The Initiation Page 0,17

almost hit her. It was a motorcycle on the bike path. But even more astonishing was its rider - a girl. She was wearing tight black jeans and a motorcycle jacket, and her trim, athletic body looked tough. But when she turned around after parking the motorcycle by a bike rack, Cassie saw that her face was ravishingly pretty. It was small and feminine, framed by tumbling dark curls, and marred only by a sullen, belligerent expression.

"What are you staring at?" the girl demanded suddenly.

Cassie started. She supposed she had been staring. The girl took a step forward, and Cassie found herself stepping back.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to - " She tried to tear her eyes away, but it was hard. The girl was wearing a skimpy black midriff top under the jacket, and Cassie glimpsed what looked like a small tattoo just above the material. A tattoo of a crescent moon. "I'm sorry," Cassie said again, helplessly.

"You better be. You keep out of my face, get it?"

You were the one who almost ran me over, Cassie thought. But she nodded hastily, and to her vast relief the girl turned away.

God, what a horrible way to start the first day of school, Cassie thought, hurrying toward the entrance. What a horrible person to be the first one you spoke to. Well, at least after a beginning like that, things could only get better.

All around her teenagers were greeting one another, shouting hello; the girls giggling and hugging, the boys horsing around. It was an excited bustle, and everybody seemed to know everybody else.

Except Cassie. She stood looking at the fresh haircuts of the guys, the brand-new clothes of the girls, smelling the scents of too much perfume and unnecessary aftershave and feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.

Keep moving, she told herself sternly. Don't stand around looking for that girl - find your first class. Maybe you'll see somebody there who's alone, and you can talk to them. You've got to look extroverted if you want people to think you are.

Her first class was writing for publication, an English elective, and Cassie was glad she had it. She liked creative writing, and the Program of Studies had said that the class would offer opportunities for publication in the school literary magazine and newspaper. She'd worked on the newspaper in her old school; maybe she could here, too.

Of course, the Program also said you had to sign up for writing for publication the previous spring, and Cassie still couldn't quite understand how her grandmother had gotten her enrolled just before school started. Maybe her grandmother had special pull with the administration or something.

She found the class without much trouble and took an inconspicuous desk near the back. The room was filling up, and everyone seemed to have someone to talk to. Nobody took the slightest notice of Cassie.

She began doodling ferociously on the front of her notebook, trying to look totally involved in it, trying to look as if she weren't the only one in class sitting alone.

"You're new, aren't you?"

The boy in front of her had turned around. His smile was genuinely friendly, but it was also dazzling, and she had a feeling he knew exactly how dazzling it was. His hair was auburn and curly, and it was clear that when he stood, he'd be very tall.

"You're new," he said again.

"Yes," said Cassie, and was furious to hear her voice shake. But this guy was so good-looking... "I'm Cassie Blake. I just moved here from California."

"I'm Jeffrey Lovejoy," he said.

"Oh," Cassie said, trying to make it sound as if she'd heard of him before, since this seemed to be what he expected.

"Center on the basketball team," he said. "Also captain."

"Oh, how great." Oh, how stupid. She had to do better than this. She sounded brainless. "I mean - that must be really interesting."

"Are you interested in basketball? Maybe we could talk about it sometime." Suddenly Cassie felt very grateful to him. He was ignoring her blundering, her lameness. Okay, so maybe he liked to be admired, but what difference did that make? He was nice, and it would definitely improve her status to be seen around the campus with him.

"That would be great," she said, wishing she could think of another adjective. "Maybe - maybe at lunch..."

A shadow fell over her. Or at least that was how it felt. In any case, she was aware, all at once, of a presence at her side,