I hated being different. I hated that my aunt and cousins didn't always understand me. At that moment, I missed Gavin even more for his quiet understanding. He'd grown up knowing all about my peculiarities, so I never had to explain anything. We rarely even talked about it. Every now and then though, he'd tease me about being a freak. But he always seemed to know where the line was and he never crossed it.

"I don't know," Winnie whispered. "You definitely seem off."

"I'm just a little nervous, but don't worry. That's not enough to make me lose control. Heightened emotions can bring on the change, but there's more to it. It's hard to explain."

"You can tell me." Winnie laid a gentle hand on my arm.

We rarely talked about my alter ego, but I knew I could trust her. Winnie was that kind of person. I leaned against the wall next to the painting and swallowed the lump of fear creeping up in my throat. "Well, I can be mad, but that won't necessarily make me need to morph. If I'm really p.i.s.sed off or super frustrated, maybe." I blew out a breath. "It's the active emotions, like getting overly excited. I don't know how else to explain it."

Winnie studied my face, contemplating what I'd said. "Like if you got jacked up on caffeine and went on a roller coaster ride?"

"Yeah, that might do it." I smiled, grateful that Winnie at least tried to understand me, unlike Beatrice and my aunt who abided by the Don't Ask, Don't Tell rule.

She returned my smile. "We'd better move or we're going to be late."

I did my best to ignore my fellow monsters as I followed Winnie down the hallway, past rows and rows of lockers.

She stopped abruptly. "This one's yours."

I pulled the slip of paper from the side pouch of my backpack and scanned the numbers to the combination lock. I committed the sequence to memory, then stuffed the paper in the pouch and opened my locker.

"Active emotions, huh?" Winnie furrowed her brows, as she contemplated the concept, then she lowered her voice. "So what would happen if you kissed a guy and he was an amazing kisser and you really, really liked him? Could you get worked up enough to lose control and shift?"

My stomach churned and I flinched, thinking of poor Jack.

Winnie gasped. "Is that what happened to him, the boy you bit? My mom only told me you'd lost control and hurt a boy. She didn't say how it happened."

My eyes pooled as I remembered all the blood... his torn flesh.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "We don't have to talk about it. I shouldn't have brought it up, especially today. Don't know what I was thinking. C'mon, I'll show you to your first cla.s.s. That's Mr. Williams. Biology, right?"

"I think so," I replied, trying to purge the memory of Jack's scream.

"Mr. Williams is okay." Her words flowed quickly, like she was trying to distract me. "But he takes his cla.s.s very seriously. You'll do alright so long as he feels like you're making an effort."

I followed her numbly, taking slow deep breaths until she stopped near a doorway.

"Maybe I should call my mom." She put her hand against my forehead. "You don't look so good."

"No." I shook my head and she dropped her arm. "I'll be fine. I promise."

"Okay." She backed up. "I'll find you at lunch."

I nodded and turned toward the door, then forced my legs to move.

"You must be Cydney Marsten," a forty-something year old man said as I pa.s.sed through the doorway. He had sandy blond hair and wore black wide-rimmed gla.s.ses. A light blue b.u.t.ton-down shirt hung over khaki pants and brown loafers. He gave me a look that said he knew I wasn't human, even though I knew his human senses couldn't confirm that for sure. He pointed to an empty chair near the window. "You can sit there."

I scanned the faces of the other students, automatically looking for Jack - now that he'd been brought to mind. But none of the guys resembled the boy I knew from years ago. Not even close.

Jack had been a year older than me and would've graduated last year. I wouldn't see him at my school unless he'd failed a grade. Unlikely. He'd been too smart for that.

If I met him again, would I recognize him? How much had he changed? His voice would be deeper and most likely he'd filled out a bit. Would he be much taller than me? Would he recognize me?

Would he hate me?

I'd spent three summers with Jack. Every day, he'd be waiting for me in the woods, in our special place, wearing a grin. And I'd smile back.

His curly, dark hair had always been messy, but he'd worn nice clothes. I loved his face, especially his amber colored eyes. I'd frequently wondered whether his parents were Asian or black or Spanish. He looked to be a mixture of just about everything. Maybe that's what made him so mesmerizing.

The first time I'd seen him, he'd been lying in the meadow, staring at the trees with his rolled up jacket under his head. He'd given me a startled look, obviously not expecting anyone to happen by. He'd stood and dusted off his clothes and we'd made small talk for several minutes. I hadn't wanted to part ways and, apparently, neither had he.

After a while, he'd asked me my name. Then his hands had shot up, palms out, to stop me from speaking. "Never mind. We can be whoever we want, in our own little world. Who do you want to be?"

I'd giggled and given him Gavin's nickname for me, Cinderella, since I answered to it anyway and I didn't have to worry about forgetting it.

He'd grimaced. "That's a fake name, right?"

"What, you're not into fairy tales?" I chuckled. "And what awesome name are you using?"

"Today, I'm... Jack." He laid his arm across his body and bowed to me, before looking up with mischievous eyes. "Of bean stalk fame."

Back home in Florida, Gavin and I hadn't gotten out of the city much. Being the only breadwinner, my mom was usually too busy to take us anywhere. She used her vacation time for her trips to visit Aunt Mina here on Ile de Paix. Since our island getaways were all we had, it made anything I did with Jack seem especially new and exciting.

One day, it would be a stream with tiny little fish and another day he'd show me a giant gnarled oak tree to climb. Some days, we'd just talk or he'd whip out a deck of cards and we'd play rummy or war. But no matter what he suggested, I'd always shrug and say, "Sure." I already felt too young and not nearly pretty enough to hang out with him, and had no clue why he sought me out. Didn't he have other friends? In any case, I didn't want him to think I was a dork, so I always contained my excitement.

A part of me wished I'd taken a picture of him, wished I'd gotten his true ident.i.ty. But back then, I'd loved our pretend world. Knowing his name would've connected us to our real lives. And when we met every day that summer in the clearing, we didn't want to be reminded of reality. It was just the two of us, in our own little world. I'd wanted it to stay that way.

And it had.

Until I'd ruined it.

"Miss Marsten," my teacher said, jerking me out of my reverie.

c.r.a.p. I hadn't been paying attention. My shoulders bunched up as I waited for the question I knew was coming.

"Can you tell me what volvox is and where I might find it?" Mr. Williams asked.

Whew. I'd learned that a few months ago at my last school. I exhaled and relaxed. "It's an algae found in freshwater areas like lagoons and ponds."

"That's correct." His eyes narrowed. He was probably trying to figure out how I knew the answer, when I'd so obviously been on another planet during his lecture.

Vowing to pay attention for the rest of cla.s.s, I put Jack out of my mind. What was the point in thinking of him? He'd probably been a tourist every summer, a temporary transplant like me. It would certainly explain why he didn't seem to have any other friends. But even if he lived on the island, after what I'd done to him, he wouldn't want to see me again. Of that, I was sure.

I remembered the terror in Jack's eyes, just before I'd bolted to keep myself from hurting him worse. I'd regained control of myself minutes later and returned to make sure he was okay and beg his forgiveness, but he'd vanished. There was nothing left but the lingering scent of blood.

Whether someone had found him and helped him or an animal had dragged him off, I never knew. When I got home and told my mom I'd bit someone, she'd locked me up that night. I was grateful, because I couldn't bear to hurt anyone else.

The next morning, I'd intended to look for Jack, but my mom had already arranged our flight back to the States. I never got a chance to find out what happened to him.

I refused to think that he hadn't survived. Because that would mean I'd killed him.

Chapter Four.

Cydney The bell rang at the end of the first period. Chairs sc.r.a.ped across the floor as students pushed back from their desks, followed by shoes pounding on the floor as they fled Mr. Williams' cla.s.s.

"Miss Marsten, a minute of your time?" Mr. Williams growled from behind his desk.

I suspected he was about to reprimand me for not paying attention during cla.s.s. I approached his desk anyway. "Yes?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I understand you have extenuating circ.u.mstances that may make it difficult to fully partic.i.p.ate in cla.s.s. Perhaps you'd like to take another week at home?" His words sounded concerned, but his tone said the opposite.

"No, I'm ready for school," I lied.

"In my cla.s.s, there is no in-between. I indulged you today. Tomorrow, you're either in or you're out. Got it?"

Great. My first day, first cla.s.s, and my teacher had no heart.

He jerked his head toward the wall clock. "Shouldn't you be getting to your next cla.s.s?" His jaw ticked.

Without another word, I rushed to English Lit, fervently hoping my day would get better.

I was the last to enter my next cla.s.sroom, one second before the bell rang.

"Good morning, Cydney. I'm Ms. Hambry." The woman, decades older than me, sighed. "I was so sorry to hear about your mother. I met her a few years ago through a mutual friend. She was such a sweet woman. Car accident, right?"

I nodded and bit my lip to keep my chin from quivering. In an effort to escape the teacher's pitying smile, my eyes searched out an available chair.

"You can sit there, sweetheart." She pointed to the first row. Right where she could throw me sympathetic glances throughout cla.s.s. Yay.

And she did. For nearly an hour, every time her eyes strayed to me, I'd get the look.

School was supposed to take my mind off things, not suck me into them. But by the end of Ms. Hambry's cla.s.s, my throat felt swollen and my eyes burned. If they couldn't forget, how could I? More than anything, I wanted anonymity. To live where no one remembered my mother or how she'd been tragically ripped from our lives.

A place where I wasn't constantly reminded of what I'd done to Jack.

Maybe leaving the house wasn't such a good idea after all.

When the lunch bell rang, I bolted to the cafeteria I'd pa.s.sed by earlier that morning. I searched the huge room, but couldn't find Winnie anywhere. My throat closed over and my eyes blurred with tears. I balled my hands into fists and inhaled deeply, desperately trying to calm down.

I moved out of the way and stood against the wall, away from the swarm of students. I focused on the clanging of utensils and the din of voices. Anything but my rising terror that I might lose my human form and do something unspeakable.

If I morphed into a wolf in front of the entire school, I'd expose my kind to any humans nearby who weren't already aware of supernaturals. That was frowned upon even on Ile de Paix. Would being sent to wolf-juvie or some sort of reform school be my fate? Or did they send wayward teens like me to a place far worse?

I didn't intend to find out, because I would not morph in front of the entire school. No way. Willing my muscles to relax, I exhaled slowly and made my way to the food line. I needed Winnie, especially after my awful morning. She'd distract me.

Grabbing a tray, I shuffled over to the food line. My tray quaked under my trembling grasp and my stomach twisted. I took another deep breath, fighting my emotions, so I wouldn't transform into the wolfinator.

Winnie would come. I just needed to hold it together a couple more minutes.

"There you are." My cousin smiled, her long, brown bangs falling into her eyes.

My breathing steadied. "Winnie."

"Everything all right?" Concern furrowed her brows. "I take it your cla.s.ses didn't go well?"

My gaze dropped to the empty tray in my arms and I scooted ahead to close the gap in the line that had opened in front of me.

As if sensing my reluctance to confess how badly it had gone, she plowed on. "But you didn't morph or freak out, right?" she asked in a hushed voice only the supernaturals could hear. They had to know what I was, so it didn't matter if they overheard.

I shook my head.

"There's the bright side." She threw a glance over her shoulder. "We already have a table. Are you up for meeting my friends? Or would you prefer a quiet lunch, just the two of us?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Would you mind very much if it's only you and me?"

"No problem. I'll get my tray and be right back." She turned on her heel and blended into the crowd of students again.

What would I do without Winnie? I couldn't even imagine this world without her in it.

By the time she returned with her lunch, I'd made it through the food line. She led the way to a nearly empty table in the far corner near a window. We sat at the opposite end of the long table from a couple girls who looked a year or two behind Winnie.

I sensed eyes riveted to me. Lots of them. "Everyone's staring at the new girl," I mumbled.

She snorted. "No. They're staring at the hot chick."

My eyes shot to the girls at my table, looking for the hot chick.

"I meant you, dork." She rolled her eyes.

"Uhm..." I mentally pictured my reflection as I'd seen it every day - pale skin except for the ma.s.s of freckles I referred to as birth defects and curly red hair that reached past my shoulder blades. Cheekbones too prominent and an overly large mouth. No, there was nothing hot about me. "You're delusional, Winnie."

Her lips curled up at one end. "Oh, spare me the faux modesty. I'm not blind and neither are they." She waved a hand in the air to include everyone in the large room.

Anyone who complimented me usually lost all credibility the next time I looked in the mirror. But Jack had told me I was beautiful ages ago... right before he'd kissed me. He'd said it so sincerely, I'd believed him. After I'd lost control, I'd felt as ugly as my guilt-ridden soul.

I popped the top on my soda and pretended to ignore Winnie's last comment.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Beatrice appeared next to us at the end of the table, slamming her palms on the table between us. "Did you hear about the ball this weekend?" Her eyes darted from me to Winnie.

We shook our heads, knowing we didn't need to encourage Beatrice. She'd spill it, even if she wasn't supposed to.

"Well, as you know, Prince Remy didn't go to Harvard as planned. Apparently, he refused to leave the island." Beatrice gave a smug look.