled the afghan tight over my shoulders and turned to face the cushions. I didn't want to deal with the world for a bit.

"Sarah, it's time for a pill." That was Dad. I opened my eyes groggily. He held out a pain pill and a glass of water. I took both. I swallowed the pill with a sip of water.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's about 1 o'clock. Do you want to eat something?"

Mom had fixed me oatmeal for breakfast, but I'd only eaten a couple of bites. More to make her happy than any real desire to eat. Now I was beginning to feel a little light headed. I nodded.

He smiled. "Okay, I'll bring something on a tray."

"Where's Mom?" I asked.

"She went grocery shopping."

I jerked upright. "NO! It's dangerous!" My back screamed at me for moving so suddenly, but the thought of Mom in danger had my heart pounding.

Dad eased me back onto the sofa. "She'll be fine. Capt. Timmons sent two guards with her."

I let myself lean back on pillows. "Oh, good then."

"Yeah, don't worry. We are security's new best friends. I'll go make you some soup."

"Chicken noodle?" I asked.

"If that's what you want."

"With little oyster crackers?" I added hopefully.

He smiled. "I think I can manage that."

He disappeared into the kitchen. I picked up the remote and turned on the television. I scrolled through the channels and stopped in alarm on one of the news ones. A picture of Noble was displayed on the screen.

"Still no new clues about who attacked an unnamed student at the acclaimed Noble Academy on Friday. Anonymous sources say that the assailant was a professional assassin sent to kill a student. He attacked the student in the very halls of this ultra-secure school. No one is sure if he attacked the correct student, but the school was immediately locked down when the attack was discovered. Many regard Noble Academy as the premiere prep school in the nation. The richest and most powerful families entrust their children to this august academy every year. Their motto, "Your future is assured at Noble Academy," rings false with many after news of this incident. Dean Harold Crowe assured us that all safety measures were being reviewed. Some of the heirs to the largest commercial empires currently attend Noble Academy, including Noah Nash of Nash Enterprises and Damien West of West Incorporated. Spokesmen for both companies said that these princes of empire were safe and their hearts went out to the student that was attacked. Here with more is Julia Fairfax."

The screen switched to an attractive woman in her thirties. She had on a light blue suit and had her hair up. She stood in front of the main gates to Noble Academy. Armed security guards were visible behind her. "I have to say, Ron that Noble Academy has to be pretty nervous right now. One of their biggest selling points is the security of the school. Children of presidents and royalty have gone here. Nothing like this has reportedly ever happened. A lot of parents are going to ask how it happened now. Sources have told me that the student who was attacked is not one of the higher profile students. She, and multiple sources confirm that the student is female, is not a typical high-profile student. Why this student was attacked is a mystery. Some are questioning if she was even the intended target."

"So they think that maybe another student was the intended victim?"

"No one knows since the assassin has not been captured. Clues are few and far between. The attacked student is reportedly home and recuperating, but many of the students have left, brought home by nervous parents. And many wonder if the students will return."

"So they could possibly withdraw?"

"Yes, that seems likely. If the parents can't be reassured, they will likely enroll in other schools."

A chill went over me at their discussion. If parents started pulling their kids, Noble would suffer. Maybe not immediately, but it relied on the continued enrollment of wealthy families. If this attack cost the school, what would that mean for my family? Would we be blamed?

"Shut that off, Sarah. It won't do you any good," Dad said, carrying in a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of milk on it.

I turned off the television and looked bleakly up at him. He placed the tray in my lap. "I know I'm nowhere near as good as your mother when it comes to cooking, but I think I did all right."

He straightened and noticed my unhappiness. He reached up and stroked my head. "Everything's going to be all right," he assured me.

I didn't touch my food.

"Sarah, come on. News channels always make it worse than it really is so people will watch them."

"But if parents start withdrawing their kids—"

"Not our problem," he said.

"But if Dean Crowe thinks it is..."

He shook his head. "Dean Crowe isn't concerned about that. He told me that they are fully committed to finding out who attacked you and to let him know if we need anything for your recovery. The academy will take care of all of it."

I wasn't reassured, but offered a weak smile to him. I sprinkled some oyster crackers into my soup and dipped in my spoon. I wasn't hungry anymore, but I didn't want to waste all of his effort. "Thanks, Dad," I said.

He nodded and sat down in his recliner. "Mind if I watch the game?" he asked. It was his usual Sunday activity. I shrugged and kept eating. He put on a football game and relaxed. I didn't pay it any attention. Mom came home an hour later, laden with grocery bags. I'd been dozing again. Mom and Dad disappeared into the kitchen together. They kept their voices too low for me to listen in, but I was sure they were talking about me. I shifted on the sofa uncomfortably. I wanted a change of scene. I put my feet on the floor. I hadn't even tried to stand yet, but I could feel my back already protesting. I sighed. I had to have help to get into the wheelchair, unless I wanted to be a complete idiot.

"Dad!" I called.

He came back into the living room quickly. "What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

I shook my head and indicated the wheelchair. "Can you help me in?"

"Where do you want to go, kiddo?" he asked, moving the chair over by the sofa. He helped me rise, taking most of my weight. It hurt, but the pain was brief as I settled into the chair. "Just to my room, I'd like to use my computer."

"All righty, let's go. Vroom, vroom."

Even though I rolled my eyes, I couldn't help smiling at my father's antics. He pushed me from the living room, down the short hallway, and into my room. He parked me at my desk and stepped back, giving the setup a critical look. "Here, let me turn it on. Can you reach everything?"

I put my hand on my mouse and touched the keyboard. "Yeah, I think I'm good, thanks."

"Call us if you need anything."

I nodded and he backed out of the room. I clicked open the browser and logged into Noble Academy's Social Network. It wasn't sponsored by the school, but it was allowed to exist with the tacit understanding that if problems arose from it, it would be shut down with prejudice. It was commonly believed that Noah Nash currently ran the website. I didn't know if that were true, but it wouldn't surprise me. Every student was automatically given a profile on the site, using their ID photo to identify them if another wasn't supplied. I had peeked at it when I'd gotten the welcome email two days before classes started, but I hadn't done anything with it. My profile was pretty bare bones. But I had messages. I scrolled through them. A number were from students I didn't recognize, wishing me a speedy recovery. I saw ones from Joshua and Hank expressing the same. If they'd canceled classes Friday, I doubted they'd had their basketball game as scheduled Friday night. I opened Joshua's profile to see if he said anything about it. There was a note from him bemoaning the game's rescheduling. It was now on the next Friday. Curious, I searched for Damian's profile. His was emptier than mine. There were no messages at all on it.

A direct message bubble popped up. I looked at it in surprise, and saw it was from Angela.

*Hey, how are you feeling?*

*I'm doing all right, considering. How are you?*

*Bored out of my mind. My parents made me come home.*

*Sorry. I heard they'd canceled classes for Monday.*

*Yeah, I wish they hadn't. I don't want to stay here another day.*

The reason I'd logged onto NASN was to look up Jenna Hannigan. I entered the name in the search bar. Her profile came up. Over her picture, "EXPELLED" in red letters was written. I scrolled through her public messages. There were innocent messages from Megan posted before the incident, asking about homework and class schedules. There was a lone note from Jenna that leaped out at me. *There are nice people at this school, but some really scary people as well.* There was a reply from Megan. *Did you have another run-in with the Demon?* Jenna's reply was *No, he hasn't bothered me again.* Was she talking about whoever had coerced her to attack me?

*Whatcha doing?*

I looked at Angela's message and wondered what I should tell her. I didn't want to mention Noah's gift or Damien's call.

But maybe she'd know something about Jenna. I asked her, *Have you heard anything about Jenna? Do you know what happened to her?*

The most recent messages on Jenna's profile were days old. I recognized some of the names from the unknown students that had wished me well. They expressed sympathy for Jenna. I disregarded them as vapid social commenters. They had to add their name to everything. A message from Joshua caught my eye. *Hey, call me if you want.* I wondered what that was about.

*I heard Jenna's parents checked her into a facility. She had some sort of breakdown.*

I was startled by Angela's news. *Is she going to be okay?* I felt vaguely responsible. I knew it wasn't my fault, but I'd been unknowingly connected to whatever mess Jenna had gotten into.

*Yeah, I guess. She's out of Noble now. That's probably the best thing for her.*

Angela's comment seemed pretty cold. Getting kicked out of school, any school, wasn't good. I wondered if this was just an example of general Noble callousness. It was a phenomenon I'd noted growing up at the school. Noble Academy students were told they were the best over and over. Simply wearing the uniform meant they were better than legions of other students around the world. If you weren't wearing the uniform, you didn't matter. Now that Jenna was expelled, she didn't matter to most students except to her closest friends. No one would send her new messages. Her profile would be purged eventually and she'd be gone completely.

I wondered if anyone would've really noted my attack if I hadn't been enrolled at Noble. If I'd been just home and wandering around in my normal clothes, would I have well wishes for my safety from students I didn't know? Then again, if I hadn't been wearing the uniform, I probably wouldn't have been attacked. No one would've cared enough about me to bother.

*You're online but not answering my texts?* The new chat box popped up on my screen and startled me. If Noah did control the website, then he'd know when I was online, even if I chose the option to appear offline.

*I can't keep your cell phone.* I sent back.

*Why not? It's a good cell phone.*

I couldn't tell him the truth that I suspected he'd use it to track me or listen on phone calls or read my text messages. *Because it doesn't feel right. Thank you though. Would you rather I give it back to you or mail it?*

*Hey, have you heard from Damien?* Angela's message popped up right as I was typing my reply to Noah. Typing one handed was really difficult and I didn't relish the opportunity of messaging two separate people at once.

*He called earlier to tell me how the hunt is going.* I contemplated asking her if he'd spoken to her, but I feared that the answer would be no.

*I'd rather you kept the cell phone to talk to me.* Noah's message popped up and I frowned at it.

*That's really nice of you, but like I said, it doesn't feel right. If I get another cell phone, I'll give you my number.* I felt a little scummy offering that false promise, since I knew I wouldn't be getting a new phone anytime soon, but I didn't know how to put him off any better.

*How did Damien sound?*

I sighed at Angela's message. I was getting frustrated with all the typing and my good arm was getting tired.

*He sounded all right. I just hope he's not irritating security too much.*

*You need a way to reach out to others, especially if Damien does something crazy.*

I sighed and considered just shutting down my web browser and switching to Solitaire or maybe Minesweeper. I hadn't intended to interact with anyone when I decided to go online.

*He is impulsive, but he's gotten better. You don't need to worry,* I carefully typed out to Noah.

As I did, I received a reply from Angela, *I'm glad you talked to him. He won't talk to me.*

I stared at her comment and considered copying what I'd sent Noah and sending it to her, but I couldn't do it. She deserved a proper response.

*I'm sorry he hasn't called you. Don't let him get away with it.* Then before either sent me a response, I quickly typed with my one hand, *I'm getting kind of tired. I'm going to take a nap. Bye.* I copied it and sent it to both. I logged off of NASN and stared at my desktop. I thought about going to some news sites to read articles about the attack, but I was afraid of what I would find out.

There was a tap at my door. Dad stood there looking a little unsure. "Uh Sarah, your mother says there's another package for you."

"Was it screened?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes, Capt. Timmons delivered it himself. He assured us everything in it was okay."

I cocked an eyebrow at the captain being the courier this time.

Mom leaned into the doorway. Her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "Sarah, what did you say to Damien West?"

"Oh no, what did he send?"

"A number of DVDs, computer games, and another cell phone."

I closed my eyes in dismay. "I didn't ask him for any of that."

"Another cell phone?" Dad asked.

"Yes, Noah Nash sent your daughter the first one."

I winced and ducked my head. "I didn't ask him for a cell phone either."

"Did you want a cell phone?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe? But I wasn't looking for one," I said.

"And now Damien West has sent you a care package?" he said.

"Yeah, he called earlier and asked me how I was doing. I guess he figured this stuff would cheer me up."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd like to take a look at these computer games." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"David, we can't accept this stuff."

"But they're a gift. It would be rude to reject them."

She scowled. "You know it's not right."

"What's not right about it?"

I kept my mouth shut. It wasn't often that my parents disagreed on something serious. I felt uneasy listening to them now. Dad's voice was staying calm, but Mom was getting clearly irritated. I think the more irritated she became, the calmer Dad would get. It was a mean trick to play on someone you disagreed with. I'd learned the technique from him.

"Because there's no way we can give something of equal value to him!"

"So? It's a gift. You don't give gifts expecting something in return."

"No, that's charity! And we don't need charity."

Dad sighed and glanced at me. "Damien West and you are friends?" he asked.

I winced and said, "Sorta."

"What does sorta mean?" Mom demanded, turning her irritation on me.

"I mean we get along better now, and I think he wants to be friends, but he's sorta tough to be friends with."

Dad nodded. "See, it's clearly a gift from a friend. Not charity. And who knows what that boy will do if we reject his gift."

I frowned, thinking Dad was using Damien's mercurial nature to his favor. Dad did love computer games.

Mom threw her hands up. "Fine, keep all of it, but if he sends anything else, we're sending it back unopened." She stomped back to the kitchen.

"Sounds good, dear," Dad called after her. He turned to me with a grin, "So what game do you want to play, kiddo?"

I sighed. Well, it looked like I knew what I was doing for the rest of the day.

After an hour of installing the game and three hours of actual game playing, I had to call it quits. Dad wanted to keep going, so I told him to go install it on his machine. He happily agreed saying he'd check on the things he was sure we'd missed. Mom brought dinner to me and I ate as much as I could, which only amounted to half. She frowned when she saw I hadn't cleaned my plate. I felt bad and tried to eat more, but I really couldn't do it. She took my plate away with a stroke of my hair. I was exhausted. It wasn't even seven o'clock yet, but I wanted to sleep. Mom drew a bath for me and covered the bandage on my back with plastic to keep it dry. I dozed off while in the tub. Mom's knock on the door roused me. She helped me out, dried me off, and put my pajamas on me.

I sighed in relief when she tucked me in.

"Thanks, Mom," I slurred.

She kissed my forehead and backed out of my room.

As I swiftly fell unconscious, I wondered what Damien was doing. It seemed he'd stayed on campus while everyone else had gone home. I hoped he wasn't lonely.

Monday, Day 8

Though I found it rather boring, I read my history textbook the next morning. I couldn't handle the thought of vegging in front of the TV all day like I'd done Sunday. Dad was eager to load where we'd left off on the computer game, but I'd fended him off with my stack of textbooks. The cell phone from Damien sat on my nightstand within easy reach. I was surprised that I hadn't heard from him yet. I picked it up to make sure it was on. It was. I looked at the contacts, thinking of inputting my home number and Grandma Cora's, and found Damien's number listed. I stared at it and wondered if he expected me to call him.

It would be like him: Send me a phone, and get irritated the longer I took to call to thank him for said phone. He'd also sent all those DVDs and computer games. I really should thank him. I should make Dad thank him as well, I thought dryly. I should call him. Maybe he knew something new about the manhunt. And I needed a break. I didn't contemplate why I needed so many excuses to call him. I held the phone tensely to my ear. I realized my palms were sweating. I wiped them on my pajamas, shuffling the phone between them. The phone continued to ring. Then it clicked over to voice mail.

"Leave a message."

My eyes widened as my mouth went dry. I hadn't prepared for this. I'd been sure Damien would pick up. I glanced at the clock. It was just after ten in the morning. And the beep had happened three seconds ago. I squeezed my eyes shut and started talking, "Damien, hey, it's Sarah. I got your, uh, care package. I wanted to say thank you. It was really thoughtful of you to send DVDs and computer games. My dad and I have been playing one of the games. It's fun. You didn't have to send me a phone, but I'll use it. You can call me. So, uh, thanks. Bye." I pressed the end call button and groaned. Dear God, I'd sounded like a doofus. I put the phone under the covers so I wouldn't have to look at it.

"Dad!" I called.

He came to my bedroom door. "Whatcha need?"

"Wanna continue the computer game?" I didn't want to think. It wasn't safe. Safer to play some mindless hack and slash with my father. He smiled and eagerly nodded.

We played until lunch. Mom fixed us hamburgers and French fries. We ate at the kitchen table. I had a checkup in the clinic that afternoon. Mom helped me dress and took me down to it. It was a little weird sitting in the wheelchair and being pushed around. I tried not to think of it as being like in a baby stroller, but once the idea entered my brain, I couldn't shake it.

"Will there be class tomorrow?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at her.

She nodded. "Yes, that was announced this morning."

"Any news on my attacker?"

Mom shook her head. "No, but they're doing everything they can to find him." I wondered if they'd told my parents about contacting Interpol. That still felt strange to me. That the FBI and Interpol had been contacted on my behalf. It seemed liked a lot. But I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't just for me. The school's reputation and the safety of the students depended on making sure my attacker was caught.

Dr. Chang was waiting for us when we entered the clinic. Mom and a nurse helped me change into a dressing gown. Dr. Chang checked my wound and said everything looked good there. He asked me how I was feeling and did various tests. He asked Mom to step outside with him at one point to talk about my recovery. I frowned at being excluded from the conversation. I wasn't a child. But I guess, because I wasn't a child, it was safe to leave me alone in the room, and it also gave Dean Crowe an opportunity to slip in and talk to me.

I sat up straight on the examination table and pulled the hospital gown around me nervously. Dean Crowe gave me a comfortable smile. "Sarah, I'm so glad to hear your recovery is going smoothly."

I nodded, but my eyes went to the door Mom and Dr. Chang were behind. Dean Crowe followed my eyes. "Yes, I asked Dr. Chang to give me a few moments alone with you."

I frowned slightly at this. I didn't like the sound of this. "What did you want to talk to me about, Dean?"

"Our little project, of course."

My eyebrows disappeared into my bangs at that response. I'd considered "our little project," aka taming Damien West, stalled due to stabbing. "Oh?" I said, unwilling to commit to any more robust response.

"Yes! You're doing marvelously, my dear! I'm very impressed. I know this incident has severely impaired you, but I want you to know that the administrative staff stands ready to assist you in any way you need."

I had to close my mouth because my jaw had gone slack in disbelief. What did he expect me to do? "Dean, I'm glad you're happy, but I don't really know what I can do right now. Dr. Chang says I need to stay in this wheelchair for a week at least. And he'd rather I just lie in bed rather than attend classes."

Dean Crowe clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "Yes, and your recovery is of the utmost importance to all of us, but I would hate to lose the progress we have made with young Damien."

"What progress?" I asked, mystified by his assertion.

Dean Crowe raised his eyebrows to me in disbelief. "Damien West hasn't maimed or assaulted a student in six days!" Yeah, it was only six days. The first day he assaulted me and Joshua, so only six days. I wondered darkly if his assault on me counted.

"What about Jenna Hannigan? He got her expelled. And I heard about his reaction to what happened to me. That wasn't stable behavior."

The dean waved off my concerns. "The Jenna incident was self-defense. She was clearly in the wrong. And of course, he was upset that you were attacked. I would've been concerned if he didn't react. I heard about the apology to Prof. Friedman. I'm very impressed."

I squinted at Dean Crowe because I couldn't believe he saw the incidents of the past week as rosy. "I'm glad you're happy, but I gotta say, I think I might need to change classes."

Dean Crowe's happy smile slowly slid off his face. I could admit to myself that I was developing feelings for Damien. But he had a girlfriend. And also, I suspected that all of these attacks stemmed from my association with him. I was almost killed. I cared about Damien. I wanted the best for him, but I had to worry about me, especially now as it became clear that the school wasn't going to.

Dean Crowe's face became stern. "Sarah, what are you saying?"

"Look at me! I was stabbed! That guy was going to slit my throat! I'm not exaggerating. He was going to if someone hadn't come out and seen him. If this is what it means to be friends with Damien, then I'm sorry, but I'm done."

"Sarah, please, we don't know why that man attacked you, and nothing like this is going to be allowed to happen again."

"You can't guarantee that. It's impossible and you know it."

"Sarah—"

"That's enough!" Mom charged into the room and got between Dean Crowe and me. "What do you think you're doing? My daughter isn't a part of your staff. She's a student!"

Dr. Chang hovered in the doorway looking helpless.

Dean Crowe held up his hands in a placating manner. "Now Barbara, you must understand Sarah has developed a rapport with Damien West that we must not squander. It's to the benefit of everyone that she continues her friendship with him."

Mom's face darkened. Dean Crowe was going to get it, her job be damned. "When you encouraged us to enroll Sarah here, you said she'd be just like any other student. You said it would be good for her to be around highly successful and bright students. You said it would lead her to excel. Then we were told she couldn't be in any clubs or do sports since she hadn't actually paid the activities fee. And then to top it all off, we were told Sarah couldn't eat in the cafeteria. Now here I find you meeting with her behind my back encouraging her to buddy up with a notoriously violent student. Why? Has his father issued an ultimatum that if Damien gets kicked out of Noble, he'll stop funding the school?"

Dean Crowe dropped his eyes. "Yes."

West, Inc.'s support of the school ensured its continued operation. They supplied over half the funding. If Damien's father stopped cutting checks for us, we'd be all out of jobs and homes.

But Mom did not care that the future of the school might rest on my shoulders. "And why is this my daughter's problem? You purposely put her in all of his classes. You knew something like this would happen. You're using her!"

"Damien picked his own classes," I corrected. "He followed me around the first day and purposely added himself to the courses I was in. He doesn't even need to take Spanish. He seems fluent already, but he insists on attending it with me."

Mom turned to blink at me. I'd mentioned Damien was in all of my classes, but not how that came to be. I knew the truth would concern them.

"This is unbelievable," Mom said. She turned to glare at Dean Crowe. "You're letting this boy stalk my daughter?"

"Oh, I don't think it's nefarious at all. He likes her. He responds well to her."

"He attacked her," she angrily countered.

"And then protected her when another student would have attacked her."

"And why did that student attack her? I heard what Sarah said and I agree. All of this obviously stems from her association with that boy."

"We can't know that. We still don't know if the attack on Sarah was premeditated. It may have been an unfortunate instance of wrong place, wrong time."

I frowned at that. The dean was blowing smoke. They knew I'd been the intended target. It was too obvious. But I didn't want to argue about it. "I'll stay friends with Damien, but I want some things in return."

Mom's eyes widened. "Sarah Smith, what are you thinking?"

"I want to eat in the cafeteria and be allowed to join clubs or sports teams. It's only fair. If I'm truly a student here, I should be allowed."

Dean Crow eagerly nodded. "I'll update your ID. You'll have full cafeteria privileges and you can participate in any of the clubs or sports you want."

"I want automatic extensions on all of my assignments and unlimited absences. If I can't come to class or do my schoolwork because of Damien, I don't want to be penalized."

Dean Crowe nodded again. "I'll alert all of your professors."

He was agreeing to all of this a little too readily. Was I asking for too little? One look at Mom's face squelched any other demands I might make. She didn't like this at all. If she balked at charity, she ran away from anything hinting at blackmail or extortion. My requests were teetering on that line. Anything else I might ask for would be crossing it.

"Okay, I think I can do this."

"Sarah, wait. You shouldn't have to," she said.

I grinned wryly at her. "We thought we were getting free tuition. We were pretty naïve, huh?"

Mom turned and looked darkly at the dean. "We never thought we were getting anything for free."

Dean Crowe coughed uncomfortably and backed up to the door. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make. Sarah, I'm so glad your recovery is going well. Please let us know if there's anything you need. Barbara, Dr. Chang, good day." He let himself out of the examination room.

"That man," Mom sighed, shaking her head.

"What did you mean by you never thought we were getting anything for free?" I asked.

"Nothing, dear. I just think that for the years your father and I have worked for this school that we earned your place in it."

Dr. Chang politely coughed. We turned to him. "Sarah is free to go. Just continue to use the wheelchair and get plenty of rest and drink plenty of liquids. If you feel up to it, you can try going to classes on Tuesday, but if you become overtired, please don't hesitate to go home to rest. You're, of course, excused from gym for the next month."

"Do I need to use the wheelchair if I go to class?" I asked, not liking the idea of trying to navigate the halls in it.

"Yes, most certainly. You may be well enough to stand for short moments, but do not try going anywhere without the chair."

I nodded with a grimace.

"Thank you, Dr. Chang," Mom said.

He nodded and left us alone. Mom helped me change back into my normal clothes and wheeled me out of the clinic. We were headed back to the apartment building, taking the long route because of the wheelchair.

"Sarah, I'm not comfortable with any of this," Mom said as she pushed me down the east hallway. The corridor was deserted. All of the classroom doors were shut. I was quite familiar with the emptiness from wandering around with Dad during breaks. This was more comfortable than when they were full of students.

"It's not so terrible, really. Damien took some getting used to, but we're doing better."

"Maybe so, but he isn't like other young men. Not even the other young men here. Be careful around him. He may not mean you any harm, but that doesn't mean none will happen."

I lightly snorted, rubbing the arm of the wheelchair. Harm had already happened, obviously.

"And what is going on between you and Noah Nash?" she asked.

I winced at the question. "I, honestly, don't know. Damien does not like him at all, but Noah acts like he's concerned for him and wants to be there for me. But I don't know. His concern feels a little disingenuous, but I can't be sure."

"But you've made other friends?" she asked hopefully.

"Sort of. Angela's a friend, but she's also Damien's girlfriend."

"He has a girlfriend?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I had to pick my jaw off the floor when I heard that. She's seems really nice, too, which makes me wonder why she stays with him, but she sees him in a totally different light than the rest of us. And then there are Andy and Tom, but they're more Damien's friends than mine. Joshua and Hank are the only two students who I can claim any friendliness with that are outside of Damien's social circle."

"No other girls?" she asked.

I sighed and shook my head. "I'd actually hoped early on to become friends with Jenna Hannigan. I thought she and I would get along well."

"Oh, honey," she said sadly.

I nodded. "Yep. That certainly didn't work out, did it?"

We turned into the south corridor and were immediately hailed.

"Sarah!"

Mom's footsteps slowed as Damien came running up to us. He was dressed all in black like the first day of school. His hair looked uncombed and there were still dark circles under his eyes. He halted before us and bent over to catch his breath. As he panted, he stared at me with a happy expression. That at least was an improvement.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked in amusement.

He wiped his upper lip with his t-shirt collar and swallowed. "I was hoping to see you."

I gave him a half-grin. "Well, here I am."

His eyes darted up to Mom.

I glanced back at her and winced at the dour expression on her face. "Um, I just went to see the doctor. Everything's okay. I gotta stay in the wheelchair for another week at least though."

Damien nodded and straightened. "That's good."

"Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. I'm glad you liked them."

There was a sigh from Mom. "Do you want to stay out here and talk?" she asked.

Damien's eyes immediately brightened.

"Yeah, I would," I said.

"Okay, I'm going back to the apartment. Damien, she can't be left alone. Do you understand?"

I rolled my eyes and wanted to protest that I wasn't an infant, but Damien put a hand over his heart and nodded. "I promise I won't abandon her. She's safe with me."

I knew Mom wouldn't believe that last part, but she was willing to let us be alone. "Okay, don't stay out too long," she said and let go of the wheelchair. She gave me a silent look that clearly indicated I should be careful. I nodded back and waved. As soon as she stepped away, Damien took her place.

Once Mom was gone, I looked over my shoulder at him. "So what have you been doing?" I asked lightly.

He didn't reply, instead he reached out and stroked the cheek where Jenna had hit me. "Your black eye is almost gone."

A shiver went down my back at his touch. I nodded, my face brushing his fingers more as I moved. I had to clear my throat to speak. "Yeah, it's a relief."

He pulled his hand back and placed it on the wheelchair handle again. He turned me around and began pushing me.

"I chatted with Angela yesterday. Have you talked to her?" I asked.

"No, didn't need to."

Geez, why did Angela put up with him? "You don't have to have a reason to talk to your girlfriend. You talk to her because she's your girlfriend."

"Well, I didn't want to talk to her," he snapped.

He turned the wheelchair down the east corridor. I was quiet, fearful any comment I might make now would irritate him. We turned at the exit midway down the east corridor. I roused at this. "Uh, where are we going?"

Damien hit the handicap button and pushed me out to the courtyard. "I thought we could hang out in my suite."

My eyes widened. His suite? Alone? I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I was kind of curious to see where he stayed. On the other hand, going to a boy's suite alone meant something, usually. I knew it really didn't in my case, but still, it could mean something. I shook my head at my semi-hopeful thoughts. I reminded myself that Damien didn't see me as a girl. Plus, I was in a wheelchair. I was sure it was possible to make-out in a wheelchair, but it was ridiculous to think I would have to figure out how. He probably wanted to show off all his cool stuff. I would "Ooh" and "Ahh" appropriately and that would be it.

Damien's suite was in the West Dorm, West referring to who paid for it, not the location. It was situated in the courtyard. West Dorm was the private suite dorm. The general dorms were stationed to either side of the main building. It was a sign of distinction to have a suite in this dorm. Damien's distinction was his name.

The lobby was empty. It felt like no one else was there. Most of the residents had probably been called home by their parents. I wondered if Noah had a room in there. I couldn't imagine he'd be in the general boy's dorm, but having him and Damien in the same building sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Damien called the elevator. When we got in, he punched in his security code to the keypad. I looked away to be polite, but he noticed. "It's 4783," he said.

I turned in surprise. "What?"

"My code. You should know it."

The elevator started rising. "Oh." I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goose bumps that had risen on them. Why did he think I should know his code? That was his private code.

"Are you cold?"

Startled that he'd noticed, I quickly nodded. "Just a little. It's okay."

When the elevator doors opened, we were in Damien's suite. I'd been in the suites before with Dad. Each one was different. The students given these suites usually paid to have them decorated to their taste so they looked different every time. I looked around the sitting room. There was a large flat screen television on the wall with a large, cream-colored leather sofa in front of it. Off to the side was a walk-in kitchen with a breakfast counter and barstools. The walls were a blank white. I hadn't really tried to imagine Damien's suite, but if I had, it wouldn't have been this empty white space.

I wasn't sure what to say, or if I was expected to say anything. Honestly, if I didn't know this was Damien's suite, I would've assumed it wasn't assigned to anyone.

"Come on, let's go to my room."

I opened and closed my mouth. His room meant his bedroom. I had definitely not thought I'd be going in there.

Damien pushed me across the thick carpet into his bedroom. It was four times the size of my bedroom. It had a large king-sized bed with a black comforter and gray sheets. I could tell what color his sheets were because the bed was a mess. The suites had dedicated housekeeping. I was surprised someone hadn't made Damien's bed already. There was a large computer desk in the corner. Multiple monitors were on it. Damien parked me before them.

"Did you want to play a game?" I asked.

Damien frowned. "No, I wanted to show you what I've found so far."

My eyebrows rose. "You've found something?"

He nodded and sat in the large computer chair. When he jiggled his mouse, a login screen appeared on the center monitor. He entered a password and all of the screens flashed on with different things on each one. I peered at them. Some had news articles about the attack. I tensed when I recognized a photo of my assailant on one screen. "That's him," I breathed, reading the text that ran down the side of the screen beside the photo.

His name was Ivan Volkov. He was a Russian national. Forty-eight years old. Freelance assassin.

"Have they found him?" I asked.

Damien shook his head with a grimace. "He's gone to ground. We have feelers out everywhere. If he tries to do anything, we'll know."

My eyes went back to the text: "Freelance assassin." That meant he hadn't acted on his own. Someone had definitely hired him to come to Noble Academy. "Do they know who hired him?"

"We've seized his assets and forensic accountants are going over his banking accounts now tracing back all of the money that's been paid to him, but all of the money's been transferred from dummy accounts. It's taking time to trace it all back. It's like looking for a particular needle in a stack of needles."

I nodded. I didn't envy them the task.

The fact that Damien was telling me this rather than Capt. Timmons had become basically a non-issue for me. For all I knew, Damien was heading the investigation now. He seemed to know everything. The file on Volkov was from Interpol. Damien had access to it like it was any other website.

"I've been focusing on Jenna in the hopes that she would be the easier path to your attackers."

"What do you mean?" I asked nervously. I remembered Angela's comment that Jenna had been checked into a recovery place. I began to wonder if she'd done so voluntarily.

"I've gone to see her twice now. She wouldn't give me anything the first time I saw her, but when I told her about the attack on you, she started to crack. The person who coerced her into attacking you is definitely female. She refused to give me the name, but it's obvious she knows it. I don't know what this person has on her, but it's keeping her from surrendering the name."

"Damien, you haven't been too harsh with her, have you?" I asked, dreading his answer. From what he'd said so far, I feared what he or others had done.

"She's our best lead at the moment."

"She's also a scared, teenage girl."

Damien turned and gave me a look. I stared back at him. We were right beside each other. Our chairs were actually closer than they usually were in class. I became nervous and dropped my eyes to his hands resting on the keyboard.

"You're a teenage girl," he said.

"Yeah, so?"

"Are you scared?" he asked softly.

I didn't lift my gaze from his hands. It didn't feel safe to look him in the eye. I rubbed my own hands, they were cold, but it was due to nerves and not temperature. "Sometimes," I acknowledged.

He reached over into my lap and took my good hand between his. He rubbed the back of it with his thumbs. I bit my lip at his actions. If things had been dangerous before, they were perilous now. He doesn't like you like that. He doesn't like you like that. I chanted these words silently.

"I get scared too," he murmured.

The silent chanting stopped. I lifted my eyes, but he had bent his head to stare at our hands. All I could see was the top of his head. I dropped my eyes back to our hands. He continued to rub mine with his.

"I can't control it. The doctors can't figure it out. They're basically panic attacks. My heart starts racing, I start panting, and everything feels unreal like I'm stuck in a nightmare. I feel like I'm not real. That everyone is just pretending I'm there. They've tried different drugs, but I hate them all. But if I can latch onto someone when it starts and focus on them, I can usually weather it out." He squeezed my hand. Things were falling into place now. All the times he'd reached for my free hand. I knew it hadn't been romantic handholding, but I hadn't known why else he'd reach for me.

"It's okay," I said, moving my fingers under his. "I don't mind."

He lifted his face to look at me. He looked so open and innocent. I crooked a smile. "I'm glad I can—" I meant to say I was glad I could help, but Damien's lips cut me off. His mouth was soft and a little damp. His lips gently closed over my top lip, while mine encased his bottom lip. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but I knew what Damien tasted like now: Coffee and licorice. When he pulled back, his eyes were open a little wider than usual.

"I probably shouldn't have done that," he said.

I swallowed and dropped my eyes. I was speechless.

"Sarah?" He put his fingers under my chin and tried to lift my face. I shook my head to avoid him. My face was burning. Why'd he have to say that? Why'd he have to regret it as soon as it happened? I knew why, but I would've liked five seconds to not feel shame and dismay. I knew this would hurt Angela. She was my friend. Damien let go of my hand. I squeezed it tightly into a fist and pressed it into my lap. I had to keep it together. My heart was pounding.

"Sarah?" he asked again. His mouth was right beside my ear. His breath tickled it. Another wave of shivers went down my spine. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't let him see me like this. If he saw my face, he'd know how much I liked him. I shook my head again. Face firmly tilted down.

Damien sighed and pushed himself back to give me space. "Sorry," he murmured.

I had to squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw at that. I didn't want him to be sorry. I wanted him to want to kiss me again. I wanted him to like touching me, not have to because I was some sort of life preserver to cling to keep from drowning.

"Maybe you should take me home," I said.

"Sarah, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You're upset."

I was upset, but not about the kiss. I was upset that he regretted doing it. I was upset that we weren't supposed to kiss.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had to pull it together. Tell him that it was okay, that I wasn't upset. When I lifted my face, I was startled to find him right there again. I gasped and pulled back. He didn't flinch or move back. He peered at my face intently.

"It's fine, Damien, but I'd like to go home now."

"Why?" he asked.

I grimaced. I was going to have to lie. "It's time for my pain medicine."

He immediately straightened. "Oh, of course." He took control of the wheelchair and carefully swung it around to push it out of the bedroom.

I folded my hands in my lap and stayed quiet as he took me back to the elevator. My lips still tingled. That had been my first kiss. Damien's first kiss was probably with Angela. I wish I didn't constantly remember her. I wish she weren't so nice. I wish I had a reason to dislike her, but she was damn near perfect. I wished she'd never befriended me. I wished she weren't dating Damien. I wished and wished, but knew none would come true.

We rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. I wondered what Damien would do after dropping me back off at the apartment building. Would he go back to his bank of monitors and continue to search for my unknown enemy? He shouldn't have to give up all of his time for me. He should do other stuff. Relax. Have some fun. The dark circles that had been under his eyes since my attack made it clear he wasn't taking care of himself.

When the doors opened, Noah Nash was there seemingly waiting for us.

"Sarah, how are you?" he asked, ignoring Damien.

Damien tried to push the wheelchair around the blond boy, but Noah moved to block our path. I worried Damien would crash me into him to make him move. I clutched the wheelchair arm in fear.

"Um, hi, Noah. I'm doing better," I said, only glancing at him briefly.

"Hey, I hope you're not upset with me."

"Why would she be upset? What did you do?" Damien asked darkly.

Noah didn't answer him. Instead, he crouched down before me. I scooted back in my chair, uncomfortable with his sudden closeness. "I didn't mean to weird you out. I swear I only want to be your friend." He seemed sincere, but I didn't understand why he was so insistent in reaching out to me. I was just a freshman, even worse, a child of servants. We had nothing in common and no reason to interact, but he kept putting himself in my life.

"She doesn't need you as a friend," Damien said. He jerked the wheelchair back and I lurched in my seat.

"Careful!" Noah shouted.

"Just leave us alone!" Damien yelled, pushing me quickly out of the dorm into the courtyard.

He cut through the courtyard to the south corridor and out the back to the apartment building. He wasn't running, but it was close. Thankfully the sidewalks were perfectly smooth so I wasn't bumped around and the automatic doors opened in time, but we were going too fast for my comfort. Damien was breathing heavily behind me. I craned my neck back to look at him. "Hey," I said softly.

He slowed to a halt. We were halfway between the school and the apartment building. I stayed quiet while he calmed down. I wanted to reach back and touch his hand, but my injury prevented me from twisting around like that.

"Sorry," he muttered. He started pushing me again, but at a slower, calmer pace.

"It's okay," I said. I wanted to know what his history was with Noah, but I knew he wouldn't tell me if I asked. Maybe he would volunteer it eventually, like he had about the panic attacks.

"Do you have your cell phone?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no. Why?"

"You can use mine. You need to call one of your parents down to get you back to your apartment, right?" He held his cell phone out to me. I stared at it a second and then raised my eyes to his.

"Do you want to come in?" He'd shown me his suite. I should return the favor, and I didn't like the idea of him going back to it alone, especially right now when he was still clearly upset. I knew my apartment was cramped and unimpressive, but at least he wouldn't be alone.

"I thought you didn't want me to see it."

I sighed. "I was a little ashamed of it, but it's okay now."

"Why would you be ashamed of it?" He sounded like he truly didn't understand.

I smiled. "Damien, your suite is bigger than our apartment. You have nicer furniture and better electronics. And that's just your room at school. Your home is an amazing mansion. It's a pretty big disparity."

He ducked his head. "I'd still like to see your place."

"Well, today's your lucky day." I held out my ID. He swiped it in the card reader and the door opened. He pushed me through and called the elevator.

I hoped Mom wouldn't be too upset that I'd invited Damien over. I realized it was close to dinner time. Could Damien stay to eat? Sure, he could go to the cafeteria and get a gourmet dinner, but I had the feeling he wouldn't. I hadn't seen any food in his suite. I doubted he was eating regularly.

When we entered the apartment, I didn't need to call out to my parents to tell them I was home and that I'd brought company. Both of them were standing in the kitchen's entrance, staring at us. I suddenly remembered the last time my father had spoken to Damien had been on his knees in Capt. Timmons office. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Damien, surprisingly, picked up on the tension and stepped around me toward my parents. He got on his knee before them and bowed his head. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I'm truly sorry for all the trouble that I have caused you. I wish I could undo all of it. If there's ever anything I can do for you, just ask."

Mom didn't look like she wanted to accept the apology, but Dad stepped forward and lifted Damien up. He gave the teenage boy a friendly smile. "That's fine, son. Are you staying for dinner? We're having spaghetti."

He glanced back at me for guidance. I gave him a little nod and a smile.

"May I?" he asked, his eyes turning to Mom.

She sighed. "Yes, of course. There's plenty to go around."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Dad gave Damien a pat on the arm. "Excellent! Oh, and I gotta thank you for those computer games you sent Sarah. I've been enjoying them."

"You have?"

I snorted. "Yeah, he's way more into them than me."

"You don't like them?" Damien asked, sounding disappointed.

"Oh, no, I like them. It's just Dad likes them a lot more."

"We've had fun playing them together," Dad assured him.

"You play them together?"

"Well, I can only use one hand, so we play basically like a co-op. He controls the mouse while I press the keys on the keyboard."

Damien smiled. "Huh, sounds fun."

"It is except when someone insists on checking everything. We'd be a lot further along if this one couldn't leave any part of the map dark," I said, pointing at Dad, who grinned unrepentantly.

"If you don't check, you might miss something important."

I rolled my eyes. "The main quest is what's important. All the rest is just padding."

"But padding's fun! It's the whole reason to play the game," he protested.

"No, that's the main quest, the thing the developers made all the cut scenes in relation to, that they describe on the back of the box."

"Eh, window dressing," he said.

I glared at him. "The main quest is just window dressing for a bunch of fetch quests and escort missions?"

He nodded his head. "Yep."

I could only shake mine in reply.

Damien was watching us bicker in fascination.

Dad's eyes went to Damien. "So Damien, what's your favorite game?"

Damien frowned slightly. "I don't really play them. They tend to give me headaches."

"Oh, sorry to hear it. Though, it's probably good. Computer games will rot your brain like some world-renowned experts say." He'd pitched his voice to reach the kitchen.

Mom took the bait. "You could've read all of Tolstoy by now if you didn't play those silly games."

"Could've but wouldn't have enjoyed my time as much," Dad said in a lower voice to us.

Damien grinned. "I have read Tolstoy. It hasn't done me any good."

That caught both of us by surprise. Dad's face broke into a delighted grin. "Oh, slip that into conversation with Barbara somehow. I'd love to see her reaction."

"Has she read Tolstoy?"

"No, she's too busy taking care of us," I said, repeating her oft-used complaint, but if we tried to help out or take over, we were quickly shooed away.

Dad smiled amicably. "Here, Damien, sit down. Take a load off. Dinner's still a bit a ways off. Hey, do you want to look at baby pictures?"

"Dad!" I exclaimed.

Damien's mouth stretched into a truly evil smile. "Yes."

"No! Mom!"

"What?" she yelled back sounding aggrieved.

"Dad's trying to embarrass me," I complained.

"What's he trying to do?"

"He wants to show Damien baby pictures."

"No! I want to show them!"

"Moooom!"

Damien was snickering uncontrollably now. Dad had the album in his hands.

I glared at both of them. "Let's go to my room," I said to Damien.

His eyebrows rose at that and he turned to my father.

Dad hugged the album to his chest. "I guess this can wait until after dinner. Go on."

I continued to scowl at Dad as Damien came over and pushed my wheelchair to the short hallway. "First door on the right," I said.

Damien pushed me in and stopped to take in my room. Unlike Damien's room, my bedroom was only big enough for a twin bed. The desk I had was small and the computer took up most of the workspace. And I only had one monitor. Stuffed animals, saved from my childhood, were displayed on the bed and bookcase. A few movie posters were tacked to the walls. There was a bureau with a mirror that had various pictures slipped into the frame. As Damien continued to silently stare, I became uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

"Hey, if you—" I was going to offer him the option of going back to the living room, but he pushed me further into the room and slipped out from behind the wheelchair. He moved to the bureau first to look at all of the clutter on it. Various hair accessories and jewelry were scattered across it. He looked at the pictures tucked in the mirror. Some of them were of friends from middle school. Others were of me and my parents or me and Grandma Cora. I should probably put away the middle school pictures. I missed my small handful of friends and looking at their smiling faces everyday wasn't making it any easier. I'd kept in touch with them over the summer, but the time between calls and emails kept getting longer and longer. We were growing apart and it might be time to accept that those ties were severed.

He touched a few things on the bureau lightly. Almost tentatively. He drifted from the bureau to the bookcase in the corner. He crouched down to look at it. A few of my favorite mangas were there, along with some books and CDs. He tilted his head to the side to read the spines. All I could do was watch him.

"Your home's really nice," he said.

His comment surprised me. He was still looking at the bookcase. "Thanks," I said. "It's not much, but it's all right."

He rose and reached onto my bed to pick up my stuffed rabbit. It was my favorite. I'd had it for years. The hair was worn thin and Mom had to stitch it back together a few times, but it was still my favorite. He brought it to his face. My eyes widened when he smelled it.

"Um," I said uncomfortably, not sure what to say.

"It smells like you," he said, taking it from his face.

Smelled like me? I didn't know how I smelled, but I hoped it wasn't bad. He put it back on the bed and his hand drifted over the other two stuffed animals there: A fox and a lamb. Then he ran his hand over my pillow. "I really like your room."

"Thanks," I said, but I was beginning to feel a little exposed. He hadn't done anything embarrassing like open my underwear drawer and the very thought of him doing that had me sweating, but his perusal of my belongings made me feel like he was seeing more of me than I'd intended.

"Kids, dinner's ready!" Mom called from the kitchen.

Damien's face lit up. I suddenly worried that he expected something fancier than we could offer. "It's just store-bought sauce and hamburger meat with spaghetti noodles," I warned.

He came over to pull my wheelchair out of the room and back to the kitchen. "Sounds good. She called us kids." He said that last part with a touch of glee.

I turned to him in confusion. "Yeah so?"

He just continued to grin, seemingly charmed. I realized he probably wasn't referred to as a kid often. "Young master" was probably what he heard more often. Damien parked me at my obvious seat at the table, being the only place setting without a chair. Dad was already seated. Mom was still at the counter. Plates of steaming spaghetti were already set out. "Damien, what would you like to drink? We have soda, milk, juice, and water."

"Milk, please," he said, surprising me.

"Sarah?" Mom asked.

"Soda," I said.

She poured a glass of milk for Damien and opened a can of soda for me. Dad already had a glass of water, and Mom had a glass of soda at her plate.

After distributing the drinks, Mom finally sat. She was across the table from me. Damien sat on my left and Dad to the right. Mom held her hands out. Damien didn't appear to know why. Dad took Mom's other hand and mine. I held out my hand and nodded for him to take it. He tentatively took Mom's hand and took hold of mine, his thumb beginning immediately to stroke the back of my hand. I hoped neither parent noticed it. They might get the wrong idea.

We all bowed our heads. Damien a second behind, as he mimicked us.

"Oh Lord, we wish to thank you for the bounty here before us and the privilege of sharing it with another. May You continue to watch over us and guide us in dark and bright times," Mom said.

"Amen," we said.

"Yum," Dad said, swirling his fork in his spaghetti.

I grinned and did the same. Damien appeared to still be a second behind us, watching our movements, still mimicking. I was sure his table manners were better than ours, but then I remembered that weird catered lunch he'd had set up. He'd picked up that piece of chicken to eat with his hands. I'd thought he was just being rude. Surely he knew all of the fancy manners.

"Do you want some Parmesan cheese?" Mom asked Damien, offering him the plastic container.

He looked at the item in uncertainty.

I held out my hand. "I'd like some," I said.

Dad helped hand it down to me, and I sprinkled some Parmesan onto my pasta. When I was done, I silently offered it to Damien again. He took it and experimentally put some Parmesan on his plate. He still hadn't taken a bite. I twirled some pasta onto my fork and brought it to my mouth. My movements a touch slower and more careful for Damien's benefit. He followed suit, and I watched him take his first bite. He let out a low "Mmmhhhmmm" in appreciation. My eyes strayed to Mom and saw she'd been watching the whole silent lesson. She appeared surprised but didn't say a word, refocusing on her own plate instead.

"So, classes start back tomorrow," Father said.

"Are you going?" Damien asked me. His eyes a touch wider than necessary. I realized he would most likely skip if I weren't there.

"Dr. Chang said I could go to class if I felt up to it. I just need to take it slow and be careful."

"I'll help you," he offered.

Dad smiled silently at his eager offer while Mom gave a small shake of her head in quiet disapproval. "Thanks," I said.

"Dean Crowe has also given Sarah access to the cafeteria," Dad said. I gave him a considering look. He seemed to be up to something.

"We can have lunch together?" Damien asked happily.

I ducked my head to hide the blush I could feel coming on. "Yeah, I guess so," I said as nonchalantly as possible.

When I peeked up, I saw Mom was watching me suspiciously. I dropped my eyes again.

"Cora is coming out this weekend to visit. She's sorry she couldn't come out sooner to see you, Sarah," Dad said.

"When did you find this out?" Mom asked, all of her attention turning to Dad. She obviously hadn't heard about this.

"She called earlier today and asked. You don't need to do anything."

"Don't need to do anything? I have to buy groceries. Where will she sleep? Sarah can't sleep on the air mattress and neither can Cora."

I could see Damien wanted to know who Cora was. "She's my grandmother. She had hip replacement surgery two months ago."

Damien nodded in understanding.

"I'll take the air mattress. It'll be fine," Dad said.

Mom considered this. Usually I took the air mattress and Grandma Cora took my bed. But Dad's solution could work, though I could tell Mom wasn't thrilled with the idea of sharing a bed with her mother-in-law. "Well, I suppose that'll have to do," she conceded.

I waited for Dad to say something else. He seemed to be in charge of all of the conversation.

But Mom was the one to speak. "Damien, I hope your mother is doing well. I read she'd been recently ill."

My eyes turned to Damien. He'd never mentioned his parents, but of course we were aware of them. His mother was a philanthropist, organizing fund raisers for a large number of charities, as well as events for Noble. I'd seen her from a distance. She'd been a tall, slim woman, dressed in a designer dress, hair perfectly swept up. She'd been directing the decoration efforts for a soiree in the courtyard. There'd been over fifty employees from a catering company buzzing around her, and she'd been directing them all. Seeing to every last detail.

Damien's fork had frozen halfway to his mouth. "She's in rehab. Pills."

Mom's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry. All the article said was that she couldn't make a function due to illness."

"Well, that's why." He moved the spaghetti around on his plate.

We were all quiet for a bit after that.

"You haven't taken your pill," Damien suddenly said.

I looked up from my plate in surprise. "Sorry?"

He was looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, it's still another hour until her next one," Mom said.

Damien's eyes narrowed more. I suddenly remembered, I'd told him that the reason I wanted to leave his room was that I needed to go to take my pain medicine. I dropped my eyes from Damien's, knowing I'd been caught out.

"Your back bothering you, kiddo?" Dad asked.

I shook my head. "Only a little."

Damien pushed away from the table. "Mrs. Smith, thank you for the lovely dinner. I won't intrude on your family time any further."

Mom blinked. "What? You've barely eaten anything. Please, I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, that's not it. I'll just see myself out."

"Damien, no," I said.

He looked at me a moment then turned away.

"Young man, why are you upsetting the ladies?"

Dad's voice wasn't friendly anymore. It had a touch of anger to it which always made me squirm.

"It's not my intention, sir."

"Then sit back down," he said. It wasn't a request.

Damien stood there a moment, staring at my father. I wasn't sure if challenging Damien directly was a way to get anywhere with him. It never seemed to work well for me. Grunting a little in discomfort, I reached over and tugged on his chair, hitting the backs of his knees. He looked down at me. "Sit," I said in a pleading tone.

He swallowed uncomfortably and slowly sat back down.

He put his hands in his lap and bowed his head.

Mom sighed and set her fork down. "David," she pleaded.

"Damien, finish your dinner," he said. His tone was still unfriendly.

I looked miserably at my own plate, wishing to bring back the lighter atmosphere from earlier.

"It's really good, Mom," I said, making myself scoop up some ground beef and eating it.

"Thank you, Sarah."

"It is good, Barbara. Like always," Dad said, picking up his fork again.

Damien's hand crept out and picked up his fork. He speared a piece of beef and brought it to his mouth. Seeing him eating again relieved me a little. I started eating normally.

But things remained too quiet, and Damien still seemed a bit depressed.

So I kicked him to cheer him up.

The first one didn't get any reaction. He probably thought it was an accident. I did it again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look over at me. I firmly kept my face pointed down and kicked him again.

He looked at my parents but neither of them knew anything was going on.

I kicked him a fourth time.

I could tell it was beginning to really annoy him. I kept eating and pretending nothing was going on.

When he was trying to bring his fork to his mouth, I rocked his chair with my foot. Tomato sauce smeared across his cheek as he missed his mouth. I snickered. He ate the bite and picked up his napkin. He wiped his face while glaring at me.

"Having trouble there, Damien?" Father asked. He'd caught onto my mischief, but seemed willing to play along.

"Just a minor mishap, sir," he said.

He put his napkin down and swirled his fork in his remaining spaghetti while watching me closely. I glanced up at him, biting my lip to hold back my smile. As he was bringing his fork to his mouth again, my foot shot out and kicked him quickly repeatedly. He got sauce on his nose this time which set me off. I couldn't hide my mirth as I giggled uncontrollably. It was juvenile, but it felt good. Even the corners of Damien's mouth were curling up as he wiped his nose.

"Is your chair wobbly, Damien?" Dad asked.

Mom noticed this with a frown. "What? That chair is perfectly fine."

"No, it's fine," Damien said, shooting me a warm glare.

She finally noticed my less than innocent grin. "Sarah, stop pestering him," she said.

"I'm not doing anything," I protested.

Her eyes narrowed. She looked at Dad.

"I haven't seen anything," he said, which was a well-picked truth.

"It's fine, Mrs. Smith," Damien assured her. She watched me, and as she did, my foot shot out and kicked Damien again. He visibly jumped.

Mom bent over and stuck her head under the table, but my feet were back on my footrests for the wheelchair.

"Damien, the best defense is a strong offense," Dad said, and his foot hit me in the shin. I actually rolled back a few inches. I'd forgotten to set the brake.

"Hey!" I protested.

Damien blinked in seeming disbelief that my father had just kicked me.

"Go ahead try it," he urged him.

"David!" Mom cried out.

"What?" he said innocently. And Mom jumped.

"You're worst that the children!" she cried and put her hands flat on the table. Knowing what was coming, I looked under the table and watched her slipper clad foot hit Dad in the shin. I couldn't help laughing loudly at the sight.

Damien was looking at all of us in confusion. I doubted his parents had ever kicked him in the shin or each other for that matter. I was surprised he hadn't retaliated against me yet. It didn't feel right to keep kicking him if he wouldn't do anything, so I kicked Dad instead. "Oh ganging up on me?" he said.

He tried to kick Mom and me at the same time but neither kick was that powerful. His foot barely grazed me. "You could never multi-task," Mom said and obviously kicked him again.

Damien was biting his lip. His shoulders shaking. I was happy he was at least amused.

"Damien, help me out," Dad pleaded, now swiveling in his seat to avoid Mom only to give me both his legs as good targets.

Damien put his hand over his mouth to hold in his laughter.

"What was that about a strong offense?" Mom asked. Kick.

Dad mock-scowled at her. "What about our vows?"

"I don't remember a no-kicking vow." Kick.

"What about love, cherish, and obey?"

"Ha! You weren't listening you silly man. I never said obey." Kick.

I had to hold my stomach because I was giggling so hard.

Dad pretended mock shock. "Well, I never! You think you know someone!"

"Well, you don't!"

"Well!"

"Well!"

"Well!"

"Well!—Wait, who started this again?" Dad asked.

Mom frowned and both of them turned to glare at me.

I squirmed in my chair. "Oh, now you're going to gang up on the invalid?" I asked in mock outrage.

"She's too far away from me to get," Mom said. She tapped Damien on the back of the hand. "You get her," she said. Damien tensed and looked at me. I tilted my head and batted my eyes at me.

"You wouldn't hurt a girl in a wheelchair, would you?" I asked in a piteous voice.

"How many times has she kicked you?" Dad countered.

Damien grabbed the edge of his chair and looked around the table at us. He seemed really unsure how to act. I began to worry we were acting a little too inappropriately.

"Baby pictures!" Father crowed.

"Oh, yes, excellent," Mom said.

"Wait, no!" I cried.

Dad rose from his chair. He waved to Damien. "Come on, my boy. Let's go to the living room, and you can see Sarah in a whole new light."

"Dad!"

Mom began gathering dishes. Dad went into the living room. Damien rose, but he seemed unsure. With Mom's back turned, he crouched down beside me and took my hand, squeezing it tightly several times.

"Are we being too silly?" I whispered, concerned that he needed the tactile comfort.

"I don't know," he said, rubbing my hand.

"I'm sorry I lied to you again," I whispered.

Damien head was bent down as he continued to knead my hand. "I wish you wouldn't."

I sighed and gave his hands a squeeze. "I know."

"Why did you?" he asked.

My hand went cold at the question.

"Damien, come on," Father called.

Damien stayed crouched at my feet. "Go ahead," I said.

His breathing was a little fast. I felt bad that our antics might have caused him an attack. He looked over his shoulder at Mom, her back to us as she rinsed dishes in the sink. He rose, and as he did, he swept in and he kissed me on the cheek. I knew my eyes were huge when he stood up straight. He moved behind me and took hold of my wheelchair. "Let's go look at baby pictures," he said. His voice sounded a little husky.

My cheeks were blazing. I couldn't let Dad see me like this. I put my cold hands to my face and tried to rub away the color.

I heard Damien chuckle. "I don't have cooties," he murmured.

I glanced back at him. He seemed to think I was rubbing away his kiss. I supposed I was inadvertently. He parked me by the sofa where Dad was already sitting with the album waiting. Damien sat down between us, and Dad put the album in his lap.

"Let the embarrassment commence," Dad said.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Damien glanced over at me, silently asking if it were all right.

"Go ahead, I'll just add this to an already long list of parental abuse I've been compiling all my life. You'll see examples of some of that abuse in that book."

"Whine, whine, whine," Dad said and opened the album for Damien.

The first page had images of the day I was born.

"Here she is, at only six hours old," Dad said, pointing to a picture of me. I still had the hospital bracelet around my tiny wrist. "And here she is with Momma, and who's that handsome devil holding her there?" he said, indicating a picture of him holding me.

Damien grinned. He turned the page. The next couple of pages had portraits of me from when I was less than a year old. I was dressed in tiny dresses. There was a portrait of the whole family. And in the corner, a naked picture of me in a small basin. "Sarah's first bath," Dad told him. I kept quiet, trying to mitigate the possible embarrassment, but Dad wasn't about to let it slide by without milking it for all it was worth.

"And that, Damien, is the only way you'll ever see Sarah naked," he said.

"Yes, sir," Damien answered without missing a beat.

"Good man," he replied.

I glared at both of them. Neither noticed.

Damien turned the page.

There were pictures of me with a birthday cake, in a Halloween costume, at a beach.

Damien peered at them all. Dad pointed at different ones, telling little stories about certain ones. Mom eventually came out and joined us. She leaned in over Dad to point out certain pictures. I suffered the gentle ribbing. I noticed Damien seemed to look longest at the pictures of the whole family. I noticed he'd run his finger along the edge of a few. His comment about his mother made me wonder about his relationship with his parents.

I dozed off while they were still looking at the album. I didn't stir until everyone started getting up from the sofa. Damien was saying good night to my parents. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

Damien saw I was awake. "Maybe you should stay home tomorrow. You seem to still need a lot of rest."

I couldn't help yawning before answering. "I don't want to stay home all day."

"Maybe you should, though," Damien said and his voice had a touch of worry in it.

I blinked and looked at him, surprised by his honest concern. He turned to my parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith thank you so much for dinner. It was wonderful."

Dad held out his hand. Damien shook it with a smile. "It was nice having you here, Damien. We'll have to do it again sometime."

"I would like that, sir."

When Dad let go of his hand, Mom stepped up and pulled Damien into a hug. "Now be good. Go home and get some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," but Damien sounded a little uncomfortable. I think he hadn't expected the hug. Mom gave him a squeeze and let him go.

He turned and gave me a long look. I knew he wanted to reach out to me, but he very well couldn't while both of my parents stood there. I smiled up at him and snagged his hand to give it a squeeze. "You'll hear from me one way or another tomorrow," I promised.

He nodded and silently squeezed my hand back. He let it go and with one last wave to my parents, exited the apartment.

We were all quiet for a beat after Damien left.

"He doesn't seem that bad," Dad finally offered.

"No, not now," Mom replied, but it was clear she still disapproved of my association with him.

"I should go to bed," I quietly said.

Dad said good night to me, and Mom took me back to my bedroom to help me change into my pajamas.

As she helped me out of my top, I stared at her silently. I wanted to reassure her that she didn't need to worry about Damien, but I couldn't say the words. She might not need to worry about Damien doing something awful to me, but there was the danger of him doing something else. I had to will myself not to think about the two kisses. I knew I would become flustered if I did and Mom would know Damien was the cause, even if she didn't know all of the details.

"It'll be nice to see Grandma," I offered.

Mom nodded as she slipped my sleep shirt over my head and helped get my arms through the armholes. "Yes, I'm sure it will be."

I smiled to myself. "I wonder what she'll make of Damien."

Mom frowned. "I'd rather they didn't meet."

I frowned back at her. "Why?" Grandma Cora could be quite blunt, but I thought Damien might like that.

"Tonight was nice, honey, but I don't think Damien should come over to the apartment again."

I looked at her in disbelief. "But Mom, Damien really liked meeting both of you. I could tell. I think being here really helped him."

Mom nodded but didn't look at me when she replied, "I think it did, too. But we're not his family."

"So?" I asked, still not understanding.

Mom smoothed my hair back from my face. "You may go to Noble Academy, Sarah, but you're the daughter of staff. You and Damien don't exist in the same worlds. You may see and hear each other, but you'll never really touch. You'll never be on the same plane."

I didn't reply and silently Mom tucked me into bed. I felt like a little kid again as I lay back. "Sweet dreams, dear," she said as she turned out the lights.

I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. Was Mom right? Were Damien and I too different to be anything to each other? I let the memories of the kisses come back to me. I pulled my covers up and closed my eyes. I wondered what Damien would think of my mother's words. He'd certainly take issue with the notion that we couldn't touch. And I could admit in the darkness of my room that I took issue with it, too.

Tuesday, Day 9

Breakfast was quiet that morning. Mom had already asked me multiple times if I was sure about going to class. She'd even commented that I looked pale and tired. All of her questions and comments had irritated me to the point where even if I hadn't been feeling up to it, I would've gone to class anyway. I had no desire to spend the whole day home with her if she was going to be like that. I think my last assurance about being fine had indicated my feelings on this a little too clearly.

Dad had volunteered to take me to my first class, but I reminded him that he didn't have to. I already had a chauffeur. I sent Damien a text saying I was going to class and asked if he'd push me. For once, his constant presence would be a blessing. He could push me to all of my classes.

When we went downstairs, Damien wasn't there. I watched the back door of the school, waiting for him to come running out, but the doors remained closed and no poofy-haired boy appeared from any other direction either. I took my new cell phone out and sent him another text to ask him where he was. We waited a minute with no reply.

"Maybe he's running late," Dad offered.

"Yeah, maybe," I said.

"Tell him I'll take you to class."

I nodded and punched in the message. Dad pushed me through the halls to Prof. Edward's class. Everyone turned to stare at us as we made our way down the hall. I felt like I was under a microscope. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

When we reached my class, a hush fell over the room. Everyone turned to stare at us. Dad quietly asked where I sat. I pointed to the far corner. Damien wasn't here yet either. As we made our way back, I smiled at the classmates whose eyes I met, but none smiled back. They all just looked away. Maybe this had been a really stupid idea.

Dad parked me at the desk and crouched down beside me.

"Do you want me to swing by when class is over?" he asked.

I hadn't imagined Dad being the one taking me around the school. I ducked my head. "No, it'll be all right."

He looked uncertain.

"It's fine. You have work to do. I'll be all right."

"But—" he began.

I waved the phone at him. "I'll call if I need help."

His eyes focused on the phone and he nodded. "Good enough, I guess. Don't overdo it today."

"I won't. Thanks."

"Okay. Bye, kiddo."

He straightened and left the class.

Once Dad was gone, I was alone. I looked at my phone again. Damien hadn't texted me or appeared. Where was he?

When the bell rang, class started with still no Damien. I became more and more worried as class progressed and he still didn't appear. When the bell rang, everyone filed out without so much as a word to me. I looked around helplessly. I'd planned on Damien being there. Without him, there was no one for me to ask for help. If I'd had her number, I would've called Angela, but I didn't have it. The only numbers on my phone were Damien's, Dad's work cell, and home. I really didn't want to call Dad. If I had to call him, I'd tell him just to take me home. I couldn't see making him stop every hour to find me and take me to my next class.

"What class do you have next, Sarah?" Prof. Edward asked.

I looked up in surprise. He'd come back to my desk.

"Prof. Engler's," I said.

He nodded. "Would you like me to take you?"

I looked down at my phone again. Where was Damien?

"Sarah?" Prof. Edward asked.

I tilted my head up to look at him. "Yes, please."

He nodded and moved to the back of my chair. "How are you doing?" he asked, as he pulled me out from behind the desk.

"I probably shouldn't be here," I said, and that could be taken on several levels I realized.

"And yet here you are, unlike some able-bodied students," he said, clearly hinting at Damien's absence.

I didn't respond. My phone remained quiet. I barely looked up as we went down the halls. I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes. I couldn't believe I was so socially destitute that I had to rely on the professors to chauffeur me around. I'd thought getting Dad to do it would be pathetic. I hadn't imagined there would be a worse option.

Prof. Edward steered me to my desk in Prof. Engler's classroom, barely asking which one was mine. Damien and I did seem to sit in the same spot in every class. With a quiet farewell, he left me, and went to the front to say something to Prof. Engler. It looked to be about me if Prof. Engler's glance in my direction was any indication. I couldn't look at them knowing I was the subject. Damien still did not appear and my phone remained silent.

When the bell rang, Prof. Engler came back and took my chair without asking. "Where do you need to go?" she asked.

I frowned. I didn't appreciate her commandeering my wheelchair, and I didn't appreciate the put upon tone in her voice. I was beginning to wonder why I had ever liked her.

"Prof. Nuñez's," I said.

She sighed and pushed me out of the room. I needed to be in the wheelchair for the week at least. The thought of having to find someone every class to push me filled me with so much dread. I didn't want to be a burden and I didn't want to be helpless, but currently that was all I was. Prof. Engler pushed me just inside Prof. Nuñez's classroom and left without so much as a good bye, leaving me in everyone's way. My classmates moved around me awkwardly. A few mumbled, "Excuse me," as they scooted around me, but none offered to help me.

Prof. Nuñez came to my rescue. She jumped from her desk and slipped up behind my chair.

"How are you doing, Sarah?" she asked softly and pushed me to my desk.

"Better than Damien, it seems. I mean something terrible must be wrong, since even in a wheelchair, I'm still attending classes," I muttered.

"¿Él no está en la escuela hoy?"

My Spanish was still rudimentary, but I understood Prof. Nuñez's question clearly enough. "No, él no está en la escuela hoy."

"Pues. Tendremos que hacer sin él."

And she had lost me, but I figured nodding was a safe call. She smiled back with a nod and went up to the front. I paid attention as best as possible. But I had a nagging worry that wouldn't leave me. Lunch was next period. I had no idea what I was going to do about eating and getting to my next class. My whole decision to attend classes today had been based on the idea that Damien would be here the whole time. The more I thought about it and wondered where he was the more irritated I became. He still hadn't texted me back. I refused to text him again. If something had happened, I would've surely heard about it. The entire school would've been talking. Instead, he just wasn't there. I suddenly knew where I wanted to go during lunch. Damien wouldn't have told me his code if he didn't want me to go to his suite, right? After I was done yelling at him, he'd probably change the code, though.

But I didn't know how I was going to get to the dorm. Why couldn't Noble have sprung for a motorized wheelchair? Or was that only for the richie riches? Or maybe they expected them to buy their own. That's what Damien should've bought me rather than DVDs, computer games, and a cell phone. I didn't know how much a motorized wheelchair cost, but I was sure he could afford it, after all he'd bought an elevator.

By the time class ended, I was in such a foul mood; I was ready to push myself out to the dorm. Stitches be damned. When the bell rang, I set about doing just that. I took my arm out of the sling and put my hands on the wheels. It hurt a little and felt awkward, but I reversed myself and managed to turn toward the door.

"¿Sarah, no necesita ayuda?" Prof. Nunez asked.

I shook my head resolutely though my left arm shook as I pushed myself toward the door.

Prof. Nunez appeared ready to argue with me, but if she was going to do it in Spanish, the argument was going to be very one-sided. Damien was the one who knew Spanish. Not me. And the thought of him had my grip tightening and my movements growing a little stronger.

"Whoa there, Evel Knievel. Where you headed?"

I looked at the doorway and frowned at Noah Nash. What was he doing here? I didn't answer but kept propelling myself forward.

"Sarah, let me help you," he said, coming toward me.

I shook my head. "I can do this myself." My voice came out a little breathy, and sweat had already started to pop up on my forehead, but I could do this. My shear irritation with Damien would give me the strength.

"Hey, have lunch with me?" he said.

I directed a bit of my irritation at him. "No. Now move."

"Where's Damien?"

My hands slipped on the wheels, and I let out an irritated breath. "That's what I'm going to find out."

"Let me help you."

I was panting and exhausted already and I was still in the classroom. I had to face facts. I wasn't going to make it anywhere without help. I glared up at Noah. Damien didn't like him. I didn't know why, but he really didn't like him. I didn't like Damien very much at the moment. I decided that he'd be perfect to take with me.

I put my left arm back in the sling and nodded. "Fine. Take me to West dorm."

Noah nodded in relief and slipped behind the wheelchair. "As my lady wishes."

I didn't comment on his gallant words. I was mentally rehearsing the things I'd yell at Damien.

Noah wheeled me through the hallways smoothly. I kept my eyes forward and didn't pay attention to anyone we passed. It didn't matter. They stared at me anyway. And why not? I was the girl who got stabbed. Worse even, I was the servant girl who got stabbed. I was a freak to gawk at. Well, let them gawk. I had a demon to exorcise.

Noah pushed me into the dorm and over to the elevator. He called it for me. I realized I'd have to tell him Damien's code. It didn't matter. I'd already assumed Damien would be changing it very soon anyway. When we got in the car, Noah's hand hovered over the keypad. "4783," I said.

He punched it in with a nod.

"So you don't know why Damien didn't come to class today?" he asked as the elevator began to rise.

"Nope, but he said last night that he'd help me get from class to class." The last part was said through gritted teeth.

Noah nodded in acknowledgment. The elevator doors slid open. I immediately scanned the public area, but there was no sign of Damien. "Push me to his bedroom," I said, not caring that I was ordering Noah Nash around.

He didn't protest. He pushed me to the closed bedroom door.

When we reached it, we stopped. "Sarah, you might not want to go in there," he said.

I frowned in confusion. "I've been in there before. Open the door."

Noah sighed and slipped by me to open the door. He took a step in and scanned it first. I glowered at him. "Is he in there?" I demanded.

He shook his head and came back out. Even though I was sure Damien would've made himself known if he were there, I still found myself leaning forward to peer inside. "He appears to have gone away," Noah said.

"Gone where?" I wondered.

Without the promise of Damien to yell at, my anger began to deflate and my energy began to plummet.

"Let's go get some lunch," Noah offered.

I looked around the empty apartment. I could wait for Damien to return and demand some answers, but that was approaching stalker levels of insanity. I shouldn't be here in his place when he wasn't here. He'd entrusted me with his code, and I was just proving why he shouldn't have. I rubbed my forehead. I was getting a headache. "Yeah, let's go to lunch."

I'd been in the cafeteria plenty of times, but never when it was full of students. It had a high ceiling with large medieval looking iron and glass chandeliers hanging down. They'd always seemed more appropriate to a cathedral to me. Long tables were arranged in half circles with a central line of tables bisecting it. The formation vaguely reminded me of a rib cage. The line of tables in the center were reserved for seniors. The lower classes were scattered around the room at the other tables. The faculty ate in a special reserved room off the main dining area. The servants ate out of brown paper bags.

There was a board on a stand as we went in that Noah paused at. It had the day's menu on it. Lasagna or curry were the main choices. There was also a panini station that students could have any panini they wanted made.

"Would you like me to bring you your lunch?" Noah asked.

"Thank you. I'd like the lasagna," I said.

He parked me at an empty table by the wall and went to grab our lunches.

"Sarah!"

I groaned at the sound of the high female voice. I didn't have the energy to deal with Angela. My head was beginning to pound. After I ate, I wanted to go back to the apartment to rest. I didn't think I could manage the rest of my classes.

Angela slid into the chair across from me.

"How are you?" she asked.

I was rubbing my forehead again. "Fading fast," I said truthfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How's Damien?"

So she didn't know where Damien was either. It didn't surprise me. I shrugged. "I don't know. He wasn't in class today."

Her eyes grew round. "He wasn't? Where is he?"

I shrugged again.

I didn't have the energy to be upset anymore. Wherever Damien was, it wasn't here. I'd come to accept that. He had more important things to do than chauffeur me around school. It'd been ludicrous to think he would do it. It had been a joking offer. Him chauffeur me? What was it opposite day?

Angela's eyes focused past me. "Oh, hello." My eyebrows rose at her chilly greeting.

"Angela, good to see you," Noah said, his greeting friendlier than hers. He slid my tray in front of me.

"Thanks," I said. My back stiffened when he sat down beside me. Maybe if Angela weren't here, he would've sat across from me. I just hoped no one made anything of him sitting by me.

Noah, though, seemed unconcerned. He placed his cloth napkin in his lap and began eating. I cautiously did the same. I realized Angela didn't have a tray with her. "Have you eaten already?" I asked.

She waved a hand dismissively. "I had a salad."

She must have eaten very quickly. We hadn't spent much time in Damien's suite. Lunch was only half over.

"Have you tried calling Damien?" I asked, taking a bite of my meal.

Angela frowned and dug out her cell phone. I watched her call Damien while eating. The phone rang for a while and must have switched over to voice mail. "Damien, where are you? We're all worried. Call me or Sarah, okay?"

I raised an eyebrow at her including me as an option. And I wouldn't say I was worried.

"He probably had to go home for something. He's fine," Noah said.

Angela put her cell phone away with a frown. "You know those two statements are completely contradictory," she said.

I chewed on my bite contemplatively. I still didn't know anything definite about Damien's relationship with his family, but I remembered his comment about his mother's rehab and that text I'd read over his shoulder. It could've been a parent asking him to come home I realized. Maybe something had happened. A sliver of guilt jabbed my stomach. What if Damien had been called away for a family emergency? I moved the lasagna around on my plate not feeling very hungry anymore.

"So how have you been, Ang?" Noah asked.

I glanced at both of them. They knew each other?

"I've been well. Thank you," she said primly.

She turned to me, and I could tell she didn't approve of Noah sitting by me and having lunch with us. Well, tough, I thought. He was there when I needed someone and had been pretty decent to me so far. I still didn't understand why he was interested in me, but it had something to do with Damien.

"How's the singing career going?" Noah asked, clearly unwilling to be excluded.

I was learning all sorts of things today.

"You sing?" I asked.

Angela ducked her head in embarrassment. "It's just a hobby."

"You're really good. Marc Flisher loved your demo tape."

"You made a demo tape?" I asked, my voice rising in volume. That was more than a hobby.

Angela blew out a frustrated breath. "It wasn't a demo tape, and you shouldn't have given it to him."

"Who's Marc Flisher?"

"One of the top music agents right now. He represents a lot of the biggest pop stars."

I put my fork down and leaned toward Angela. "You have an agent?"

Angela sat back and crossed her arms. "No, I don't. I didn't sign the contract. And I don't want to talk about it anymore."

I glanced over at Noah. He was looking at Angela contemplatively.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Why not what? I don't want to be some pop star or whatever. I like to sing for fun. That's all. Drop it."

She seemed very serious about not wanting to talk anymore about her singing.

"I like to draw," I said.

Angela's face brightened. "You do?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm not great, but I enjoy it. You have any hobbies, Noah?" I looked over at him as I took another bite.

He'd just taken a bite himself and chewed a moment before answering. "Not really," he said around his food.

My cell phone buzzed. Everyone heard it and watched me pull it out to look at it.

*I'll be back tonight. Sorry.*

"Huh, he even apologized," Noah said, having leaned in to look over my shoulder. I turned the phone away from him with a frown.

"What'd he say?" Angela asked.

Since Noah had gotten to read it, I turned it toward her to see.

"I wonder where he is?" she said.

I didn't know. I moved to put the phone back in my bag.

"You're not going to answer it?" Angela said.

I frowned. "Why? There's nothing to say."

She huffed and pulled out her cell. "We got your message. Thanks," she said as she typed it out on her phone.

I shook my head. Damien didn't deserve a reply, but I very well couldn't stop her from sending one.

"There," she said, making a show of hitting the send button.

Lunch was winding down. The cafeteria was half empty now.

"What's your next class?" Noah asked.

I shook my head. I felt better now that I'd eaten, but still not up to full steam. I really wanted to take a nap. "I'm going to go home and rest."

"That's fine, I'll take you," he said.

Angela opened her mouth to protest, but I was already shaking my head.

"I'll take you," she offered.

I continued shaking my head.

"I'll call my dad to get me." Someone caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It was Mom in her kitchen whites. She stood just in the doorway to the kitchen, watching us. "Or my mom can take me."

"That's your mom?" Angela asked, her voice an octave higher than normal. "She's so cute!"

I frowned. The way she'd said that was usually how someone talked about a puppy or a baby maybe. Not someone's parents.

"Uh, yeah. So I'm in safe hands. Thanks for having lunch with me, guys."

Noah nodded and rose. He grabbed my tray and his. "I'll see you later, Sarah," he said.

See me later? When did he think he'd see me? And where? Angela watched Noah leave with a frown on her face. "You shouldn't talk to him," she said.

"Why?"

She shook her head and grabbed her bag. "You just shouldn't trust him. He's shady. If you get bored, text me."

"Uh, need your number," I said.

"Oh, my God! You don't have it? Here, let me put it in your phone."

I handed it to her and she passed me hers. "Give me your number, too."

I did as instructed, wondering if this was a good idea. I hoped Angela wasn't a mega-texter. Sometimes it was nice NOT to hear from people. We gave back each other's phones, and with a wave, Angela headed to class.

Now that they were gone, Mom came across the dining hall to me.

"Damien never showed up?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Nope. I think he had to go home for something."

She took hold of my wheelchair and pulled me out from behind the table. "I hope everything's all right."

I didn't know, but I didn't think it could be too bad, after all the news would've told us if something had happened to a West.

"I don't feel up to going to the rest of my classes. Can I go home?" I asked.

"Of course, dear. I'll take you right now. Who took you from class to class? Was it the girl you were sitting with?"

I shook my head. "That was Angela, Damien's girlfriend."

"That was her? She seems nice." What was unsaid was perfectly clear though. Why was she with him?

"Yeah, she's super nice. But the professors mainly handled shuffling me around, except Prof. Engler seemed really aggrieved to do it."

"Oh, Martha Engler hasn't been the same since her husband left her for his TA."

I had not known that. I really didn't know much about the faculty's personal lives. Faculty lived on the two bottom floors of the building. I'd been on the floors with Dad to collect the recycling on Sundays, but faculty would only say hello as they came and went. Staff and faculty didn't really mingle. I couldn't recall Prof. Engler's husband, but I could understand why she'd be so sour now. It was a shame. She'd been really nice before.

"I saw Noah Nash was eating with you as well."

I knew she'd bring that up. "Yeah, he just showed up at the end of third period and insisted on taking me to lunch." I didn't dare mention our first stop at Damien's suite.

"That's unusual," she said carefully.

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. I don't know why he keeps reaching out to me, except it has something to do with Damien. Damien can't stand him."

"Be careful, Sarah. Those are two very powerful boys. You don't want to end up caught between them."

I could definitely appreciate that, but short of screaming whenever Noah appeared, I didn't know how I was going to get rid of him.

Once we were home, Mom helped me change out of my uniform and into my pajamas. Once I was tucked in bed, I could barely keep my eyes open. I fell asleep immediately and didn't wake up until it was dark outside. I sat up with difficulty and listened for my parents. I could hear the television in the living room.

"Mom?" I called.

Dad was who appeared. "Hey, sleepyhead. How you feeling?"

I grimaced and looked around the room. "Is it time for my pill?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll get it for you. Are you hungry?"

I nodded. With Dad there to steady me, I managed to get into the wheelchair. He pushed me to the kitchen. "Your mother left a dinner in the stove for you," he said, opening the oven to remove it. He set a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and peas before me. He also set a pain pill down with a glass of water.

"Thanks," I said, taking the pill first.

He nodded and sat down at the table with me.

"You don't have to sit with me. Go watch TV," I said.

"I'm not going anywhere. Eat your dinner."

I rolled my eyes and began eating.

"So your mother has been telling me things."

I looked up from my plate. Now I understood why he was still here. I took another bite and didn't respond. I could just imagine what she'd been saying. It was probably very similar to what she'd been telling me.

"Do you like Damien West?"

I choked on the bite that I was chewing. Dad reached over and patted my back to help me.

"Dad! Don't ask me stuff like that!"

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant as a friend."

His clarification made my cheeks warm up. Had that been a trap? Had he tricked me into that? "Yeah, I like him okay as a friend," I said tilting my head down to hide my face, which I was sure, was pink.

"Okay, then. That's good. When I heard Dean Crowe was urging you to be friends with him, I got worried."

"Don't worry."

"You'll never convince me not to and make that double for your mother."

I gave him a sarcastic look. He pointed at the food. I picked up my fork and took another bite.

"What about Noah Nash? Is he a friend?" he asked.

I managed not to choke this time. I shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't know. I can't figure out his angle. He seems to care about Damien, but then again, he seems too concerned, too, like it's a lie, and Damien despises him."

He nodded.

"Have you heard any news about the guy who attacked me?" I asked.

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sure they're doing everything they can."

Uncomfortably, I wondered if my parents had been told what Damien had told me. Did they know he was a Russian hit man? I didn't know how to ask. The house phone rang. Dad got up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, she's here."

"May I say who's calling?"

I quirked an eyebrow. Clearly it was someone calling me, but I didn't know who.

Dad held out the phone to me. "A girl named Jenna is on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?"

I stared at Dad in shock. I numbly reached out and took the cordless.

"Jenna?" I said into it.

"Sarah, is that really you?" the girl asked. Even though Dad had said it was Jenna, I didn't recognize her voice. I pulled the phone from my ear and glanced at the caller ID. "Northridge Care Facility" was displayed on the screen.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing?" I asked.

"I have good and bad days."

I nodded and realized I needed to speak. "Yeah, same here."

"I heard about the attack."

"Did Damien come see you? He didn't upset you, did he?"

Jenna sighed on the other end. "He did come by and he was quite scary."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want him to do that."

"It's okay. I needed to call and tell you though that the person who made me attack you was probably the same person who hired the person who attacked you."

"Yeah, we figured that."

"Well, if it is the same person, then they don't want you dead. I want you to know that."

"Who is it, Jenna?"

"I have to go."

I clutched the phone tighter. "No, wait—If you can't say who it is, then tell me why you're sure they don't want me dead?"

"Because they love Damien."

Her answer didn't make any sense, but before I could question her further, the phone disconnected.

I hit the redial button. When the automated message started, I hit zero to reach an operator. Someone answered after a ring. "Northridge Care Facility. How may I direct your call?"

"I need to speak to Jenna Hannigan."

"I'm sorry. We have no one here by that name."

"I was just speaking to her," I protested.

"I'm sorry, but we do not have anyone here by that name. You must be mistaken."

"She's a patient."

"I'm sorry, but we have no one here by that name."

In frustration, I hung up the phone. She was probably registered under an alias. They wouldn't let me talk to her unless I knew it like some freaking secret code word.

"Sarah?" Dad asked.

He'd stood by and heard my side of the conversation. He must have more questions. I sighed and held out the phone. He took it and put it back in its station.

"Isn't Jenna the name of the girl who was recently expelled?" he asked.

I sighed and hung my head. "Yeah, that was her."

"You were friends with her?" he asked tentatively.

"No, I think she was bullied into attacking me."

"Your black eye," he said, putting the pieces together.

"Yeah, and she may have been expelled because she kicked Damien, but she meant to kick me. He blocked her and security came and took her away."

"And you think Jenna knows who hired the man who attacked you?"

I nodded.

His face turned grim. "Is there anything else you haven't told us?"

I dropped my eyes. I knew I should've told my parents everything from the start, but so much had happened. It had been only a week so far. "No, I don't think so."

He stared at me a moment. He didn't appear to believe me. I didn't know what to tell him to reassure him.

"Wanna play the computer game?" I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

It took a moment, but his face finally broke into a grin. "Sure, let's go beat the dragon."

He wheeled me back to my computer and together we played the game for a couple of hours until my eyes grew heavy and I was yawning constantly. Dad called a halt and helped me into bed. Mom had come home while we played and was in the living room watching television. After he tucked me into bed, he sat on the edge looking down at me. I felt like I was six years old again looking up at him. He reached out and stroked my hair.

"Hey, do you want to keep going to Noble?"

His question roused me. I blinked and focused on him. "Where else would I go?" I asked.

He hung his hands between his knees and looked across the room, away from me. "If you wanted to go somewhere else, we'd figure out a way to do it. You don't have to stay here. Do you want to go to another school?"

If he'd asked me this before I started school, I would've said yes. If he'd asked me after only the first day of classes, I would've said yes. The second day, too. Probably even the third, but now I couldn't say yes. I didn't want to leave. I shook my head. "No, I want to keep going. I want to see this through."

He nodded, but he looked at me contemplatively.

"Everything will be all right," I said.

He smiled. "Hey, that's my line," he joked.

I smiled back. "Sweet dreams, kiddo."

His smile widened. "Good night, Dad."

He got up and shut off the lights. I closed my eyes. Everything would be all right. I'd get better, Damien would come back from wherever he'd gone, and we'd take it one day at a time.

Wednesday, Day 10

I got up at my regular time and was able to dress myself partially on my own. Mom hovered and helped. It was a little annoying because we bumped into each other constantly, but I was glad to do whatever little things I could myself. I wanted to go to class again, but the idea of begging for help getting from one class to the next put me off the idea. I, especially, didn't want to impose of Prof. Engler again. This time she might just abandon me in the middle of the hall halfway to class.

My cell phone announced a new text message. I felt a zing when I heard the little chime. I was sure it was Damien. My heart deflated when I saw it was from Angela. *Good morning! Do you need help to class?*

I debated how to answer her. I appreciated the offer and would rather she push me than Dad, but what about after class? I couldn't expect her to be my chauffeur the whole day. We had none of the same classes except gym. She'd be running all over school getting me from one class to the next and then getting to her own. I looked at Mom and Dad at the table chatting over breakfast. I really didn't want to stay home. Sighing, I typed in a reply. *Good morning to you, too. Yes, I'd love some help. Thank you!* I sent the message and figured that I'd play the rest of the day by ear.

Her reply was prompt. *Great! I'll be there in ten minutes.*

"Who was that?" Mom asked.

I could tell she was suspicious. I sighed and thought about just handing her the phone so she could read it herself. "Angela. She's offered to take me to my first class."

"That's nice of her," Dad said.

Mom nodded, but I think she was just glad that it wasn't one of the boys texting me.

When we finished up, Dad took me downstairs. We went outside to find Angela waiting, but she wasn't alone. Damien was there, too. He had his arms crossed and looked unhappy. I didn't know what he had to be upset about. I was the one who was left stranded yesterday. That reminded me. I owed him some yelling. Angela waved and stepped forward.

"Good morning!" she said.

Her cheerfulness made me smile. "Good morning, thanks for offering to take me to class," I said.

Dad and she switched places. Damien stayed where he was, glowering.

"Damien," Dad said, clearly recognizing his foul mood and wasn't cowed by it. "We missed you yesterday." And he wasn't about to let Damien off the hook easily. He'd made the promise to escort me in front of both of my parents and then hadn't shown up and hadn't sent a text until lunch time to even indicate he wasn't around.

"Mr. Smith, good morning," he said stiffly.

"Where were you yesterday?" he asked. He clearly expected an answer.

Damien's brow furrowed. He seemed annoyed to be asked. "I had to go home for an event," he muttered.

"Sarah expected you."

I was getting uncomfortable now. I looked at Dad, silently urging him to let it go, but he wasn't going to let this slide.

Damien swallowed. He looked at me, and his eyes were intense. He wasn't annoyed. He appeared upset.

"We should get going if we don't want to be late," Angela said gently.

Dad nodded and waved to us. "Yeah, I need to get to work as well. Have a good day, Sarah. Let me know if you need anything."

I nodded and waved back. Angela started pushing me toward the back entrance while Dad cut across toward the side doors to the gym. Damien trailed behind us.

"Do you want to have lunch together again?" Angela asked brightly.

"Of course," I replied.

"I'll come by Prof. Nuñez's room to get you," she said.

My eyebrows rose at that. Why should she come get me if Damien was there? I waited for Damien to speak up, but he stayed silent. He was walking too far back for me to see him. I'd have to twist my body around to look at him, and my back wasn't ready for that.

"Thanks," I said finally.

Angela brought me to Prof. Edward's classroom and took me in. Damien had still not said anything. I wasn't even sure if he was still with us, but when Angela parked me at my desk, he came up behind her and took his seat. I looked at him perplexed by his actions. I turned to Angela for some answers, but she merely smiled back at me.

"I'll be here as soon as I can when the bell rings."

I opened my mouth to finally protest that Damien could push me to our next class, but she'd already turned and hurried out of the room to get to her class.

I turned to Damien. "What's going on?"

He already had his cell phone out and was tapping away at it. He didn't look up from the small screen.

"Damien?" I said louder to get his attention.

He still didn't look up.

"Damien, answer me." I put my hand over the screen.

"Do you mind?" he said with a touch of irritation and shook my hand off.

Why was I getting the cold shoulder treatment? I was the one who was abandoned yesterday. I was the one in the wheelchair. I frowned and got my notebook and pen out.

Prof. Edward came in and began class. I focused on his lecture and ignored Damien. He continued to tap away at his phone. I was tempted to take a peek but refrained. If he was in a bad mood, I really didn't want him taking it out on me. I was in no position to deal with it.

We were halfway through class when my phone buzzed. I dug it out wondering why Angela was texting me. I discreetly turned it on and read the text. It was from an unknown number. *We're being watched.* I looked over at Damien, but his eyes didn't waver from his cell phone.

Keeping a wary eye on Prof. Edward, I texted back, *By who?*

If it was Damien sending me the text, his phone didn't indicate a new message, but then again, he'd been sending texts for the last twenty minutes and I hadn't heard anything to indicate he'd received any messages.

*By WHOM. Did you flunk English?* I glanced surreptitiously at Damien. So it was him. I took a better look at his cell phone. It looked like the one he always had, but he might have a hundred of them.

*You haven't answered my question.*

*It doesn't matter. We have to be careful.*

I sighed in irritation. *If it doesn't matter, then why do we need to be careful? Careful about what?*

I waited five minutes. A reply from Damien didn't come. I shook my head and refocused on my notes. It was ten minutes before class ended when my phone buzzed in my lap. I didn't reach down to read the text. If he was going to take his time to respond to me, then I could ignore him a bit as well. I thought I saw him glance at me when I didn't read his text, but I was still willfully ignoring him. The bell rang and I still hadn't checked my phone. Angela slipped in seconds later and came over. Damien got up and left without as much as a farewell.

"Hey, ready?" she asked.

I nodded, having stowed my notebook and pen already.

She took control of my wheelchair and pushed me out.

"Do you know what's up with Damien?" I asked.

She let out a long sigh. "He had to go see his dad."

"Yeah, so?" I asked. Damien's father was one of the most powerful men in the world, but I didn't know what that had to do with Damien being weird. I really didn't know much about Vincent West. He'd been named "Man of the Year" by Time Magazine but that didn't mean I'd read the article.

"Damien doesn't like his father."

"That's not surprising or unusual," I said.

"And I don't think his father likes him either."

"Well, Damien makes that easy."

I finally lifted my cell phone and turned it on to read Damien's last message. *Just ignore me and it'll be all right.*

I frowned down at my cell phone and turned it off completely. I was annoyed that I'd unwittingly done exactly what he asked.

"Here we are," Angela announced as she pushed me into Prof. Engler's classroom. Damien was already slouched in his seat. He didn't budge an inch or even glance at us as she navigated me around him to my desk.

"Thanks, Angela. You've been a lifesaver," I said, giving Damien a pointed glance as I said it. He didn't appear to hear me at all.

She smiled, unfazed by my silent irritation at her boyfriend. "No problem at all. I'll see you in an hour."

I smiled back and watched her hurry from the room.

I glanced over at Damien, but he'd angled himself away from me. I shook my head and took out my copy of the Canterbury Tales. A short paper was due today. I didn't have the paper ready, but I was supposed to have extensions for all of my school work, Dr. Chang had said so. Damien had nothing with him either. I wondered if his status as a West exempted him from homework.

"Did you write the paper?" I asked.

Damien showed no indication he'd heard me, but I'd said it loud enough where he had to. He seemed to be taking this whole ignoring each other thing very seriously. Fine, I could play this game, too, and I would win.

Prof. Engler came in and immediately asked everyone to hand in their papers. One of the guys sitting in front of us turned around a little unsure and caught my eye. I shook my head to indicate we had nothing to hand up. Once all the papers were collected, Prof. Engler announced there would be a pop quiz. A collective groan sounded in the room. I sat up straighter, unsure if my injury exempted me from the quiz or not. I was behind in the reading. Maybe I should've focused on schoolwork rather than playing on the computer with Dad yesterday. The quizzes were passed back and the guy again turned around with two copies of the quiz, unsure whether to hand them to us. I reached out and took them.

I put one on Damien's desk to no reaction from him.

I looked at the quiz and saw that most of it covered stories I hadn't read yet.

"All cell phones should be put away," Prof. Engler said sternly from the front of the room.

Her comment was for Damien. Everyone else was focused on the quiz. He sighed and pocketed his phone. He picked up the quiz and began reading over it. I debated whether I should attempt to take the quiz or ask Prof. Engler if I were exempt. I had no idea how to answer most of it. It seemed like it'd be a waste of time. I raised my hand.

"What is, Sarah?" she asked.

"Should I take the quiz or come take it at a later date?" I asked.

"Just do your best," she said.

I nodded and turned back to the quiz. Damien appeared to be just staring at it now. I slid the pen I'd been holding over to him and turned to get another from my bag.

When I turned back, Damien was hunched over the sheet using the pen I'd given him. I had the strongest urge to look at his paper to see if he was answering the questions or just scribbling gibberish, but that would be easily misconstrued as cheating. I answered the questions as best as I could, but soon I'd exhausted my knowledge. I needed to work hard to catch up.

"Time," Prof. Engler called.

Another collective groan rose across the room.

"Hand your quizzes forward."

Damien slid the quiz over to me and pulled out his phone again. I took a peak and saw he had answered all the questions. While I didn't have any clue what the answers were for some of the questions, the ones I did know looked correct. I handed them to guy in front of us and they were passed forward.

Prof. Engler handed out homework sheets for the next story and let us read quietly for the rest of class. I was grateful for the time. Damien remained glued to his phone.

When the bell sounded, Damien rose without waiting for Angela to appear and left. He didn't look at me once. I knew because I watched him the whole time. He was winning the ignore game. Angela came in a few seconds later. I wondered if maybe she'd spoken to him in the hall.

She gave me another cheery smile and took hold of the wheelchair handles.

"Spanish, right?" she asked.

I nodded.

We were going down the hall when I saw Damien go into the Japanese classroom. As we went by, I saw Damien speaking to Prof. Osaka. What was Damien doing in there?

"Oh, he probably hasn't told you," Angela said.

"Told me what?" I asked.

"He's switching out of Spanish to Japanese."

I remembered his comments from the first day of school when I told him my foreign language was Spanish. He'd wanted me to take Japanese instead. "Oh well, that's probably good. He seems to be pretty fluent in Spanish already."

"Are you upset?" she asked.

I tilted my head back to look at her. Why would she ask me that? She was his girlfriend and they shared no classes together. If I were her, I'd be pretty miffed at my boyfriend for not choosing to take any classes with me when he could choose whatever classes he wanted. "No, I'm not upset," I said, and I wasn't, at least not about him switching classes. I was upset by a whole litany of other things, though: Damien's insistence that we were being watched and thus he couldn't talk to me being on the top of the list. Really, having a few classes without him would make ignoring him easier.

Angela took me into the classroom and with a friendly farewell was gone again. I could count on one hand the number of classes I'd had without Damien. Having one class permanently without him would be quite relaxing, I realized. I got my notebook and pen out and prepared to be attentive and studious, though in the back of my mind, I wondered how lunch would go. Angela and I were eating together, but what would Damien do?

I had a lot of catching up to do in Spanish. I understood only about half the words Prof. Nuñez was using now. I hoped I'd be able to buckle down this weekend. Grandma Cora would be coming, but I hoped to sneak away to the library to do some serious studying.

Angela arrived even quicker at the end of third period. She had to have been close by.

"What class did you just have?" I asked.

Her eyes dropped and she murmured. "Japanese."

My eyebrows rose. "So you have a class with Damien now?"

She nodded.

"Is he sitting with you?" I asked. She didn't seem happy about this and I didn't know why.

She nodded again.

"And that's not good?" I asked tentatively.

Her eyes flew up to meet mine. "Oh no, it's good. I'm glad Damien and I have a class together."

"Then what's the problem?"

She shrugged. "I guess there's no problem. Did you want to have lunch in the cafeteria?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I would. If you do?"

She nodded and came around to pull the wheelchair out. "Yes, I would like that."

I still didn't understand Angela's down spirits. She seemed upset for me that Damien had switched classes. I didn't understand why she'd feel that way. As we went to the cafeteria, I bit my tongue to keep from asking where Damien was. I didn't want to appear too interested.

When we reached the cafeteria, Angela parked me at a table. "What should I get you?" she asked.

"The tomato soup with grilled cheese sounds good and water."

She nodded and went to get our meals.

I'd scanned the cafeteria when we arrived and did not see Damien anywhere. Maybe he'd gone to his suite for lunch. I wondered if he would be changing anymore of his classes.

"How's the back, Smith?"

I looked up in surprise at Andy and Tom. They set their trays down across from me.

"Hey, guys. It's doing better. How are you?"

Their decision to join me was surprising, and it made me wonder if they'd gotten a text message instructing them to eat with me.

"We're fine. Saw you and Ang were eating with Nash yesterday."

My eyes narrowed at this. I didn't appreciate the subtle accusation behind Tom's words. "If you saw us, then you should've joined us," I said.

"Oh, we were done eating by the time you started. Why'd you come so late?"

I really didn't like this interrogation, especially as I felt they'd been fed the questions by the one who really wanted to ask them. "I went looking for Damien. He was supposed to help get me around the school yesterday but didn't show." I couldn't see one of Tom's hands. It was in his lap. I wanted to look under the table to see if there was a phone in his hand transmitting everything I said.

"Yeah, Damien got called home."

"Well, I wish he'd told me. Getting from class to class wasn't easy." I hoped Damien was hearing me loud and clear. I wanted him to feel some guilt.

"Hello Andy and Tom. You're joining us?" Angela said. She slid my tray in front of me and took the seat beside me.

"Hey Ang. Yeah, we thought we'd join you today. Keep the riffraff away."

I doubted Noah Nash had ever been referred to as riffraff before.

"Where's Damien?" she asked.

She'd just had class with him and she didn't know where he had gone? Jeez, that guy could be infuriating.

The two sophomores shrugged. "Don't know."

I couldn't tell if they were lying.

"Are you going to your afternoon classes today?" Angela asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I think I'm up to it. I'm skipping gym obviously, but I should be able to make it through math and Earth Sciences. Will you be able to take me around?"

Angela nodded. "Of course!"

I smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks, Ang. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She ducked her head shyly. "It's no trouble."

"So have you heard anything about your attacker?" Andy asked.

I raised an eyebrow at this question. It didn't seem like one Damien would ask. I didn't know how much information had been released or if Damien was supposed to have told me what he had. I grimaced as I tried to figure out what to say.

"Oh, let's not talk about that! It's so upsetting," Angela said.

I looked over at her in surprise. "No, it's fine with me. I don't know much actually. He was a hired thug, but they don't know by whom or if I was the intended target."

"Well, if you ever need help with some jerks, let us know," Tom said.

The offer made me blink. "Thanks, guys. That's really nice of you."

They nodded in unison. They really weren't bad guys. They might be loyal to Damien, but they weren't really mean. And the offer seemed to come from them, not Damien.

"So do you have plans for this weekend?" Angela asked me.

I sighed. "Library. Just the library. I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Do you want some company?" she asked.

My face brightened. "I'd like that."

Angela smiled back with a nod. She really was a nice girl. Maybe too nice. I still didn't understand her relationship with Damien. The memory of Damien kissing me flashed in my mind, and I suddenly felt guilty and unhappy. Maybe I didn't deserve her niceness. Something must have shown on my face.

"Everything okay, Sarah?" she asked.

I shook my head to clear it. "Yeah, it's fine. Just thinking about all the work I have to do."

It didn't look like she believed my lie, but she let it slide.

Soon it was time to go. Sarah took our trays and Andy and Tom said good bye. I was alone at the table.

"You really should keep your phone on."

My head dropped in frustration. Why did he insist on seeking me out and talking to me? I would be happy to play the ignore game with him.

"I don't know why that matters since you don't have my number," I said.

Noah slid into Angela's vacated seat.

"That's easy enough to fix," he said with a grin.

He reached into my satchel and deftly pulled out my phone. I tried to grab it back, but he stood to get out of my reach.

"Give that back," I demanded.

He held up a finger as he manipulated my phone. I was so annoyed; I considered punching him in the groin. It was in range, but I didn't have special permission to hit Noah Nash. I'd have to try wheedling that out of Dean Crowe the next time I saw him. Noah smiled and handed the phone back to me. "There. Now you have my number, too."

"I can just delete it," I said, snatching the phone back.

He grinned.

"Sarah, what's going on?" Angela asked.

"Noah's being a pain. Can we go now?" I asked.

Noah's grin widened at my words.

Angela pulled me away from the table.

"Bye, Sarah. See you later," he said.

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him, but didn't reply.

Angela didn't say a word.

We left the cafeteria and headed to the East corridor. "You have Prof. Bolkis now, right?" she finally asked.

I nodded. "Yep."

My phone buzzed in my hands. I frowned at it and looked at the new text. *We really do need to talk.* The message was from Noah. I deleted it and switched the phone off again.

Angela delivered me to Prof. Bolkis's class and wonder of wonders, Damien was there. He had his arms crossed unhappily as Angela parked me at my desk. I gave him a look, waiting for some comment, but he merely turned his face away and ignored us.

"Um, I have English now so it'll take me a few minutes to get here when class is over," Angela said.

I nodded. "That's fine. Don't worry about it."

"I'll take her to Earth Sciences," Damien muttered.

We turned to him in surprise.

"What, you're actually willing to help now?" I asked my voice dripping with disdain.

He glared at me and turned to Angela. "I'll take her. Don't worry about it."

Angela looked unsure.

"I'll text you if plans change," I said.

Damien snorted and turned away to ignore us again.

Angela nodded.

After she was gone, I pulled out my notebook, ignoring Damien as hard as he was ignoring me.

Prof. Bolkis came in and scanned the room. Our eyes met and he gave me a brief nod. I nodded back. Class began without incident. I had even more catching up to do in my two afternoon classes as I did with my morning ones, since I hadn't attend them the day before. I was lost as soon as Prof. Bolkis began speaking.

I pulled out my text book to try to get oriented and catch up a little. Damien didn't appear to be paying attention at all. He was playing a game on his phone. I was surprised Prof. Bolkis didn't call him on it and tell him to put the device away. I was trying to work an equation Prof. Bolkis had put on the board and having no luck.

"You missed a step."

I looked over at Damien. He was still staring at his phone, but his comment had clearly been meant for me. I looked over my work and didn't know what step I had missed. I checked the textbook and still didn't see what I'd done wrong. I started again, going slow, following the instructions in the textbook.

I got to the same point with the equation and I'd done nothing different. Maybe Damien was wrong. I kept working. Damien must have been keeping tabs on my work. He sighed and plucked my pencil from my hand.

"Hey," I protested.

He crossed out half my work. "You forgot to cancel this out." He pointed at part of the equation with the pencil. He was right. I had missed it.

"Thanks," I muttered, and took my pencil back. My hand touched his when I did and he jerked it back as if he'd been burned. I raised an eyebrow as I looked at him. He grimaced and turned away again. I continued working and reached the correct answer. Prof. Bolkis put up another equation.

Working beside Damien was distracting. It took all of my focus to ignore him. Before, I had gotten comfortable with him beside me and had been able to ignore him without effort because I knew he'd reach for me or get my attention if he needed it. Now I felt like I had to pretend he wasn't there and I just couldn't. His thumb moving over his phone kept flashing in the corner of my eye. He had a silver ring on it. I wanted to grab his hand and pull it off, but I wasn't allowed to reach for him. Not under these new rules of his. Why I was following them was a mystery to me and I sat back in frustration when I realized I was blindly doing what he said without question.

"Are you tired?" he whispered.

I looked over at him with a frown.

He hadn't turned his head. He still appeared engrossed in his phone. I dug out my own phone and tapped out a text to him. *I'm annoyed. What's with you?*

I couldn't tell when he read my text, but my phone soon buzzed in my hand when he replied. *I told you. We're being watched.*

*So what?* I sent back.

I glanced at the front of the room to see if Prof. Bolkis was watching us. He was facing the board as he went over the correct answer for the equation. My phone buzzed again. *So I don't want you getting into trouble.*

I sighed. I had no idea what he was worried about. Dean Crowe wanted me to interact with Damien. He probably didn't know about that. I thought maybe I should tell him, but I didn't want him to get upset. It could seem like I was being forced to be nice to him. I didn't want him to think that. *I'm a big girl. I can't take care of myself.*

I thought I saw the corners of Damien's mouth twitch.

*Yeah, and you're only getting bigger sitting all day.*

My jaw dropped at the jab.

*Screw you, Damien.*

I sent the text and turned off my phone, not giving him the chance to respond. I turned back to my notebook and Prof. Bolkis's lecture. It was easier now to ignore Damien, knowing that it was probably annoying him. Damien didn't say another word to me. I glanced at him twice to see what he was up to, but he appeared firmly engrossed in his phone. I couldn't help taking a peak at it, but I couldn't read what was on the screen. He was texting someone, not playing a game.

When the bell rang, Damien got up and took hold of the wheelchair. I felt nervous as he pushed me out of the room. We weren't technically alone, but it sort of felt like we were as students anonymously streamed around us. I wanted to say something to him, but didn't know what. I had the feeling that asking him about his trip home would be a sore subject, and I didn't want to talk about Volkov. I could ask him about switching to Japanese, but that seemed sort of inane. We arrived at Earth Sciences without passing a word to each other. My wheelchair was too low to sit at the bench tables, and we were supposed to do a lab today. Without asking, I reached out and grabbed Damien's arm.

He froze and turned to me in shock.

"Keep me steady," I said as I stood up.

"What are you doing?" he asked in alarm.

I thought that was patently obvious as I got up and carefully turned to sit on the stool, but as soon as I was on the stool, I realized that I didn't have my lab notebook or a pen. I pointed at my satchel. "Get my lab book and a pen."

Damien frowned but retrieved the items for me.

"Thanks."

Joshua and Hank arrived. I smiled at them in greeting. They did the same, but their smiles melted away when they saw Damien was watching them.

"Maybe you should work with them," he muttered.

I pursed my lips in displeasure. "And who will you work with?"

He shrugged.

"Sorry, but you're stuck with me. Go get what we need."

I knew I was being bossy ordering Damien around like I was, but he hopped to without question. I suspected that if I said please, it might give him time to think and balk at my requests. He brought the materials back and laid them out. We were supposed to find the specific gravity of various minerals. Damien lined the materials up on the table. The first step was weighing 125ml of each substance. I could've done more than I let on, but I got a perverse pleasure out of watching Damien futz with the scale and the measuring cups. I ordered him through every step. He clenched his jaw a few times at my requests, but when I knocked my pen off the table by accident, he reached down to retrieve it before I said a word.

He straightened and slapped it onto the table.

"Thanks," I said. Guilt beginning to set in.

He didn't respond. He grabbed the lab book from me and read the next step.

Everyone else worked quietly at their tables. My eyes drifted to Hank and Joshua. They were ahead of us in the assignment. They worked well together, splitting the tasks evenly. I was being a bitch. I straightened and slipped my arm out of the sling.

"What are you doing?" Damien demanded.

I held out my hand. "I can help. Hand me the stuff and I'll make the density tube."

He frowned. "I can do it."

"I know, but I can help. You don't have to do everything."

Damien didn't appear to agree.

"Fine. Hand me back the lab book, and I'll do the math to figure out the density for the liquids."

Damien still didn't seem inclined to let me do anything.

I huffed in frustration. Everything was on the other side of the table out of my reach. I lowered myself from the stool. My legs tingled but didn't buckle. I kept a firm hold on the table though.

"Sit back down," Damien said.

I shuffled over to him, amazed at how odd walking felt.

"Let me help."

Damien stepped back. I had access to everything now. I took the containers with the liquids, and with a quick glance at the lab book, poured the syrup into the clear plastic tube. The lab book said to add the water next. I reached for it and my hand shook, making the water slosh. "Dammit," I muttered. I checked the cup. It was no longer 125ml.

"I'll refill it," Damien said. He slipped up against me and reached for the cup. Feeling his side pressed against mine made my hand shake more. I let him take it and ducked my head.

"Thanks," I muttered. I retreated back to my stool and with a little difficulty got back on it. I wasn't as well as I'd thought and being around Damien didn't help. I hoped he took all of my reactions for feebleness.

"You okay, Sarah?" Joshua asked from his table.

I really wished no one else had seen my pathetic display. "I'm fine, just good for nothing still."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up."

"Yeah, you couldn't take it," Damien said. He poured the now 125ml of water into the tube.

My lips twitched at the jab.

"Sheesh, go easy on her," Joshua said.

Damien turned and gave him a frosty glare.

"Hey, it's my fault. I was being stupid."

The boys broke eye contact. Damien poured the oil and then shook the tube. We watched the liquids separate: Oil, water, and syrup at the bottom. It was kind of neat to see. Next we were supposed to pour various things into the tube and see where they settled. Damien poured it the items while I wrote down the results.

After that, working with Damien was surprisingly peaceful. He made sure I saw everything he did and asked me to repeat a few things from the lab book. We were the last table to finish, but we did finish at least, and I was pretty sure we got everything correct. Damien had to clean up everything by himself.

I watched him take items to one of the sinks and rinse them off. After this, my school day would be over. I hadn't arranged with Angela to take me anywhere. I took out my phone and sent her a quick text letting her know that my dad would come get me. Damien saw I had my phone out. "Who are you texting?"

"Angela, to let her know she doesn't need to get me."

He nodded. "I can take you back to your apartment."

"What happened to having to avoid me?"

His jaw clenched, and he gave a little shake of his head.

I didn't question him further. He obviously planned to skip gym. I was sure the rest of the class would appreciate it.

When the bell rang, he came over to my side to help me into my wheelchair. I grabbed onto him unsteadily. My little stunt had really done a number on me. "You should've stayed home longer," he muttered.

"I'm fine," I protested as my hands clamped onto his arms and I swayed.

"Here, I got the wheelchair," Joshua said, having come over and taken the handles. He held it still for me as Damien lowered me down.

"Thanks, guys," I said a little breathlessly.

Damien still frowned. He gave Joshua a clipped nod and moved to take control of the wheelchair.

"Home, Jeeves," I said with a wave of my hand. I was a little giddy. I was due for a nap.

Damien pushed me out and down the hallway. His impenetrable personal bubble held, but students still openly stared at us as we went by. I waved to them like a beauty queen.

I heard Damien huff from behind me. "Stop acting stupid," he said.

"Nope," I replied. My antics were drawing smiles from about a quarter of those staring.

We exited the school on our way to the apartment building. The sidewalk was empty. It seemed safe to speak freely.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked.

Damien's steps slowed. "Why would you ask that?"

I shrugged.

"Don't worry about me."

"Are you going to transfer out of anymore of my classes?"

"Is that what you want?"

It was my turn to frown. I didn't want to answer that question.

"Sarah?"

I still didn't answer.

We reached the apartment building, and I wordlessly held out my card for him to swipe. When he took it, our fingers brushed each other again. I had the overwhelming urge to grab his hand and knead it like he'd done mine. But he'd already turned and swiped the card. The door opened and he pushed me in.

"Is anyone home?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"You should call someone."

"Do you wanna come up?"

"No," he said. He dropped my card into my lap, and I heard the entrance door open and close.

My shoulders slumped. I didn't know what was going on with Damien. I needed guidance. I pulled out my phone and called Noble's main number. When a receptionist answered, I asked for Dean Crowe.

I was patched through to Ms. Wolt.

"Dean Crowe's office. This is Ms. Wolt. How may I help you?"

"Ms. Wolt, this is Sarah Smith. May I speak to Dean Crowe?"

"One moment, Sarah."

I waited on hold. I felt a little vulnerable stuck in the apartment building's lobby, but if I called Mom or Dad to get me, I wouldn't be able to talk to Dean Crowe in private. They'd be in the apartment with me, and I knew if they overheard me, they'd want to know what was going on.

The lobby door opened behind me.

"I'm at the staff quarters now. Ah, there's Sarah." I turned at Dean Crowe's voice.

He took the cell phone from his ear and put it in his pocket. He gave me friendly smile. I was too shocked to form any sort of facial expression.

"Dean Crowe, what are you doing here?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I believe you told Mrs. Wolt that you wished to speak to me?"

"O-over the phone," I stuttered.

"Hmm, I prefer to speak in person. Let's go outside to chat."

I wasn't sure about this, but I very well couldn't refuse the dean. I gave a jerky nod and he smiled at me with good humor.

He came behind me and told hold of the wheelchair handles. I sat stiffly as he pushed me out and down a cracked sidewalk to a sheltered picnic area that had been set up for staff. In summer, we had barbecues and parties out here. With summer over, the area wasn't much used. Dean Crowe parked me by one of the picnic tables under the shelter and slid onto a bench. He clasped his hands before him and gave me another good-humored smile. He looked exactly like he did in his office, but out in this rustic setting, he appeared a touch comical. I wasn't going to laugh though.

"So Sarah, what can I do for you?"

"Damien thinks he's being watched."

The dean nodded. "He is."

"By who-m," I said, correcting my grammar midway.

My grammatical save seemed to amuse the dean. Everything seemed to be amusing him though. I wondered what it would take to make him frown. "Oh, I'm sure Damien is being watched by a great many people. The school, of course, keeps a constant vigilance. It's only prudent with his propensity to cause trouble as well as attract it. And I'm sure his family has some manner of surveillance on him. And then, there's the competition to his family's empire."

I nodded. That all made sense. It was just something I never had to worry about. "Well, someone's worrying him. He doesn't want to hang out with me anymore because of it."

"And he hasn't said who it might be?"

I shook my head. "Could it have something to do with my attack?"

Dean Crowe raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Jenna Hannigan called me yesterday."

"How is the poor girl doing?"

His solicitous question rang false in my ears.

"She thinks my attacker had no intention of killing me."

"And what do you think?"

I thought back to the incident, but it was so confusing and laced with terror that I couldn't glean any new information from it. He had appeared ready to kill me. I shook my head.

"Well, we may never know what your attacker intended. I believe Capt. Timmons is informing your parents right now that the criminal has been found dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"What?" My body went cold. Had Damien known this?

"Investigators are still trying to determine why he attacked you, but with him dead, it does hamper their efforts."

"What about Jenna?"

"She has proven to be quite reticent to give any information."

"No, I mean is she safe? If they could get to a Russian hit man, a high school girl will be no problem."

"I wasn't aware you knew your attacker's nationality," Dean Crowe said.

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He had to know that Damien knew everything and had told me some. Not everything obviously, since I could've really used the info about Volkov being dead.

"Now about Damien, I would recommend letting him come to you. Don't pursue him. It will only make him back away more. I am aware he has transferred out of your Spanish class, but I think on the whole, that will be the only shakeup to his schedule."

I nodded, thinking about Damien's sudden departure when I invited him up to the apartment. I guess I'd been pushing.

My phone rang. Dad was calling. Dean Crowe waved a hand for me to answer.

"Dad?" I said.

"Hey kiddo, where are you?" His voice was full of false cheerfulness.

I looked over at the dean.

He seemed to know what my silent look asked and he shrugged in reply.

"Dean Crowe and I are talking."

"You are?" The cheerfulness left his voice.

"He's told me what happened."

"Oh."

That seemed to sum it up.

"Can you take me up to the apartment?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in a few minutes. Sit tight."

It was a testament to how out of sorts my father was that he didn't pick up on his own pun. I ended the call and turned back to Dean Crowe. "They're on their way. Can you take me back to the lobby?"

"Of course." He rose from the picnic table and pushed me out of the shelter.

As we were on the path back to the lobby entrance, he said, "Sarah, don't let this worry you. We have increased security and your safety is a priority."

I wondered about that though. If my safety was such a concern, why hadn't someone been dispatched to escort me from class-to-class? Why'd I have to rely on professors and friends to get me around the school? But I didn't ask these questions. I knew my only value was what I could do to keep Damien in check.

We arrived back at the apartment building. Dean Crowe swiped us in and a minute later Mom and Dad arrived.

"Everything okay?" Dad asked.

I nodded.

"Well, I'll take my leave. I hope the next time we speak I'll have more enjoyable subjects to discuss with you, Sarah."

I nodded and we watched Dean Crowe exit the building.

"So he told you?" Mom asked.

"Yeah." I looked down at my lap. The fact that a man had died was still surreal to me, and I couldn't comprehend the fact that I had some sort of involvement in it. I knew it wasn't my fault or anything silly like that, but I was connected to the incident.

We went up to the apartment in silence.

Dad parked me in the living room and he and Mom sat on the sofa. The mood was somber. None of us seemed to know where to look. "How was your day at school?" Mom asked.

"It was fine. Angela helped me a lot."

She nodded, but it was clear my answer hadn't registered except as a polite response. We were all shell-shocked. "What did Capt. Timmons tell you?" I asked.

Dad scrubbed his face with his hand. "Only that your assailant appeared to have committed suicide. They're still combing over his records."

I sighed. There was nothing for us to do. We would just have to just trust that security would continue to do their job and protect us.

"He was a bad man," Mom said. She nodded to reassure herself. "He attacked Sarah. He sneaked into the Academy and hurt her. It's good that he's gone."

"Barbara, that's not the right thing to say," Dad protested softly.

"Nothing about this is right. I told you enrolling her in this place was a terrible idea. And the longer she stays here, the worse it will get."

"Where else would I go?" I hadn't been aware that my mother had been so opposed to me going to Noble. She hadn't said anything around me.

"Anywhere would be better than here," she said.

"Noble is a good school. It's one of the best. Some say the best. How many parents can offer their child an opportunity like this?"

Mom got up from the sofa to pace. "It's not a good school. It's a school for the rich. Sarah doesn't belong here."

Hearing her say these things made me shrink back into the wheelchair. I may have thought all of this myself, but I had hoped I was the only one in my family.

"She needs to go somewhere else."

"We can't afford to send her away."

"We do have savings."

"That's her college fund. I will not dip into that."

"College won't matter if she's dead!"

My heart skipped at her exclamation.

Dad's eyes darted to me in alarm. I looked away, squirming in my chair.

"That's enough for now. Let's just take a breather and discuss this later."

Mom looked ready to continue arguing, but her mouth snapped shut when her eyes met mine. Her face fell. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn't have said any of that in front of you."

I shook my head to indicate it was all right, but my stomach was in knots and I was tense all over. "No, you're right. I don't belong at Noble. I should never have gone here."

But like Dad had said, where else would I go? The nearest public high school was over an hour away. Who would take me? Neither of my parents could. The alternative was sending me away to a boarding school. All of them were expensive. I could try to get a need-based scholarship, but all of those application deadlines were long past.

"We'll figure out something, but for now, Sarah will continue attending Noble."

Dad was right. I was stuck at Noble for now. There was no point agonizing over it any further.

"May I go to my room?" I asked.

"Sure, hun." Dad got up and pushed me into my room.

"Do you want to use your computer or lie down?"

"My computer. I need to do schoolwork."

He pushed me over to it. When he stepped back, he let out a heavy sigh. "Sarah, try not to worry about everything. I know that's probably near impossible, but focus on school. Your mom is just upset and lashing out."

"But she said she never wanted me to go to Noble," I said.

He dropped to a crouch beside me to look me in the eye. "She wasn't thrilled with the idea of you attending Noble, but we have limited options. And I think it can be good for you. The teachers here are excellent. You know them. You know the school. And I admit, having you around, seeing you every day, is one of the biggest reasons I wanted you to go here. But your safety trumps all of that." He straightened. "If you'd be safer somewhere else, we'll do it. We'll find a way and do it."

I nodded and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Dad."

He backed out of the room and I turned to my desk. Would I be safer somewhere else? Did I want to leave? I didn't know. I opened my history book and began reading. Before starting Noble, all I'd wanted to do was survive the school, but I'd assumed surviving only meant passing all of my classes. I never thought I'd have to worry about my literal survival. 
Thank you for reading My Demon Volume 1!

The complete run of My Demon will be released in three volumes.

Volume 2 is available now.

Volume 3 will be published April 15, 2016.

To find out more, you're welcome to check out my website.

If you are interested in my other work, check out my free ebook Scary Mary, the first book in the Scary Mary Series. It's about a high school girl who hears ghosts.

