"Miss Donovan?"

I look up from the notebook I’ve been scribbling in to see the entire classroom staring at me, yet another downside of being the only Donovan in the room—extra attention.

I’d bet that, if I were any other new kid, the teacher wouldn’t already know my name.

"Yes?" I answer, well aware that I should already know what it is Mr. Floren is asking of me.

My biology teacher is a large man with dark hair, with a face covered in scruff. He’s the first teacher of the day who didn’t make me stand up and introduce myself to everyone, like some kind of exhibit. I like him so far—or at least I did until he decided to call on me, pointing a giant neon arrow right at the new girl.

"Well, what do you think? Why is biology one of the most important studies for mankind?"

I blink. That’s what we were talking about? I wasn’t listening at all. It had all been the usual introduction to a new class stuff and my mind had started to wander without my permission.

This should be an easy one. Mr Floren has given me a softball question, but all I can focus on is that everyone else in class is waiting for me to give an answer. Mr Floren doesn’t say anything, he just waits. He might as well crucify me right here in front of everyone.

A piece of paper shifts over to my desk.

This classroom is set up with two rows of double desks that also act as lab stations. When I first saw it, I wanted to turn around and wait to go in until the last possible second, so I could just take whatever seat was free rather than having to ask people if they’d mind sitting with me. But I didn’t show up alone, and I couldn’t exactly ignore Erik, so we sat together. It was that easy. Now he was feeding me the answer to Mr. Floren’s question, via the piece of paper.

"Because we’re essentially studying ourselves," I answer, attempting to look up as soon as I’ve read the paper. "Biology teaches us about how we work and what happens when parts stop working."

Mr. Floren’s mouth twists up into a small pucker. He knows. He definitely knows what just happened. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to stop myself from breaking eye contact with him, tempted to stare intently at the textbook I’ve been ignoring all period.

"Okay," he says finally, his face relaxing into an easy smile. "Mr. Lagaor, can you name three areas of study that also utilize biology?"

I sigh in relief before looking over at Erik, mouthing a "Thank you." I can already see myself spending more time with him and his friends—hanging out at lunch and after school, studying for bio exams etc. He offers up a quick nod of acknowledgement.

My sisters will be pretty damned shocked to learn that I met people on my first day. Hell, my best friend from back home, Nadine, won’t believe it at all. Between the two of us, we only made one new friend in our first year of high school. In Fairview, I’ve already potentially made three—and the day isn’t over yet.

I should learn my lesson here and pay attention to the lecture, instead, I uncap my pen and scribble a note to Nadine. Last year, we had already memorized each other’s schedules, and I probably would have been able to pass this to her between classes. This year, I’m going to have to wait until I get home and then type it up to e-mail to her.

I’m still writing when I hear my name. I look up to see Mr. Floren looking right at me—again. This time, there is no kindness or patience in his eyes.

Shit.

"I’m sorry you don’t find my class worthwhile enough to hold your attention. May I ask what is so important?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. I look down at the paper in front of me, scrambling for ideas. "Notes?" I offer, but I know I sound pathetic.

"Fine. Let me see." He beckons toward me with his hand.

I would give every penny I have to actually have biology notes in front of me right now, every penny and probably all of my sisters’. I’m that desperate.

"I’m sorry," I say, all but confessing my sins. "It won’t happen again."

"We have rules in this school, Miss Donovan. And those rules apply to new students and local celebrities alike. Mr. Shevaz, please bring me the notebook in front of Miss Donovan."

Erik winces apologetically but grabs my notebook without question. There’s no time for me to do anything, and I couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m glued to my seat.

When he clears his throat, my heart stops completely. He’s going to read it out loud.

He’s going to… I… this is the worst—what did I write? I can’t remember what I wrote. Everyone in this entire class is about to hear it word for word. Suddenly it hits me. I absolutely want to die. That would distract them.

I can feel the blood surging through my body, every inch of me flushes a deep scarlet. They’re going to hate me. Every single person in this room is going to hate me.

Please don’t do this.

"Nadine,’" he reads, his voice perfectly clear. I try to stop myself from listening to focus on burying my head in my hands and blocking out the rest of the class, but it doesn’t matter. "’I miss you! How’s Ashmore? How’s Elise? Tell me everything. I’ve already met some people, which is hard to believe. Reagan Donovan doesn’t make friends—Reagan hides in the corner and plays City of Ages.’"

Oh god. I’d already forgotten I wrote part. So much for anyone here ever thinking I’m cool enough to hang out with. And the rest of it is coming back to me quickly. The worst part is yet to come.

"Not sure what you’d make of Fairview. It’s a really pretty town, and the people seem nice. The news crew when we got here was only the tip of the iceberg. Everyone at the high school is obsessed with us. They know our birth order, who our parents are and they care way…’" Mr. Floren pauses, clearing his throat. The entire room is perfectly still and quiet. "Well I think that’s enough."

My heart is racing. My fingers are clutched onto the side of the desk and my eyes are glued to the whiteboard behind the his head. Is it over now?

No one is speaking. I can feel them all looking at me.

I have to do something, so I move my head and make eye contact with the girl across the aisle from me. Then the girl beside her. I don’t need to look any farther. No one is watching me with curiosity or wonder anymore. Now I can’t tell what they’re thinking. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with Erik. I can’t bear to see what he thinks of me now.

Everything is ruined.

My eyes settle on Mr. Floren as he’s closing my notebook. He won’t look back at me. Maybe he realizes what a colossal dick he has been, mortifying the new girl on her first day. Maybe he’ll look back on this moment for the rest of his life and remember my face. But it doesn’t matter; the damage is done.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

I fumble for my bag as every nerve in my body screams, convinced I’m going to die at any moment. My mind is too focused on getting the hell out of there to think straight.

Fight or flight… I’ll choose flight every time.

My chest constricts as soon as I reach the hallway and I break into a run, to getting some distance from that classroom. I can feel sweat dripping down the side of my face even though I’m shivering. Getting free of the room only does so much to calm me. There’s no taking back what just happened.

I’m alone for now. How long until the next bell rings? I don’t want anyone else to see me like this, and I sure as hell can’t go back to class. I can’t think clearly or do anything besides relive the last few minutes.

Heat rises in my cheeks again as I gasp for a much-needed breath. For almost a full minute, all of my effort goes to making myself inhale and exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

Breathe, Reagan. Keep breathing. My body struggles to listen to anything I’m telling it to do.

I can’t go back in there. Ever. Those people hate me now—hell, they’ll all probably tell their friends and then everyone at this school will hate me and my sisters. Stuck up, self-involved—I can hear the whispers already.

I won’t be returning to that science class, so what’s Plan B? Coming up with something to do next helps my heart rate to slow back down. I’m starting to feel like a person again. Barely.

More specifically, I’m remembering that I’m a person who knows where the guidance office is.

I have to fix this!

"Excuse me," I say to the impossibly petite lady manning the desk when I get to the administration offices. In the distance, I hear the bell signaling the end of fourth period. "I need to drop a class."

"We don’t rearrange schedules once the school year has started," she responds with a grainy voice. She doesn’t even look up at me. She must get these kinds of requests all the time.

Damn it. At Ashmore, they could switch classes around for up to two weeks after a new semester started. This place has to be able to do something for me.

"Please…" I say. I have nothing more to add. I’m willing to beg if I have to.

At last, she glances up. I don’t know if it’s the desperation in my voice, or the Donovan-ness of my face that makes her take me seriously, but she lets me in to see the next available counselor. Within minutes, I’m free of Mr. Floren and sophomore biology.

Unfortunately, I know that the glares and whispers will follow me anyway. If only there was a way to transfer right out of this school.

* * *

I don’t bother going to my last class of the day. Fifth period has already started by the time I finish dropping biology, replacing it with … drama class. Oh god, did that really happen too? I can’t even think about that right now.

That will be tomorrow’s nightmare.

The last thing I need is to barge in late in the middle of class. With my luck, everyone from that bio class also has math fifth period, so I would be surrounded by familiar, judging faces as soon as I get in the room.

Rhiannon texts me within ten minutes, asking where I am. I’m surprised she hasn’t already heard what happened. I tell her that I’m not feeling well and that I’m going home early, so they won’t wait for me at the end of the day. While I’m walking my phone buzzes with new messages, but I don’t bother to look at them. I have nothing to say for myself right now, and there’s nothing they can tell me that will make this any better. They might even hate me too if people end up judging them for the fact that they’re sisters with a socially inept moron.

Since I get lost and have to turn around three different times, the walk home takes me twice as long as it probably should. The town is small, but I still don’t know my way around and so many of the houses look similar. Thankfully, Dad isn’t home when I get there. Otherwise, I’d have had to offer up some sort of explanation about what I’m doing home already. Instead, I slink up to my room, crawl into bed, pull the covers up over my head, waiting for the world to end.