he crowd was swaying to a thudding beat when Hayden made her fashionably late entrance into Hale Hall. The upper boys’ common room mirrored ours, but their sofas were covered in chocolate brown leather, and a pool table had been added to the mix—all very gentlemen’s club.

Hayden carried the grocery bag before her like a conquering hero while I trudged behind like the lowly squire. She handed it off to Stef, who hovered next to a giant punchbowl filled with pink juice. It sat on a dining table cluttered with chips and dip, platters of sushi, and stacks of red plastic drinking cups.

“See the man over there with the ugly brown tie?” Hayden nodded to a teacher who must have drawn the short straw to chaperone tonight’s party. In a ratty blue cardigan with leather patches on the elbows, he appeared equal parts vigilant and bored. “I know you don’t want to get expelled for bringing alcohol on campus,” she said with a mocking smile, “so we need to distract him for a minute. Think you can do that?”

“Do I have a choice?” I just kept digging myself in deeper.

“No. I’ll block his line of sight, and you start talking. His name is Mr. Gladstone.”

Having no clue what to say, I allowed her to drag me across the room.

“Hi, Mr. Gladstone,” she greeted him with false enthusiasm. “Have you met my new roommate?” She angled herself as planned while I moved directly in front of him.

“Hi, I’m Riley Collins,” I said, forcefully grabbing his hand and pumping it like a used camel salesman. “What subject do you teach?”

“Etymology,” he answered, bemused. He craned his neck to look over my shoulder. “Would you mind moving aside? I can’t see the drinks table.”

“Etymology? That is so interesting!” Pretending I hadn’t heard his request, I plowed forward on a subject I’d never studied but had plenty of firsthand experience with. “You must know all about those giant camel spiders we have in the Middle East, huh? Some people think they got their name from stories about how they’d leap up on camels’ stomachs and rip out their guts, but that isn’t true. They also don’t chase people, but if you run, they like to stay in your shadow, which can be pretty funny when it happens to a rookie. The look on their faces,” I laughed.

His mouth puckered like he’d sucked on a lemon. “It is not entomology, the study of insects. Etymology, my dear Miss Collins, is the study of language.”

“Oh,” I said, “parlez vous Francais?”

He looked heavenward. “Etymology is linguistics, Miss Collins. It is the origins of words.”

I screwed up my face in confusion. “Doesn’t come in very handy when you need to find a bathroom in Dubai, now does it?”

The guy looked ready to run away screaming. Fortunately, we were both rescued when Hayden gave the all clear. “Nice talking with you, Mr. Gladstone.” She walked away without a backward glance, leaving me to awkwardly follow.

People excitedly gathered around the punch bowl, and I stood back for a minute and watched. Alcohol was frowned upon at most Middle Eastern and many Southern Asian embassies, including Karachi, out of respect for Islamic law. I’d never so much as had a sip of champagne at a stateside Christmas party. But I’d signed on for the whole high school experience, so I grabbed a cup. It was fruity and bubbly and tasted pretty good.

The party would give me a chance to break out a little, or at least that was the plan. A few guys had already tried to catch my eye, but they wore those same knowing grins I’d come to dread. I hadn’t stepped foot inside the gym since sparring with Sam.

The MMA captain was another conundrum. On one of those frequent peeks I snuck at his lunch table, I had found him looking back. I’d looked away of course, completely mortified, but he’d just grinned in the most devilish way, like we shared some sort of secret. Yeah, I knew that secret: my roommate was his ex, which made him totally off-limits. I took another gulp of punch and pretended indifference.

Across the room, Hayden had surrounded herself with the same small group she sat with at lunch, which included Quinn and Jackie Song. She was at ease as the center of attention, her popularity a natural fit for her. As she spoke, her eyes darted to me once or twice, as did those of her listeners. The story of our encounter with Cowboy and Company would be all over the school within minutes, and I groaned inwardly. I couldn’t seem to live up to Benson’s rule #11: Don’t bring attention to yourself.

You can only stand alone at a party for just so long before you feel like a total loser, so I was pathetically grateful when Von swooped in to the rescue. He’d made an effort to dress up a bit and maybe it was the punch talking, but he looked pretty cute.

“Careful with that.” He nodded at my drink. “It’s all fun and games now, but in the morning you’ll feel like your brains have been replaced with rabid squirrels.”

I peered into his cup. “Coke?”

“Someone’s got to make sure Stef doesn’t pass out on the bathroom floor… again.” He gestured to the drinks table. The rest of the vodka had been funneled into an empty water jug, and Stef poured a healthy dose over ice.

“He does that a lot?’ The Stef I knew was sweet, funny, and generous; not exactly the description of a raging alcoholic.

Von shrugged. “Only on special occasions, like Fridays.”

“Shouldn’t we try to slow him down?”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’d have better luck playing the lottery, but I’m a believer in miracles.” He waved his cup at Stef, who knocked the vodka back like it was the water it appeared. “Lead on.”

Stef leaned against the table, his eyes momentarily closed as if savoring whatever sensations the liquor evoked. One eye peeked open as we approached. “Ah, fellow inmates,” he said, raising his glass. “Shall we drink to being one week closer to parole?” He took a gulp without waiting for a response.

“I didn’t realize we were prisoners,” I said.

“Oh boy, here we go,” groaned Von.

“Didn’t you, fair Riley?” Stef said, ignoring the pained look on his roommate’s face. “Look around. Everyone here is bound by expectations, by destiny, or by simple accident of birth. Even when we get off of this goddamned breeding farm, none of us will ever really be free.”

I shot a sidelong glance at Von, unsure how to respond. “So what is your destiny, Stef?”

He snorted in derision. “Mine? Mine is to be invisible, to not smear the family’s good name, because God forbid I embarrass anyone.”

Von expelled a long-suffering sigh. “Stef, how ‘bout we not go down this road for a change? You don’t want to scare Riley off now, do you?”

“Why?” Stef challenged, wobbling slightly. “‘Cause I might embarrass you in front of your new girlfriend?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Von said firmly. He put his cup down and grabbed Stef’s arm. “Come on, man. Let’s go sit down for a sec while you get your sea legs.” He glanced back at me with a hopeful smile. “You’re sticking around, right?”

I tipped my glass in a “no promises” gesture.

Stef allowed himself to be pulled away, but that didn’t stop his mouth. “I’ve told him it’s no good, Riley,” he called over his shoulder. “All love is doomed. He loves you, you love Sam, Hayden thinks she loves Sam though she has no clue what that means, and who knows who Sam loves ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t me…”

No one paid any attention as Von deposited him on a sofa. If anything, the determination of those nearby to have a good time ramped up higher as loud laughter rang out. Did they ignore him because they’d heard it all before? Or was it because they recognized some uncomfortable truths in his rant? In some ways, these over-privileged children were as bound by their culture as Farida was by hers.

On my own again, I sipped my drink and checked out the latest arrivals. Thanks to Stef, I knew the names and histories of quite a few. Living up to his nickname of the mayor of Harrington, he’d taken it upon himself to help me fit in as quickly as possible. Every morning before Bracken’s class he dished on the school’s who’s who, and I took full advantage of it.

This morning he’d appeared dressed as the general of his own fabulous army. He’d pinned an array of medals and ribbons to his blazer, and his pants were bloused over the top of combat boots. A jaunty tie worn off center added a final touch of cheek.

“I really wish you’d give some fashion advice to our military,” I joked.

He preened. “I know, right? I could give shock and awe a whole new meaning.”

“Speaking of advice,” I said, pulling a sad face, “can you help me with Hayden? Living with her is like living with a block of ice. I’m not so sure about her.”

He grew serious. “You’ve got to give her a chance. Everyone’s always coming at her all ‘gimmee, gimmee’.” He pretended his hands had become a grasping pair of claws. “Once she realizes you’re not a leech, she’ll warm up.”

He surprised me. “You like her, then?”

Now he was the one surprised. “Of course,” he said simply. “I love her.”

“Funny, I didn’t think she was your type,” I said, in an effort to lighten the mood. “Does Von know?”

Stef cackled. “Von? I love him like a brother, but his fashion sense?” He crossed his arms with a cocky air. “All me. I alone have saved him from dressing like an accountant, though bless his little heart, he sure acts like one half the time. I’ve never met anyone so–what’s the word?–precise.”

Quinn chose that moment to edge up next to me, bringing me back to the here and now.

“That was some story Hayden told us,” she said, punctuating her comment with a sip of punch. She looked great in a gorgeous red dress. “First you wrestle Sam, and now you’re off fighting trailer trash. Whatever will you come up with next?”

Her tone wasn’t admiring, but neither was it mocking, so I decided to take it at face value. “Hopefully nothing. I just want to settle in and keep my grades up.”

“It must be really hard for you, though,” she said, sweeping her cup to indicate the crowd of students. “We all come from one world, and you, well…” She shrugged a shoulder.

She hadn’t said anything rude, but I’d just been insulted. “For the most part, I was raised in the Middle East, not by aliens,” I replied tartly.

She gave me a thin smile. “Do you think that makes any difference here? Let’s face it. Even if people are nice to you, you’ll never really be accepted.”

I stared at her a moment, wondering what she was up to. “And you’re telling me this why…?”

Up ‘til now we’d stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the crowd. Now she turned to face me. “Hayden is going through a really rough time right now. The last thing she needs is to babysit a roommate who has no idea how things work around here. Leave her alone, and I’ll make sure no one gives you a hard time, okay?”

My dad once told me negotiating was nothing but a collection of lies ending with an agreement. Maybe he had Quinn in mind when he’d said it. She was right about me not knowing how things worked at Harrington, but that didn’t mean I was a fool.

“Thanks, Quinn. That’s really nice of you,” I said ambiguously. Let her infer whatever she wanted from it.

She smiled. “I’m so glad we understand each other. Well, enjoy the party.” She raised her glass in a toast and sailed off. I took a drink, hoping to wash away the bad taste she’d left behind.

I automatically scanned the room for Hayden, and was surprised to find her sitting with Stef. He’d reached the part of the evening where the high had become the low. His head rested on Hayden’s shoulder, and she was comforting him. I couldn’t help staring at the transformation of my roommate from evil princess to savior.

The flash of a camera caught my eye. Sarah Jane captured the two of them before aiming her phone at another couple. I worked my way across the room and got her attention.

I nodded at her cell. “Are you sure you should be doing that?” I had noticed her at the Narc table at lunch, where all the prefects gathered. They weren’t a popular bunch, and I could foresee a few of the jocks getting worked up if they saw her flashing away.

“I’d like to see any of them stop me,” Sarah Jane sniffed. “Besides, I’m not taking anything incriminating. Yet. And it’s just for our private feed anyway.”

Prefects could get away with things the rest of us couldn’t. It would be the perfect cover if you wanted to take pictures interesting enough to get tabloids—or people looking to breach Harrington’s security—to buy them. But how could I prove it, even if it were true? Sarah Jane openly photographed the party, but with a camera in every pocket, it could be anyone.

Hayden patiently helped Stef off the sofa, though he staggered a bit when he got to his feet. Taking her hand, he docilely allowed himself to be led him out of the party with Von bringing up the rear.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Sarah Jane scoffed, noticing my interest in Hayden. “Judging from the endless allowance, Daddy probably pays her to keep her brother out of trouble.”

My jaw dropped. “Stef is Hayden’s brother?” They both shared the same airbrushed beauty of a Disney princess but were miles apart in personality. It suddenly explained his affection for her.

“Half-brother on the dad’s side while he was still married to Hayden’s mom. Hard to believe, huh?” She snapped a few more pictures. “She’s Teflon, and he’d probably blow over in a strong wind. Maybe if you rolled them into one, you’d have a halfway normal person who could survive rehab.”

I frowned, still staggered by the revelation. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

She lowered her phone. “Look, Riley, I don’t know about you, but I’m here on scholarship. I don’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for people who have everything yet value nothing. Do you?” Her eyes flicked to my cup as I took another drink. “You seem like a decent person, but you better catch on quick. People like us don’t get second chances.”

She left me with my mouth hanging open once more. Did her position give her access to my files, and had she learned why I’d been sent to Harrington? Was she warning me about something specific? I took another sip of my drink, but it had lost its charm.

Why had I not been told that Stef was Stephen Frasier’s son? Was the different last name supposed to buy him anonymity? Shouldn’t I be watching out for him as well as Hayden? Wouldn’t he be an equally valuable bargaining chip if kidnapping and ransom were your stock in trade? This made no sense to me, but a lot of things had begun to look a little fuzzy in the last few moments.

I wove my way through the ever-growing crowd to find a place to toss my almost empty cup, but smacked right into a solid wall of pale blue cotton. My eyes traveled upward into Sam’s amused face. “I was looking forward to our next match, but maybe we should take it to the gym, don’t you think?”

It took a moment or two to register his shirt smelled like clean laundry, and that my hand still rested on his chest where I’d braced myself when we collided. “Oh,” I said, dropping my hand and taking a step back.

He pretended not to notice my pink cheeks. “So when are you coming back to the gym?”

“Oh,” I repeated, my verbal skills deserting me. “I, uh, don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

His smile wavered. “I bet we barely scratched the surface on your moves. Why would you want to stop sparring?”

I made the mistake of looking directly into those deep blue eyes but still somehow managed to murmur, “It’s, uh, complicated.”

“Is the complication Hayden?” He sounded disappointed. “I’m asking you to spar, not get married.”

“Of course not, I mean, I know,” I sputtered. Feeling like a complete fool, I took the last big gulp of my drink to mask my embarrassment. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t prepared for the way the alcohol burned my throat, and I started to cough like a typhoid patient.

“Easy there, killer,” he said, thumping me good-naturedly on the back. He took my cup and gave it a sniff. “What the hell are you drinking?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I choked out, feeling light-headed.

He thrust his own cup at me. “Here, it’s cranberry juice.” He watched me take a few tentative sips. “Have you eaten anything?” When I shook my head, he sighed. “Drinking on an empty stomach is suicide. You know that, right?”

He grabbed my hand and started pulling me through the crowd. We were making progress, so obviously my feet were functioning, but it was if I sailed effortlessly across the room. The music pulsed all the way into my bones, and the faces turned to us as we drifted past registered in a dreamy haze.

A blast of cold air broke through the fog, and I realized we were outside. “Where are we going?” It occurred to me we were alone on one of the dark walking paths, though for some reason it was hard to get worked up about it.

“To Watson.” He linked his arm with mine, and we strolled side by side toward my dorm. “You need to eat something, and then you need to go to bed. How much did you drink tonight?”

“Just some of that pink juice.” I tried to recall if I’d ever drunk anything pink before. “What drink is pink, anyway?” I looked around at the alien landscape and suddenly longed for the familiar hallways of the Karachi embassy. “I don’t belong here. I was so foolish to think I could fit in.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in quite a while,” he assured me.

“That’s because you don’t know me.” I lurched to a stop and grabbed onto his shirt. “What if you found out I wasn’t who you thought I was? What if I was sent here with a mission?” The words tumbled out unfiltered.

“What, like a tabloid reporter?” He wasn’t taking me seriously.

“No, I’m one of the good guys,” I insisted. “But I have secrets, Sam.”

He seemed to think that was pretty funny. “Don’t worry. They’ll be safe with me.”

I tipped my head back. “Everything is so different here, even the stars.” Ever since I could remember, the constellation of Gemini, my birth sign, waited for me in the nighttime sky. The unfamiliar collection of stars now overhead only reinforced how alone and far from home I was. How was I supposed to survive in this alternate universe?

“It gets better,” he said softly, his face also upturned to the heavens. “I left all my friends when my mom moved us to New York last year. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He turned to me. “The trick is to find one thing every day you like, or at least that you don’t hate. Do it long enough, and you’ll finally realize it’s okay. Can you think of one thing right now you don’t hate?”

“I don’t hate you,” I said in a tone that made it clear just how much I didn’t hate him.

He grinned before tugging me back into motion. “This is your stop,” he said when we arrived at my dorm. “Will you be okay?”

“Sure,” I said airily. “I’m always okay. Just ask anyone at the embassy, and they’ll tell you I’m fine, fine, fine.”

He laughed. “Yep, you’re fine alright. I can’t wait to hear how fine you are in the morning.” He did a quick sweep of the lobby. “The warden isn’t at her desk. I’d haul ass upstairs if I were you.” I waved in his general direction before staggering to the elevator.

The third floor was quiet since so many of the girls were at the party. I reached my room, but froze when I noticed the door slightly ajar. I was positive I’d locked it… at least I thought I was positive.

My Taser useless without a fresh cartridge, I silently pushed the door open and swayed at the threshold. My laptop sat on the nightstand where I’d left it. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

I needed to check the bathroom and open the closet doors, but I suddenly didn’t feel so well. I collapsed onto my bed and blindly yanked up the comforter. Maybe if I could lie down for a few minutes, the room would stop spinning. I counted my breaths. Each time I made it to ten without running to the bathroom to hurl was a victory.

I had been wrong. This wasn’t an alternate universe. This was hell.