page with a yawn.
It was right around then that Luce had had enough.
"Hey." She shoved Shelby's arm down so she could see her face behind the paper. Shelby's heavy eyebrows rose in surprise. "I used to be a scholarship kid," Luce told her. "Not at my last school, but the school before that--"
Shelby shrugged o Luce's hand. "Should I be impressed by that part of your r?sum?, too?"
Luce was just about to ask what it was Shelby had heard about her when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
Francesca, the teacher who'd met Luce at the door last night, was smiling down at her. She was tall, with an imperious bearing, and was put Francesca, the teacher who'd met Luce at the door last night, was smiling down at her. She was tall, with an imperious bearing, and was put together with a style that came across as e ortless. Francesca's soft blond hair was cleanly ipped to one side. Her lips were glossy pink. She wore a cool tted black sheath dress with a blue belt and matching peep-toe stilettos. It was the kind of out t that would make anyone feel dowdy by comparison. Luce wished she'd at least put on mascara. And maybe not worn her mud-crusted Converses.
"Oh, good, you two connected." Francesca smiled. "I knew you'd become fast friends!"
Shelby was silent but rustled her paper. Luce just cleared her throat.
"I think you'll nd Shoreline a very simple adjustment, Luce. It's designed that way. Most of our gifted students just ease right in." Gifted? "Of course, you can come to me with any questions. Or just lean on Shelby."
For the rst time all morning, Shelby laughed. Her laugh was a gru , gravelly thing, the kind of chortle Luce would have expected from an old man, a lifetime smoker, not a teenage yoga enthusiast.
Luce could feel her face pinching up into a scowl. The last thing she wanted was to "ease right in" to Shoreline. She didn't belong with a lot of spoiled gifted kids on a cli overlooking the ocean. She belonged with real people, people with soul instead of squash rackets, who knew what life was like. She belonged with Daniel. She still had no idea what she was doing here, other than hiding out very temporarily while Daniel took care of his ... war. After that, he was going to take her back home. Or something.
"Well, I'll see you both in class. Enjoy breakfast!" Francesca called over her shoulder as she glided away. "Try the quiche!" She waved her hand, signaling to the waiter to bring each girl a plate.
When she was gone, Shelby took a big slurp of her co ee and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Um, Shelby--"
"Ever heard of eating in peace?"
Luce banged her co ee cup back into its saucer and waited impatiently for the nervous waiter to put down their quiches and disappear again. Part of her wanted to nd another table. There were happy buzzes of conversation going on all around her. And if she couldn't join one of them, even sitting alone would be better than this. But she was confused by what Francesca had said. Why pitch Shelby as some great roommate when it was clear the girl was a total hater? Luce milled a bite of quiche around in her mouth, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat until she spoke up.
"Okay, I know I'm new here, and for some reason that annoys you. I guess you had a single room before me, I don't know."
Shelby lowered the paper just below her eyes. She raised one giant eyebrow.
"But I'm not that bad. So what if I have a few questions? Forgive me for not coming into school knowing what the hell the Nephermans are--"
"Nephilim."
"Whatever. I don't care. I have no interest in making you my enemy--which means some of this," Luce said, gesturing at the space between the two of them, "is coming from you. So what's your problem, anyway?"
The side of Shelby's mouth twitched. She folded and set down the paper and leaned back in her chair.
"You should care about the Nephilim. We're going to be your classmates." She ung out her hand, waving it at the terrace. "Look out at the pretty, privileged student body of the Shoreline School. Half of these dopes you'll never see again, except as the object of our practical jokes."
"Our?"
"Yes, you're in the `honors program' with the Nephilim. But don't worry; in case you're