Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(66)

“‘Rapscallion,’” Bee scoffed, and I gave a shrug, smoothing my hair back into place.

“Boning up on my SAT vocabulary,” I said, and she winced.

“Don’t say ‘boning.’”

All three of us laughed, and for a second, it was like nothing had changed. “I’ll meet you dorks for lunch,” I told them, “in the courtyard, usual table.”

After confirming that Bee and I did have our second-period class together, we headed off: Ryan and Bee to first-period Spanish, while I went in the opposite direction, heading for the headmaster’s office. As reigning SGA president, it was my responsibility to meet with any new students we might have this year in twelfth grade. I hadn’t heard of anyone, but then it wasn’t like I’d been focusing a huge amount on school stuff lately.

There was a flurry of activity around the main office, but that was always the way it was on the first day, and I was already thinking ahead to my own first-period class (AP French—at least half of my schedule was AP classes this year) when the office door opened and someone came hurrying out.

I was looking down as we collided, staring at the person’s shoes, a truly heinous pair of houndstooth Chucks, and wasn’t sure if my sharp inhale was from who those shoes reminded me of or the force of the collision. “Oh!” I gasped, my bag slipping off my arm.

I glanced down at it, only to find myself almost gasping again when I looked up.

David.

“Ah, God, sorry,” he said, reaching for my bag and sliding it back up onto my shoulder. He barely touched me as he did it, his eyes not quite on my face while I stood there, my mouth hanging open, everything in me seeming to somehow go still and speed up all at once. My face felt numb, my hands suddenly freezing, and I had the bizarre idea that maybe I wasn’t even at school. Maybe I’d fallen asleep, and—

But then the door opened behind him, and Blythe was standing there in a sensible sweater set and khaki skinny jeans, her dark hair caught up in a chignon at the back of her neck. She looked older than I was used to seeing her, although that weird little glint was still there in her eyes. This time, it looked a lot like triumph.

I realized David was still staring at me, and I made myself look at him.

His sandy hair wasn’t sticking up, but then it wasn’t fourth period yet. The freckles spreading across his face seemed darker against his slight blush, and his eyes behind his glasses were blue.

Just blue. Not a speck of gold to be seen.

But they were also a little blank as they looked at me. Well, not totally blank. There was some curiosity and, I thought, a little bit of appreciation there, but in that “dude looks at a pretty girl” way.

He didn’t know who I was.

My eyes flew past David to Blythe, but before she could say anything, Headmaster Dunn came out in his customary first-day brown suit and green bow tie. “Ah, Harper, excellent. This is David Stark.” He clapped David on the shoulder, and David winced a little bit, probably because Headmaster Dunn was wrinkling his shirt.

His lime-green pin-striped shirt.

Blythe might have done something to make him forget everything that had happened, but apparently she hadn’t been able to give him new dress sense.

“David, Harper is one of our finest students,” Headmaster Dunn continued, like he’d never met David before in his life. Like David hadn’t gone to this school since kindergarten, same as me. Again, I glanced to Blythe, and she smirked at me, wiggling her fingers behind Headmaster Dunn’s back.

I didn’t want to be impressed with that level of mind-control magic, but seeing as how the last time I saw David, he’d been bleeding out on the floor of a cave in Tennessee, I wasn’t going to complain.

Headmaster Dunn was still talking—I know he called Blythe David’s “sister” at one point—but all I could do was stare at David while trying to pretend I wasn’t staring at him. He looked so . . . him. Ugly clothes, sharp gaze, hair neater, but probably just seconds away from being a disaster . . .

Headmaster Dunn turned to leave, and as he did, David looked to me, eyebrows raised over the rims of his glasses.

“So I guess you’re my tour guide?” he said, and a dimple appeared in his cheek as he smiled.

I found myself smiling back even as I was terrified to even hope it could work out like this.

“Yeah,” I said, “let me . . . let me just chat with your, uh, sister for a sec.”

I stepped aside, and Blythe moved closer, her back to David, her head lowered so that she could pitch her voice just for my ears.

“I kick so much ass, right?” she asked, smile wide, eyes bright, and despite everything, I laughed. It was shaky and maybe a little unhinged, but it was a laugh.

“How?” I asked, and then suddenly, I knew. “The other spell. The one that freaked Dante out.”

She nodded. “Resurrection spell. Terrifying, and nothing I ever want to try again, but—”

“It worked,” I finished.

“I told you,” she said, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. I had no idea how she wasn’t sweating to death, but she definitely looked the part of Responsible Older Sister Guardian. “I am so badass. Granted, those spells were a lot easier to do on someone who was more or less dead than it would have been a conscious, pissed-off rogue Oracle.”

Folding her arms over her chest, Blythe continued. “Although trust me, that was nothing compared to the work it took to get your whole freaking town to forget David had been here before.”