I stood in front of my mirror, eyeing myself skeptically. I was in the fifth outfit I had tried on that day. It was a cute, flowy brown dress with three-quarter sleeves that fell just past my knees.
“No. Not right.” I scowled. I plunged back into my closet and came back out in my usual outfit. My jeans were a it too long, time worn and ripped at the knees. My shirt featured a panda hitting its friend and bore the message “If you’re happy and you know it, slap your friend.” I smiled. I slid my feet into platform sandals and looked at myself again. I tousled my hair so I fell around my face in thick, chocolate brown waves. Satisfied, I smiled at he mirror.
“Perfectly average.” I told my reflection. My hair half hid my eyes, one of my best features. I’d never seen anyone else with eyes like mine. They were the perfect, impossibly dark brown of fertile earth after a fresh rain. I winked at myself and slipped my backpack on. It was full of school books and my friends had complained about how heavy they were, but to m the bag was feather light. I snuck out into the kitchen, listening for my parents.
My parents didn’t really abuse me; they never touched me at all. I didn’t understand why they hated me. They stayed out of the house as much as possible, going to work before I woke up and not coming home until after midnight, if they came home at all. When they did come home, it wasn’t pretty. Though they had never touched me, be it affectionate or hurtful, their words were enough. They had torn me down until I’d thought being invisible was better, and I didn’t trust anyone. But Johnathon had been my savior when he moved in next door the year of my fifteenth birthday.
“Annabella!” the deep voice was crystal clear as its owner pounded on my door.
“Speak of the devil.” I muttered. Johnathon bummed a ride from me every morning since he lived alone and all his money went to the rent check. It was seven-forty, and we were running late. I popped the toaster prematurely and wrapped my poptarts in a paper towel, heading out the door. I shoved past Johnathon, sliding into the driver’s seat of my Bugatti Veyron.

Even though my parents were lower-middle class, I wasn’t. I had a debit card that drew money from a bank account that never seemed to run out. So I could buy what I wanted, including a new car every six months. The only thing I couldn’t buy was a motorcycle. They always disappeared. Two years ago I had found out they went to my father’s chop shop, and I stopped buying them.
“Well good morning to you too.” Johnathon got in the passenger seat and raised an eyebrow at me. I shook my head.
“Sorry. Good morning.” I smiled at him brightly.
“Excited about tomorrow?” he asked. My smile widened. The next day would be my long awaited eighteenth birthday, meaning I could legally get out of my parents’ house and get my own life.
“Of course. How could I not be?” I asked. Johnathon smirked at me. His own eighteenth birthday was three months before mine.
“It’s only the most important birthday of your life.” I said it with him. It had been his constant refrain for the last year.
“What’s in the CD player?” he asked. I smiled at him slyly.
“Turn it on and find out.” I suggested. He closed his eyes, knowing it couldn’t be something he liked. He pushed the button and Megadeath immediately began to blare out of the speakers at full volume. Johnathon winced and turned it down to half volume.
“How can you stand this music?” he groaned, wrinkling his nose distastefully. I barely kept myself from smiling.
“It’s better than Beethoven, Mr. Classical.” I teased. Johnathon stuck his tongue out at me.
“We have sensitive ears. We should not be abusing them with this kind of trash.” He protested. I retaliated and we spent the rest of the drive arguing the merits of different genres of music. I won in the end with my hatred of anything jazz, classical, or pop.
“Popular music is just a bunch of idiots selling their integrity to lose their privacy.” I said heatedly as I spun the dial on my locker.
“So says the girl who’s in love with Bon Jovi.” Johnathon opened the locker so I could start unloading.
“Bon Jovi was a great 80s hair band. They’ve adapted to modern times while still producing music long-time fans can recognize and admire as his!” my words were punctuated by the sounds of my books slamming into the back of my locker.
“Alright, alright! Don’t take it out on the books.” Johanthon took the last few from me and slotted them into their correct places gently. I had a rare chance to step back and look at him objectively.

He hadn’t changed at all in the last two years. He was still a little on the shorter side, maybe five seven, which was perfect compared to my five three. His ebony black hair was always scruffy and died blue at the ends. The blue matched the dark, endless blue of his eyes. His thick lashes would make any other boy look girly, but the rest of his features were purely male. If it weren’t for his jeans and tightly fitted tee, though, I would have thought he had walked right out of a historical romance. All the girls swooned over him. Sometimes I thought it annoyed Johnathon that I was the only one immune to his charms.
“Annabella?” he asked, amused. I shook myself, blushing.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked. He chuckled.
“You should pay more attention. I said the bell is about to ring so we should get moving.” The bell rang as he spoke.
“Don’t wait to walk me. Just go!” I commanded, walking to my classroom a few steps away. Johnathon ran in the opposite direction. My favorite athlete. I thought fondly. Then I pushed open the door and sat down next to my only other friend, Marissa. She looked over at me and passed me a note. She’d convinced the teacher to let us sit next to each other for this exact reason.
Tell all. The note said. I shook my head, laughing silently.
Nothing to tell. Woke up late. I wrote back. She looked up and scowled at me. I stuck my tongue out a her and pulled a face. She made a funnier one, and we tried to beat each other. Our shenanigans were interrupted as a student burst through the door.
“Yes?” the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow. The boy didn’t even take a breath,
“I’m a new student. My name is Arden Fee.” The boy said. He looked around and his eyes caught on me. My breath stuck in my throat. He was mind-bogglingly handsome. His hair was pure silver and his skin was perfect porcelain pale. His eyes, locked on mine, were bright, unnatural, and antifreeze green color. A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes widened, seemingly in recognition. He looked away and that stopped the debilitating sense of déjà vu that’d had me trapped.
“Ah yes. I was told to expect you.” The teacher said. She signed the from he was holding. Ms. Halfred looked around the room before directing her gaze back to Arden.
“Where should I sit?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow. There was only one empty seat, the one next to me in the very back. Marissa and I never liked to sit in the front, knowing we’d ace without taking notes. Marissa, when I glanced over, was staring at Arden like he shouldn’t be there. Arden kept his gaze down and slid into his seat. The teacher started her lecture and I turned to him.
“Hi. My name is Annabella L’Argile.” I whispered, holding my hand out. He shook it but his eyes were wide, like a frightened animal’s.
“I’m Arden.” He said, almost inaudible.
“I know.” I smiled, but he looked startled. “We all heard you talk to the teacher.”
“Right, right.” He said quickly. Something thwapped me in the back of the head. I reached for it and found Marissa’s note.
Well, what’s he like? She had written. Her perfect, calculated writing was messy for once.
I’ve only introduced myself. Chill. I flicked the note back at her.
“What lunch do you have?” I asked. Arden dug in his backpack and pulled out his schedule.
“Um, first.” He frowned a little and my heart fluttered. I scowled, confused by my immediate reaction to him. I pulled his schedule away.
“That’s the same I have. And we have third hour too. We both have PE.” I said. Arden brightened and smiled shyly. I smiled back, wondering what his afternoon classes would be.
“So, do you mind if I sit with you at lunch?” he asked, running a hand through his spiky hair self-consciously. For a second it looked like his ears were pointed, but I blinked and they were normal again.
“Of course. I don’t mind. You’re welcome to sit with us if you’d like.” I said. Marissa started coughing like she was choking.
“I think she wants to talk to you.” Arden pointed at her. I looked over to find Marissa glaring at Arden. I rolled my eyes.
“What?” I hissed, flicking my gaze to Arden. He lounged back in his chair, as unconcerned with notes as we were. My heart jumped again, but this time I smiled.
“Oh my god! You like him, don’t you?” Marissa asked, giving me her patented evil eye.
“I like Johnathon, too. And you.” I answered, avoiding the question.
“No, you seriously like him.” She said, seeming shocked. I blushed and glanced over to see Arden staring at me. He looked away quickly, but that little smile stayed.
“So? I’m allowed to like guys.” I protested.
“Not this one.” Marissa said steadfastly. She crossed her arms.
“I wouldn’t date him anyways. He’s sweet, but he’s obviously really shy. Not the kind of guy I like.”
“Because bad boys are everything!” we crowed together. We laughed silently, leaning against the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Arden staring at the ceiling tiles thoughtfully, absently making a list as the teacher droned on about past participles.
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Marissa and I walked to second hour together. The only class we didn’t share was seventh hour, when she had drama and I had drama tech.
“So has who asked you out yet?” Marissa asked. I looked sideways at her, startled.
“Who?” I sounded like an owl.
“Johnathon, dummy!”
“Marissa, you’re crazy. Johnathon and I are just friends.” I held up my hands earnestly.
“Come one Anna, it’s so obvious he’s head over heels for you.” She seemed a little sad when she said it.
“Again, you’re crazy!” I repeated. O was glad when we got into class and she shut up. She was staring at another new guy, her eyes wide, and he was staring back.
“Marissa?” the guy asked hoarsely.
“Kaleb!” she squealed. She ran into his arms and he swept her off her feet, hugging her tightly.
“I’m assuming you two know each other?” I asked, amused. Marissa smiled at me apologetically.
“Sorry. Kaleb, this is my best friend Annabella L’Argile. Anna, this is my twin brother Kaleb Leon.” She hugged him happily. I looked between them skeptically.
Kaleb was golden. His hair was spun gold, like it was fashioned from the sun’s rays. His skin was tan and he was well muscled, but his skin was randomly marred by scars. He was about Johnathon’s height and had the same regal features. His bearing was pure animal, wary and ready. But his eyes were the most perfect, stunning blue I’d ever seen. It was like they had absorbed the color of a perfect Indian summer sky. They were fastened on me with unemotional curiosity.
“I don’t see it.” I said, turning my gaze to Marissa. She had thick, night black hair that fell over one of her mismatched eyes. The eye you could see was green, the color of tree leaves. She was tall and willowy, almost six foot like Arden. And where Kaleb was watchful and tense, she was lazy and relaxed.
“Oh, hold on.” Kaleb pushed Marissa’s hair behind her ear. Her other eye, the one she kept hidden even from me, was the same dazzling blue as Kaleb’s. I narrowed my eyes until I picked up the tiny similarities: their slender hands, full lips, and their matching noses.
“How come I’ve never heard of him before?” I asked reproachfully. Kaled swallowed hard, looking away from his sister. Marissa blinked slowly.
“Our parents disagreed with me over my way of life. People who believed the way I do gave me a safe haven. I left home when I was really young. It’s so good to see him.” I knew she was lying, but she was good. There was just enough emotion and truth to fool anyone who didn’t know her as well as I did.