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telling me to turn back.

Red plaid kilt.

Petals curling up and turning black as though they were burning in the heart
of a fire.

Gray sweater with the Evernight crest.

Okay, a good time to stop being hopelessly morbid? Right around now.

Determined to act like a normal teenager for at least the first day of the
school year, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The uniform didn't look
terrible on me, but it didn't look great, either. I tugged my hair into a
ponytail, picked out a tiny twig I'd missed before, and decided my appearance
would have to do.

The gargoyle was still staring, as though he were wondering how anybody could
look that dorky. Or maybe he was mocking the total failure of my escape plan.
At least I wouldn't have to look at his ugly stone face any longer. I squared
my shoulders and left my room—for the last time, really. From now on, it didn't
belong to me.

I'd been living on campus with my parents for the past month, which had given
me time to explore virtually the entire school: the great hall and lecture
rooms on the first floor, after which it split into two enormous towers. The
guys lived in the north tower, along with some of the faculty and a couple of
musty filing rooms that seemed to be where permanent records went to die. The
girls were in the south tower, along with the rest of the faculty apartments,
including my family's. The upper floors of the main building, above the great
hall, housed the classrooms and the library. Evernight had been expanded and
added to over time, so not every section was in the same style or seemed
exactly to fit with the rest. There were passageways that twisted and turned
and sometimes led nowhere. From my tower room I looked down on the roof, a
patchwork of different arches and shingles and styles. So I'd learned my way
around; that was the only way in which I felt prepared for what was to come.

I began down the steps again. No matter how many times I made this trip, I always
felt as if I might tumble down the rough, uneven steps, over and over, all the
way to the bottom. Stupid, I told myself, worrying about nightmares
with dying flowers or about falling down the stairs . Something a lot
scarier than any of that was waiting for me.

I stepped out of the stairwell into the great hall. Early this morning, it had
been hushed, cathedral-like. Now it was packed with people, ringing with
voices. Despite the din, it seemed as if my footsteps echoed throughout the
room; dozens of faces turned toward me at once. Every single person seemed to be
staring at the intruder. I might as well have hung a neon sign around my neck
that said NEW KID .

The other students clustered together in circles too tight for a newcomer to
enter, their eyes dark and quick as they darted over me. It was as though they
could see down into the panicked fluttering of my heart. To me, it seemed that
they all looked alike—not in any obvious way but in their shared perfection.
Every girl's hair shone, whether worn down in a cascade past her shoulders or
tied back in a prim, sleek bun. Every guy looked self-assured and strong, with
smiles that served as masks. Everybody wore the uniform, with the sweaters and
skirts and blazers and trousers in all the acceptable variations: gray, red,
plaid, black. The raven crest marked them all, and they wore the symbol as
though they owned it. Confidence radiated from them, and superiority, and
disdain. I could feel the heat leaching from me as I stood on the outskirts of
the room, shifting from foot to foot.

Nobody said hello.

The murmuring welled up again within an instant. Apparently gawky new girls
weren't worth more than a few moments of interest. My cheeks were flushed with
embarrassment, because obviously I'd already done something wrong, even if I couldn't
guess what. Or did they already sense—as I did—that I didn't really belong
here?

Where's Lucas? I craned my neck, searching for him in the crowd. Already
I felt as though I might be able