I have to do is follow the written directions and write down what I observe. How hard can it be?
Next to impossible when faced with the glory that is Gabriel Fallen. As soon as I walk in the door to the lab, he’s putting on a show for me. He has his lab coat on backward and his aviators on and he’s spiked his shoulder-length hair so it sticks out at all angles. He holds up a test tube and announces in a trembling voice, “My greatest creation. It’s aliiiiiiive.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I roll my eyes as I slide my seat away from him. That scent of him swirls around me – the smoke and sugar of heathen debauchery. All the dark and tempting promises of his music drip from him, and I want to surrender to it. Instead, I pick up the worksheet containing the experiment we’re supposed to complete and start measuring out the different chemicals.
“What are you talking about? This is my serious student face.” Gabriel purses his lips. “I copied it from Eli.”
“It needs some work.” I stare down at the page in a vain attempt to keep myself from laughing. “It looks like someone’s shoved a cantaloupe up your rectum.”
“A cantaloupe?” Gabriel slides in beside me. “That’s awfully specific. Do you have a lot of practice shoving spherical fruit into forbidden orifices?”
His arm brushes mine, and my skin crawls with heat. I look toward the windows – anywhere to avoid meeting Gabriel’s eyes, because I don’t trust myself around him right now – and see Eli and Noah walking across the quad, surrounded by their popular friends. Cleo hangs off Noah’s arm, but his eyes are fixed on the classroom. On me and Gabriel. And he looks murderous.
“Your friend doesn’t like me.”
Gabriel looks up and sees his friends. He grins wickedly and flips Noah off. Noah frowns and returns the gesture, but I can tell from the tightness in his shoulders that this isn’t friendly ribbing. Noah doesn’t want Gabriel to hang out with me.
Cleo looks over and sees us. She shakes her head at me as if to say, ‘what will I do with you?’ Great. I’ll pay for this later. Now Eli’s looking, also great. He gives this friendly wave that makes my chest tight. The last time someone waved at me… I can’t even remember. I whirl around to face the experiment again. No point wishing for what can’t be.
“Noah’s got a wicked hate on for you,” Gabriel muses as he makes a table for our results on the back of the worksheet.
I grunt in reply. There’s nothing else to say about it. If I were Noah, I’d hate me too. “Noah’s your friend. You don’t share his hate?”
There’s a darkness in Gabriel’s voice as he says, “I long ago gave up on letting other people dictate my life.”
Gabriel’s lyrics fill my head, the chorus to my favorite Octavia’s Ruin song, ‘Dance Macabre.’
You’re the Senator and I’m the slave.
Watch me dance for your amusement.
We’ll have a royal rave,
While Rome burns all around.
When Gabriel sings that song, there’s a bite to his words, a bitterness that seeps into every note. Suddenly, I have to dig. I need to know if what I feel when I listen to his music is real, or if it’s all an act he creates to sell records.
“So how come you’re here?” Our mixture fizzes, but doesn’t explode. I make a note on Gabriel’s table. “Surely you’d rather be in the studio or on tour rather than at school. It’s not like you need a high school diploma.”
Gabriel’s easy expression doesn’t change, but there’s a prickle in the air that wasn’t there before. “I know you’re a Ruins fan, Mac. You must have heard about Dylan.”
“I did. It’s terrible that he died. He was an amazing drummer, and I know he was your friend. But the band’s still together, right? You’ll find a new drummer and finish the album?”
Gabriel hums under his breath as he lights the Bunsen burner and rearranges the test tubes. “I haven’t decided. That’s why I’m here. Stonehurst is as good a place as any to figure out my next move, certainly better than enduring my parents back in England.”
“The music press is talking like you’re already hunkered down in a studio in Paris.”
“Yes. Well, they don’t know everything about me.” Gabriel rests his chin in his hands and stares into the flame of the Bunsen burner. A shadow hoods his eyes. It’s gone in an