Chapter 37

I pull a green cashmere sweater that matches my newly modified eyes over my head and pair it with khaki slacks. Lark arrives while I’m zipping up my knee-high boots.

“Alora’s car is waiting outside,” she says.

Of course it is.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

Lark’s laugh falls around me like a cascade of bells. “About attending a human school?”

“Not about the academics, I mean, but about fitting in and interacting with so many of them. Being normal?”

She shakes her head. “Not in the slightest. It’ll be nothing compared to evian court.”

Alora hands Lark and me each a black Prada bag when we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It holds your books and a lunch. You have to take those things with you every day.”

I sort of expect to see Edam, but he probably can’t show up with a bunch of students.

When I step into the car, I’m surprised to see another familiar face. I’ve known Alora’s driver, Bernard, since I was a baby. “Good morning, miss,” he says.

I probably saw him on the drive here from the airport, but I was in such a haze I don’t recall. Frederick’s sitting in the back seat in a black suit and tie.

“What’s your plan?” I ask. “You can’t follow me around from class to class and snatch sandwiches out of my hands.”

“I already tasted each component of your lunch myself,” he says. “As long as you keep it in your possession until you eat it, you’ll be okay.”

I stifle a chuckle. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ll be running the security for the entire school, thanks to Alora’s influence, which means I’ll have eyes on you at all times via their camera feeds. I’ll also have guards placed at strategic points around the school so that you’re always within a dozen feet of one of us.”

“I want to see what a normal school environment is like.” I stare at him hard and he doesn’t even flinch. “I mean it.”

“The school hired a new security firm thanks to a recent incident.” He shrugs.

“And you’re the new firm.” As close to normal as I could expect, I guess. Hopefully the students won’t suspect the new protocols have anything to do with me.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the school, even with New York traffic. Freddy lets Lark and me out alone, thankfully, and we walk in alongside dozens of other students who all look at us like we’re a zoo exhibit.

“You guys new?” one boy with bright red hair and freckles asks.

“We are,” Lark says. “Rebecca and Laura Adair. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, yeah.” He keeps walking.

“He’s rude,” Lark says.

“We might be the problem,” I say.

Lark quirks her eyebrow. “How so?”

“Alora’s hundreds of years old, and she’s been living with the humans for more than a century,” I say. “Beyond that, she’s a prima ballerina and a genius.”

“Okay,” Lark says.

“And she’s also, apparently, an idiot. She told me to wear something nice.” I glance around pointedly at the kids streaming past us in the hall. I grew up in Hawaii wearing flip flops and shorts whenever an event of state didn’t require me to wear designer clothing. And yet today, on my first day of school, I’m dramatically overdressed. Everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts, interspersed with the occasional sweater.

“We look like teachers,” Lark whispers.

I nod ruefully. “Alora’s getting an earful later.”

One kid among the dozens and dozens we pass doesn’t stare or laugh. He actually looks at me with something resembling empathy. “Your last school had uniforms, huh?”

Close enough. I nod.

He holds out his hand and we shake. It seems oddly formal for school, but Alora mentioned kids here talk about their parents’ professions frequently. Perhaps they’re all oddly formal.

“Noah Wen. Welcome to Trinity.” Noah has short, straight, jet black hair that’s spiky in the front, and slightly slanted eyes, indicating Asian descent in humans. When I look closer, I notice his irises are, surprisingly, a bright grayish blue. And not from contact lenses, either.

“Thanks. I’m Rebecca Adair, and this is my sister Laura. We’re not off to a very auspicious start, I’m afraid.”

He grins. “I’ll show you ladies to the front office. But if you want to blend in a little better, maybe wear some jeans tomorrow and lay off the SAT words like ‘auspicious’ until everyone gets to know you.”

We pass four of my guards on the way to the office. Only one of them starts to bow before catching herself.

“You’re starting on a weird day,” Noah says. “We got an email blast last night saying that the School Board voted to beef up security after some incident last week. I don’t even know what the alleged incident was. I didn’t hear about anything, but surprise! We’ve got guards all over the place now like we’re going to school at an airport. Don’t be nervous though, because I swear it’s safe here.”

“Well, thanks for showing us to the registrar,” I say. “We appreciate it.”

“The registrar?” Noah shoots me an odd look. “This isn’t college. But here’s the front desk, and good luck today. I’ll be around if you need a friendly face.”

Thankfully, the vice principal, Mrs. Nelson, doesn’t seem to notice that what we’re wearing doesn’t exactly fit. It’s as though everyone over twenty years of age is oblivious to clothing and style. She welcomes us and walks us through the school rules.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have room to put you both in the same class,” she says. “We’re completely full, but we do try to make room for legacy students, and your cousins have been some of our favorites.”

Cousins? Alora didn’t tell me any of her kids came here.

“My assistant Jane will take you to your first class, Laura, and I’ll walk you to calculus, Rebecca,” Mrs. Nelson says.

“Oh good,” I say. “Calculus.”

“We’ll still eat lunch together?” Lark asks.

Mrs. Nelson nods. “Lunch is determined by grade level. But your other classes aren’t the same.”

Lark’s lips compress, but she doesn’t complain. “See you at lunch.”

I follow Mrs. Nelson out of her office and to the right. Lark waves at me once before she disappears from sight.

“You may find classes here quite challenging,” Mrs. Nelson says.

I know nothing about calculus other than the fact that it’s a subset of the mathematics curriculum. I haven’t spent much time on math at home. I might be in trouble.

“Are you sure I’m supposed to be enrolled in calculus?” I ask.

The tall, bony Mrs. Nelson stops near the open doorway as students filter past us. She frowns. “I put you and Laura in as close to the same classes as I could based on your transcripts from Punahou.”

I blink. “From where?”

“I’m sorry, am I saying it wrong? Punahou?” She pronounces it like ‘Punawow’ the second time. “Your old high school? Maybe they say it differently in Hawaii?”

“Oh, right. My old high school. Of course.”

She looks at me funny. “If you weren’t in calculus in Hawaii, you definitely won’t be able to keep up here.”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll be fine.” After all, how hard can a human class be?

Mrs. Nelson stares pointedly. “You let me know if there’s been a mistake. We want to prepare our students to succeed in the real world by challenging them now, but that doesn’t mean we throw you in and stand idly by while you drown.”

Mrs. Nelson walks through the door and into the room and I follow her. “I want to introduce a new student to you, Mr. Mansfield.”

“I thought we didn’t allow mid-term transfers.” The short, balding man with a paunch frowns at me. He’s wearing khaki pants and a white button-down shirt.

“We’re making an exception for Rebecca and her sister,” Mrs. Nelson tells him. Then, very quietly under her breath, she whispers to him, “Their mother recently passed, and their father thought a change of scenery might help.”

He nods and turns to me. Very quietly, he says, “I’m very sorry for your loss. Welcome.”

Mrs. Nelson straightens her suit coat and glares at him before marching out the door just as a bell rings.

I look around to see what the bell means. The other students are taking their seats. It must signal the beginning of instruction.

“Please, take a seat Rebecca. Any empty seat is fine.” Mr. Mansfield turns to face the chalkboard.

There’s only one empty seat, and it’s on the very back row. I walk toward it slowly. I’m accustomed to being in a room with evians. We work to keep our heart rates steady around 20 to 25 beats per minute, our body temperature around our standard 97 degrees, and we try to give away as little as possible of what we’re feeling. The average human has a resting heart rate between 60 and 100 beats per minute, and a temperature above 98 degrees. These kids might as well shout their feelings from the rooftop with the staccato beat of their hearts, and the volume with which they whisper. Two girls in the back are discussing whether my chest is made of silicone, two guys near the front right are daring each other to ask me out, and the rest are unabashedly staring.

I glance back at the seat I’m approaching and recognize the boy sitting to my right. Noah Wen, the guy who showed me to the front desk. He’s smiling when I glance his way. I smile back at him before sliding into the empty chair and slinging my bag over the back.

New students in the middle of the year naturally generate attention, and I’m prepared for the other students’ scrutiny. What surprises me most isn’t the subdued conversations, the elevated heart rates, or the dares. What I was unprepared for are the heartbeats of two of the twenty students. One of them is a tall, lanky boy sitting next to Noah, and one of them is a girl with a riot of black curls sitting on the front left side of the classroom. They look similar to the other students, and my guess is no one else knows. If I hadn’t just uncovered Lark, I might not be as sensitive, but I did, and I am. Their resting heart rates and body temperatures are too low, and their features are a little too perfect.

They’re half-evian, like Lark.