Forbidden (2 page)

Her mom stared at her. “What? What are you talking about?”

Claire blinked twice. “That form you’re looking for. Check the pocket of your laptop bag.”

Claire’s mom slipped her hand into the pocket and pulled out a printed form, looking confused. “I must have put this in there yesterday at the office. How did you know that?”

“Just a lucky guess. You squirrel things away there all the time, Mom.”
Weird
, Claire thought, as she exited the car and her mom slid into the driver’s seat.
Where did that thought come from? Was it déjà vu? And why do I feel so dizzy?
Claire’s knees were wobbling, and sweat beaded on her brow. She turned away quickly, readjusting her fitted white top and short floral skirt. “Gotta go, Mom. See you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The Camry entered the stream of departing parents. Claire cut over to the steps leading up the hill, grateful that her mom hadn’t noticed Claire’s light-headedness or the flush she could feel heating her face.
The symptoms must come with the territory
, Claire decided—but it was better not to mention them. You could never tell what would set Lynn Brennan off. The least little oddity in Claire’s health or behavior, the tiniest hint of a problem at school, even a wrong-number phone call in the middle of the night, could send her spazzing. Before Claire knew it, they’d be packed up and moving.
It’ll be safer here
, her mom always promised. Safe from what? Claire could never figure that out.

“Claire Bear! Wait up!”

She knew that voice. Claire turned, happily returning her best friend’s hug. “Hey, gorgeous! When did you get back?”

“At two a.m. I am
so
jet-lagged.” Erica Fischer was tall and willowy, with stunning, shoulder-length red hair. Claire always felt like Erica’s clothes—today it was an embossed aqua-blue spaghetti top, pencil-thin designer jeans, and an assortment of funky jewelry—cost three times as much as her own. They probably did. “You look pale, Claire. Did you ralph this morning or something?”

“No.” She darted Erica a meaningful look as they started up the central stairs toward the Upper School. “
It
started today.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “
It?
Are you serious? Wow, finally!”

“I know, right? I was starting to think I was a space alien.”

“Do you need any Midol?” Erica shoved her hand into her purse and held up a packet, smiling like a spokesperson in a TV commercial. “It’s one of the only sanctioned drugs on campus. Guaranteed to relieve cramps and bloating!”

Claire grinned. “Thanks, but my mom already gave me some. She totally freaked when I told her. For some reason, she seemed really upset.”

“My mom was the opposite when it happened to me:
über
jazzed. She was all”—Erica adopted her most annoying, sunshiny voice—“‘Welcome to womanhood, sweetheart! This is
so
wonderful! Someday when you have children, it will all be worth it!’”

Claire cringed. “I don’t know which reaction is worse.” They passed the central landing, where two crisscrossing stairways met, and continued up toward the South Quad. “So tell me about the South of France, and how desperately you missed me.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have wanted to be there,” Erica insisted melodramatically. “There were long stretches of sand-and-pebble beaches, endless supplies of chocolate éclairs, and lots of tall, dark men hitting on me who didn’t know the meaning of the word
statutory
.”

“Did your dad beat them off with a stick?”

“Sadly, yes. I drowned my sorrows in wine. No one in Europe seems to care about your age.” Erica thrust out her wrist, exhibiting a dangly silver charm bracelet. “My mom bought this from a flea-market gypsy in Aix-en-Provence. What do you think?”

“I think she’s gonna hunt you down for swiping it.”

“She’ll never notice it’s gone. She’s too busy shuttling my brother around today.”

They reached the top of the hill and headed into the quad, where two lines of juniors were waiting outside classroom doorways to have their photos taken. “Let’s get this picture over with, shall we?” Claire said with a nervous sigh. She never liked any of her school pictures and found the whole experience somewhat demoralizing.

A hand waved to them from near the end of a line, and they moved to join Brian Yao—a cute, short boy with spiky black hair and a ready smile—whom Erica had known since seventh grade. Even though Brian’s parents had plenty of money, he always wore the same ancient pair of sneakers, held together at this point by willpower and duct tape. The duo had welcomed Claire when she’d arrived at Emerson two years ago, and they’d been close ever since.

“Hey, Bri!” Erica scampered over to give him a hug. “Good to see the evil summer internship didn’t sap your good looks.”

“Oh, they tried. My dad’s a taskmaster! I had to wear a suit and tie, even though I spent most of my time filing. But everyone was nice.” Brian hugged Claire. “Sorry I’ve been MIA all summer, CB. Did you end up slaving at Peet’s again?”

“
And
two summer school courses. Try not to be jealous.” Claire’s eyes were drawn to the guy standing in line behind Brian. She’d never seen him before, but he was staring at her—and not, she thought, in a friendly way. “Don’t worry, we’re just saying hello,” she said quickly. “We’re not cutting, I promise.”

The guy instantly ducked his head and busied himself fiddling with an antique-looking gold pocket watch that he pulled from his Levi’s. “You’re already here. Might as well stay.”

He spoke with a charming Scottish accent that was more
Braveheart
than
Trainspotting
(i.e., you could actually understand what he was saying). He was pale but very attractive, with a lean, muscular build, messy, dirty-blond hair, and dark green eyes. His jeans and black T-shirt were complemented by battered army surplus combat boots, while his backpack was casually slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“Nice watch,” Claire said. “You’re new, aren’t you? Are you from Scotland?”

He seemed to consider his words before answering, “Aye.”

“Cool.” Brian grinned. “Are you an exchange student or something?”

The Scottish guy shook his head, his handsome face unreadable as he put the watch back in his pocket. Claire couldn’t tell whether he was stuck-up, rude, or just uncomfortable being the center of attention. “No. Just moved here.”

They all stepped forward as the line advanced. Erica shot Claire a silent, wide-eyed look that conveyed
exactly
how hot she thought the new guy was. Whirling back to stare at him, as if she’d just found a shiny new toy, Erica gasped, “Say something else!”

“Something else?” he said tentatively.

Erica giggled and clapped her hands with delight.

Claire rolled her eyes and grinned apologetically. “Ignore her. She’s always been a sucker for anyone with a foreign accent.”

Rather than return Claire’s smile, the guy glanced away again. His eyes scanned the quad as if determined to look anywhere but at her.
Well
, Claire thought,
so much for trying to be polite
.

Brian, unruffled, stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Brian. These two harpies are Claire and Erica. Allow me to personally welcome you to the City of Angels.”

“Alec. MacKenzie.” He shook Brian’s hand and cracked a stiff smile.

Claire wondered how much longer they were going to have to endure this one-sided conversation. Despite how good-looking he was and his cool Scottish accent, he seemed like a pain in the ass. Thankfully, the line had moved quickly and they were next. “Bri, get in there. You’re holding us up.” Claire shoved him playfully toward the open classroom door.

Brian turned back to them and bowed. “Reflect, ladies and gentleman, on the seriousness of this moment. This picture is no mere ID photo. It will hang all year long on the Student Life Center wall for everyone to see, trapped in the class collage. And it will last for time immemorial in the yearbook, to embarrass us and entertain our grandchildren.”

Erica looked at Alec with a laugh as Brian strode into the classroom. “I know what you’re thinking, and no, he’s not crazy. Brian and I are both … theater people.” She whispered
theater people
mischievously, as if it were something delightfully sinful.

“I figured,” Alec said, still doing his best impression of a statue.

Claire hoped they were done with him. But Erica had other plans.

“Mr. MacKenzie,” Erica continued with a melodramatic, mock English accent, “you simply
must
join our little group after your photograph. Books are distributed in the gymnasium down the hill, and we would not wish you to become lost on your first day here.”

Alec paused again, as if taking great pains to weigh the decision. Finally, he answered quietly, “Sure.”

Great
, Claire thought with an inward sigh.
Won’t this be fun
.

two

A
lec cast a glance at the girl beside him as they made their way down the hill. It was all he could do to keep his face impassive, to retain his usual calm and collected façade. He hoped she couldn’t tell how fast his heart was beating, or guess the effect she had on him.

He couldn’t stop staring at her. Sunlight glimmered on her long, lustrous brown hair, bringing out its hidden highlights. She had stunning hazel eyes with intriguing golden sunbursts. She was curvy without being too voluptuous; just right, to his way of thinking. But although her beauty had caught his attention, it wasn’t the only reason he was attracted to her. He was well trained in the art of reading people, and although he’d barely heard her speak more than a few sentences, she radiated intelligence, confidence, and vulnerability all at the same time—a combination he found extremely compelling.

Clearly, he thought, Claire wasn’t experiencing the same magnetic pull that was wreaking havoc on
his
mind and pulse rate. If anything, he sensed that she didn’t much like him—that he’d made a poor first impression. As they walked along, she laughed effortlessly with her friends and directed the occasional comment his way, but she was clearly doing it more out of politeness than real interest. He did his best to nod and smile, but he felt awkward, as if his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

Get a grip
, Alec silently chided himself as they left the stairs and crossed the main street of the campus toward the gym. It was so unlike him to react this way. Over the years, he’d become adept at taking on whatever role was needed, while at the same time hiding his feelings and talents. But in the past there had always been an ulterior motive to his interactions. Now, for almost the first time in his existence, he had an opportunity to truly be himself—but without a specific goal, he found himself floundering. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to act.

For eons, he’d fantasized about making friends—wasn’t that one of the reasons he was here? It went against everything he’d been taught, and he knew he wasn’t really prepared for it; but he couldn’t help himself. As long as he remained hidden, as long as he didn’t cross any lines, and as long as none of the others found him, he should be safe—right?

Still, these
feelings
had happened much faster than he’d anticipated. He’d barely just settled in, accepted as a last-minute entry based on his stellar entrance exam test scores—legitimate—his flawless transcript—not so legitimate—and a substantial financial contribution from “his uncle Gregory.” He’d scoped out the school as a visitor several times, and today was supposed to be the final stage of recon. Assess the population. Gather more data. Remain inconspicuous. Instead, this friendly group seemed to have adopted him—and here he was, struggling to hide an immediate, overpowering attraction to a girl he’d just met.