“Morning.” Ethan finally emerged from the bedroom, sleepyeyed with his hair sticking up in every direction. He was the only person I knew who could make disheveled look sexy.

“Good morning.” My eyes drifted to the bit of bare stomach that was exposed as he stretched his arms over his head.

“What? Do I have something on me?” He looked down, trying to figure out what I was staring at.

“No, it’s just you. I’m admiring you.” I smiled and took another spoonful of cereal.

His face lit up. “Admire all you want.” He kissed the top of my head before heading into the bathroom. Ethan got ready quicker than anyone I knew. I had about two minutes before he’d be rushing me out the door. I cleared my dishes and grabbed a protein bar for Ethan. He ate one every morning.

Someone had moved the rock back in place during the night. That, or the peeping Tom had tripped over it and knocked it back in place. Either way, we had to step over the rocks to get to the car. The drive to school wasn’t long at all. There were about ten schools in the area. Who knew a resort town would have so many local residents? The high school was huge. I had no doubt I’d get lost. We pulled into the parking spot Ethan had secured for us.

He squeezed my hand. “So we have to find the guidance office first. They’ll have our schedules. And then—”

“We’re split up and thrown to the wolves?”

“It won’t be that bad. So, we might not be in the same classes. It’s only school. We’ll be together at work and at home.”

“I know.” I was acting clingy again, and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t me. But I was nervous. It had been more than twenty-four hours since I’d killed Herman. What if that feeling came over me again at school? I didn’t want to kill anyone.

The guidance office was nestled in the middle of the school. The security or hall monitor, whatever he was called, brought us there. A little old lady who reminded me of my grandmother was sitting at the desk when we walked in.

“Can I help you?” She smiled at us, which threw me. Most people who worked in the school offices back home hated when they had to interact with the students, but this woman seemed happy to have someone to talk to.

“Hi, I’m Ethan Jones, and this is Samantha Smith. We’re transfer students.”

The woman—Mrs. Melrose, according to the nameplate on her desk—nodded and began flipping through some files. “Yes, I have your schedules right here. What a coincidence that you arrived together.”

Ethan and I forced smiles on our faces. How did we explain how we knew each other? I was supposed to be from Phoenix, and Ethan was supposed to be from Florida. It didn’t really make sense.

“We sort of bumped into each other in the parking lot. He looked as lost as I did,” I said, thinking on my feet.

Ethan nudged me with his foot, and the slightest smile crossed his lips. “I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to meet a pretty girl on my first day.” He winked at Mrs. Melrose. I think she misunderstood what he was saying, because I swear she started blushing. Yuck! She was well past the “cougar” label.

“Well, if you need anything, feel free to stop in the guidance office anytime.” She handed us our schedules.

We muttered “thank you” as we studied our schedules. It was worse than I’d thought. I was in all middle-level classes, which wasn’t bad, but Ethan’s schedule was packed with honors courses. He’d always done well in school, but he’d only taken honors history. The guy watched way too much of The History Channel. I wondered how he’d manage with such a tough schedule.

“At least we have lunch together,” he said, trying to make the best of the situation.

We managed to find our lockers. Ethan’s was at the opposite end of the hall from mine, which meant I probably wouldn’t even be able to catch a glimpse of him between classes with the crowded hallways.

He walked me to my locker and kissed me goodbye. “Good luck. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Hours. Lunch was hours away. I gave him my best fake smile and opened my locker. I realized I didn’t have any books yet, and I hadn’t worn a coat to school, so there was really nothing to put in my locker. I slammed it shut and looked for room 213, English literature with Mr. Ryan. I hoped we wouldn’t be studying Middle English. It was a different language and way too difficult to read.

When I got to the door, I wasn’t sure if I should walk in or knock. I could see Mr. Ryan sitting on the edge of his desk and reading from a book. I didn’t want to interrupt him, so I opened the door and quietly crept inside. I recognized the book, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I’d read it sophomore year. At least I knew I’d do well on my first exam. Mr. Ryan’s reading was full of emotion, nothing like the way Mrs. Belfry read aloud to us back home.

No one even noticed me standing in the doorway. They were all into Mr. Ryan’s reading. I saw a few girls practically drooling and realized it might not just be Mr. Ryan’s voice that had them so mesmerized. He was young with dark, almost black hair, like mine. Even though he was sitting I could tell he was tall and in great shape. Yes, I might like English lit this year. Not that I had a crush on Mr. Ryan or anything. He was a teacher and that made him old in a completely different way. But he was easy to look at and listen to.

Finally, he shut the book and smiled. “Writing like this captures your heart and doesn’t let go. It’s like—” He turned and saw me for the first time. “Well, hello. Let me guess, Samantha Smith. New transfer student from…” He held his hand up. “Don’t tell me. I know this. Phoenix, right?”

I nodded. “You got it.”

“Any seat is fine. I don’t assign them. I want my students to feel comfortable. You can’t absorb great literature if you aren’t comfortable.”

I looked around, spotting an empty seat by the window.

“Grab a book on the back shelf.” He pointed to a bookshelf filled with not only school-approved books, but novels I’d buy if I saw them in a store. When I got really sick, Mom bought me a Kindle, and she let me load it with books. I wished I still had it. It would make staying awake at night a lot less boring.

“Have you read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde before?” Mr. Ryan asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, back at my old school.” I sat down with my novel.

“Would you care to pick up where I left off in the reading?”

Why did teachers always like to make the new kid read aloud? Did they think it would make the other students accept us? Because, really, it just made everyone look at you like the new school freak you were.

“Um, I don’t know where you were.” Lamest excuse ever.

“No problem,” Mr. Ryan said. “We are in chapter nine. Um, Mr. Milton, will you please show Ms. Smith the correct page and passage?”

The redhead sitting next to me leaned over and took my book, opening it to the page. He pointed to a paragraph. “There.”

“Thanks.” I wanted to sink into my seat and die of humiliation. Not only was I the new girl who had interrupted class, but now I had to read out loud. The girls in the front row glared at me. Thanks to me, they wouldn’t get to listen to Mr. Ryan’s hypnotic voice anymore. I cleared my throat and began reading, eager to get this over with.

“He put the glass to his lips, and drank at one gulp. A cry followed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as I looked there came, I thought, a change—he seemed to swell—his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter—and at the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leaped back against the wall, my arm raised to shield me from that prodigy, my mind submerged in terror.

“‘O God!’ I screamed, and ‘O God!’ again and again; for there before my eyes—pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death—there stood Henry Jekyll!”