"What?"

"Read."

The yellow paper was crinkled and ripped, as though it had been pa.s.sed quickly through a lot of hands. I smoothed it out on my knee.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.

Be in the cafeteria at 7:35 a.m. on Thursday, September 14 for an EXTREMELY important announcement that will ROCK your world and shake the very FOUNDATIONS of the PEAKS HIGH COMMUNITY. It seems that a SCANDAL has been going on right under our very NOSES. SOME people may think that they know certain OTHER people at this school but they are WRONG.

They don't know them at ALL. SO BE THERE b.i.t.c.hEZ.

#FINDOUTFIRST!!.

#KNOWLEDGEISPOWER!!!.

"What the h.e.l.l is all this?"

Ellen was still gulping for air. "No one knows, but the rumor is that it has something to do with someone on the football team."

"So?"

Ellen grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. "Last night I went over to Jim's house," she hissed. "He told me that he dumped Amanda. He's not taking her to the dance anymore!"

"That's awesome! So did he ask you?"

She rolled her eyes and held her hand to her pounding chest. "I think he was about to. He said that there was something important that he had to tell me. I mean, not that I forgive him yet for not standing up for me at that stupid party, but..."

"Yeah, you definitely need to make him work for it."

She shook her head. "I don't know. This has Amanda written all over it, but everyone's heard about Jim and me by now. So what's the big news?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. I guess we'll find out in a " I checked my cell phone " a three minutes."

She tugged my wrist, pulling us through the crowd that was converging on the cafeteria. I even saw some teachers join in the little pilgrimage. They looked more apprehensive than the students. Princ.i.p.al Davis was standing to the side, in a heated discussion with a couple of his admins.

I looked around for Arbor, but I didn't see him. Maybe he wasn't here yet. Or maybe it was going to be one of his mysterious absent days. A lot of people were on their phones, texting friends that hadn't gotten to school early, telling them to hurry in.

The buzz reached a crescendo at 7:34.

Ellen whispered, "I'm so nervous, and I don't know why." She was standing stock still amidst all the activity, flier crumpled in her fist.

I leaned in to whisper a reply, but I was cut off by the crackle of the loudspeaker.

The crowd hushed. I glanced over at Princ.i.p.al Davis, who looked apoplectic. He sent one of the admins scurrying down to the main office. There was the m.u.f.fled hint of voices, and then the sound of a b.u.t.ton being pressed on an old-school tape deck.

Tinny music blared through the speakers, and at the same time all of the closed-circuit TVs in the cafeteria flashed on. It was Diana Ross.

I'm coming out...

A giant rainbow swirled in unison on each of the screens, dissolving into a picture of two shirtless guys kissing in what looked like the fieldhouse locker rooms. The crowd gasped. Jim Holness and George Farmer! My hand flew up to my face. Oh my G.o.d. Talk about max tongue!

I want the world to know.

The image changed. In the next shot, Jim had turned toward the camera, a confused look on his face.

Got to let it show.

I glanced over at Ellen, expecting to see some mixture of rage and hurt on her face. Instead, the corners of her mouth were twitched up. She looked as though she'd just had a major epiphany. "So that's why he didn't want to date me," she sighed. "He's gay. Thank G.o.d!" Her face brightened into a full smile.

"Not an excuse for s.h.i.tty behavior," I said.

"Don't even care right now. I just want to go over there and give him a big hug."

She pointed to where the football players were standing in a knot, under one of the TVs. The picture on the screen had dissolved again, revealing another one in which Jim looked angry and George, worried. The cycle started over.

I caught sight of Amanda. She was standing to the side, a triumphant smirk on her face.

And the music stopped.

The crowd was now louder than it had been before the "important announcement." People were whooping and jeering. Some of them threw stuff at the group of football players. Trash and pieces of overripe fruit they'd dug hastily out of their lunch bags.

George Farmer burst out of the tight circle and climbed up on a table, dodging a couple bananas. A peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich hit him in the chest, went splat and slid slowly down his shirt. He held up his hands for silence.

"Quiet down, quiet down."

The crowd hushed. But it was definitely a hostile silence.

"This isn't what it looks like," said George. His face was stony, but the rainbows kept swirling into photographic evidence above his head. "I swear!"

Some people laughed. Others yelled awful F-words. f.a.ggot. Fairy. Fruit. They punctuated the last one with more food. George flinched as though the oranges were rocks. He caught one out of the air and reflexively held it to his side, covering it with both hands, like a football.

"I'm not really gay," he said. His voice wavered, like he wasn't sure he meant it. I saw him glance over to the stairwell doors, where Quentin Pryce was standing. Quentin gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.

Someone booed. Loudly, like a baying animal.

"It's just..." George bit his lip. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them he looked determined. "Ah, screw it. Jim, will you go to the Homecoming dance with me?"

The crowd parted, and Jim Holness stood alone. He looked beaten. He glared up at George with hate in his eyes.

"No."

Then he turned on his heel and crashed through the doors to the fieldhouse, leaving George up on the table, utterly vulnerable. The booing resumed. George's shoulders slumped. Ellen ran after Jim. The admin came scurrying back in her high heels, tape deck in her hand, gesturing wildly. Princ.i.p.al Davis's head looked like it was about to explode. He turned to the student body and was about to start calling for order when another voice broke through.

"George?"

Students were standing aside, ushering someone to the front of the room. Someone tall, with dark hair.

Arbor.

George glanced up, puzzled frown on his face. Arbor climbed slowly and deliberately onto the table. "Hey George," he said, voice casual but raised so that all could hear. "Would you consider going to the Homecoming dance with me?"

The crowd was stunned into silence. There was some nervous laughter, and another wave of whispering.

George's mouth fell open. Then he grinned. "Sure!" He held up his hand and Arbor high-fived it. "Definitely, man. That would be awesome."

"I'll pick you up at eight," said Arbor. Then he grabbed George's hand and they both hopped down from the table together.

My heart melted.

The fact that George was popular and on the football team meant that all the status-seeking little peons had jumped at the chance to mock him. But they had no idea how to react when Arbor, one of the trendiest kids in school, decided to stand by him. Like dumb sheep, waiting for the dogs to nip at their heels and tell them which direction to go. They talked amongst themselves and dispersed when Princ.i.p.al Davis finally got his hands on a microphone and told us all to go to cla.s.s already, for the love of Pete, or we'd all get tardies, mark his words, all three hundred of us.

It was already five minutes into first period.

No one could concentrate in Latin, of course. Quentin briefly and sternly let us know that there would be no h.o.m.ophobic bullying in his cla.s.sroom. It was definitely on the horizon. George was no dummy; he could see it. But at least, thanks to Arbor, he probably wouldn't get beaten up in the student parking lot after school.

Quentin wisely pa.s.sed out a worksheet for us to complete, rather than expecting us to absorb any new material. I leaned over mine, words swimming before my eyes, acutely aware of the presence behind me. My pulse leapt as I thought about Arbor. I wondered if he was staring into the back of my head. Or looking a little bit up, and to the right.

I've never been more confused in my life.

And now that I was calming down a now that I'd seen him again, and seen him do something so n.o.ble a I slid the camera out of my pocket and took another look at that picture.

I held it under my desk, squinting.

There was something wrong.

Why didn't I notice it before? Busy panicking, I guess...

Not that I could explain why Arbor's face was floating in mid-air above my windowsill. The tree is at least five feet away from the window. He couldn't have used a ladder and packed it up that quickly. And besides, if he were trying to get into my room, the camera wouldn't have flashed when the window slammed shut. It would have captured Arbor with his leg over the sill, or something. While the window was still open.

I got chills.

What the h.e.l.l is going on here? Because the rules of physics are being broken, and I don't know why.

But in my heart I did know. I knew that there was something unnatural about Arbor, something different. But... did I say unnatural? No. No, that's not quite right. He was a living, breathing thing. I knew that. I'd felt his heartbeat, heard him mutter and stumble over words. Felt his warmth. Seen him eat. Seen him go to the bathroom. (I mean. I'd seen him enter the boy's bathroom. I can't literally swear that urination ever occurred, but... oh dear. Evi, Evi. Stop it.) But that outdated speech of his that he sometimes lapsed into, the odd comments that trailed off, as if he'd said too much... Ellen and I had made fun of the vampire idea before, but my skin p.r.i.c.kled at the realization that clearly, Arbor was not a normal teenager.

The word was not unnatural. It was supernatural.

"Shut up, Evi," I grumbled to myself. G.o.d, my stupid flights of fancy really get me into trouble. This isn't a freaking teen movie. This is my life. I'm obviously just going to ask him about it, and he's going to give me some c.r.a.ptastic excuse about a trampoline or a improbably buoyant helium balloon or his ridiculous, Amazing Spider-Man-like wall climbing skills.

Right? People do that parkour stuff. That's totally what it was. So we're back to Arbor being a creepy pervert.

Somehow that familiar thought comforted me. Unfortunately it just wasn't very convincing anymore.

The bell rang for the end of cla.s.s. Arbor stood up to walk past me, and I grabbed his shirt, leading him out the door and around the corner to a quiet section of the hallway. I gave George a pointed smile as I did so, and he smiled back at me. I also saw that freshman girl and her friend shaking their heads. a.s.sholes. Anyway.

"What you did for George this morning was awesome and gave me a serious case of the warm fuzzies. It was possibly the best, most selfless thing I've ever seen one human do for another."

I glared at him with a stern expression. He seemed taken aback, but allowed himself to be dominated by my physicality. We were up against a wall again. Oh, Lord.

"Possibly?" he asked.

I held up the camera, and zoomed the picture in so that his face was clearly visible where a face shouldn't a wouldn't, couldn't a be.

"I'm just not sure if you are human."

I let his shirt go, shoving him back. "From now on, stay away from my window and stay out of my room." Then I kissed him on the cheek.

"See you at the dance."

I may be the world's biggest idiot.

Chapter Ten.

Friday morning. I tramped downstairs to find my sister completely decked out in blue and white a mostly old clothes from when she'd run cross-country in high school. She'd just come in from an early-morning trip to the grocery store, and I saw her pull a package of face paint out of the bag, along with a large PHS foam finger.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said.

I was wearing black. Well, black and a little neon green. And a little neon pink, who are we kidding. But not school colors. Nosiree.

"I placed a bet of twenty-five dollars on the Minutemen to win this Homecoming game," she said. "And I can think of no more productive way to spend my day off than to spread school spirit around town, whipping up fan support to frenzy levels and thereby potentially earning a return on my investment."

"So you're going to the game, then?"

"Yes," she blinked. "And you're coming with me."

I snorted. "I've never gone to a football game in my life. I'm not about to start now."

Callie growled. "Why must I be the only sports fan in this family?" She shook her head. "Seriously, it's the worst. But, upside, since I'm now officially the head of the household I can order you to go with me." She pulled a couple of tickets out of her purse. "And I got us fantastic seats."

I demonstrated my objection to her plan with all the usual a rolling my eyes, sighing heavily, lurching over to the counter to get my cereal bowl as though I were an undead zombie.

"Nothing left to live for, huh?" she asked, wryly.

"I refuse to cheer."

"Deal."

I snorted again. Deal. Right. Some deal. Maybe I could rope Ellen into coming, though. I tilted my head, crunching my Kix and contemplating. We could make fun of Amanda's silly cheerleader routines. That's a good reason to attend a football game, right?

"Nope," said Ellen when I asked her about it on the way to our lockers.