Halo by Alexandra Adornetto Page A

big red heart around it before I could stop her. She handed it back and tossed her own into the mess of her locker. There were books piled haphazardly, posters of famous bands taped to the inside walls, empty snack wrappers, a half-finished bottle of diet soda, and an assortment of lip glosses and tins of mints littering the bottom. In striking contrast, my books were arranged in a neat row, my blazer was pegged on the hook provided, and my color-coded class schedule was taped neatly inside my locker door. I didn’t know how to be messy like a human; every instinct in me screamed for order. The proverb that “cleanliness is next to Godliness” couldn’t have been more accurate.
    I followed Molly to the cafeteria, where we frittered away time until she had to go to math and I to French. But first I needed to detour back to my locker to collect my French books, which were big and cumbersome. I stacked them on top of my folder while I bent to retrieve my English-French dictionary, which was wedged at the back.
    “Hey, stranger,” said a voice behind me. I was startled and jumped up so fast that I hit my head on the roof of my locker. “Careful!” the voice said.
    I spun around to find Xavier Woods standing there with the same half-smile on his face that I remembered from our first meeting. Today he was dressed in a sports uniform—dark blue track pants, white polo top, and a track jacket in the school colors slung over his shoulder. I rubbed the top of my head and stared at him, wondering why he was talking to me.
    “Sorry I scared you,” he said. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m perfectly fine,” I replied, surprised to find myself once again dazzled by his striking looks. His turquoise eyes were fixed on me, his eyebrows half raised. He was standing close enough this time for me to notice that his eyes were flecked with streaks of copper and silver. He ran a hand through the hair that flopped over his forehead, framing his face.
    “You’re new to Bryce Hamilton, aren’t you? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk yesterday.”
    I couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response, so I nodded and focused on my shoes. Looking up was a huge mistake. Meeting his gaze caused the same intense physical reaction I’d had last time. I felt as if I were falling from a great height.
    “I hear you’ve been living overseas,” he continued, undeterred by my silence. “What’s a well-traveled girl like you doing in a backwater town like Venus Cove?”
    “I’m here with my brother and sister,” I mumbled.
    “Yeah, I’ve seen them around,” he said. “Hard to miss, aren’t they?” He hesitated a moment. “So are you.”
    I could feel myself starting to blush and I backed away from him. I felt so feverish that I was sure I must be radiating heat.
    “I’m late for French,” I said, snatching up the closest books I could find and half stumbling along the corridor.
    “The language center’s the other way,” he called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
    When I did eventually find the right room, I was relieved that our teacher had also only just arrived. Mr. Collins, who didn’t look or sound very French to me, was a tall, lanky man with a beard. He was wearing a tweed jacket and cravat.
    It was a small classroom and almost full. I glanced around for the closest empty seat and stifled a gasp when I saw the person who was sitting right next to it. My heart somersaulted in my chest as I moved toward him. I took a breath and steadied my nerves. He was just a boy, after all.
    Xavier Woods looked mildly amused as I took my seat beside him. I tried my best to ignore him and focused on opening my textbook to the page Mr. Collins had written on the blackboard.
    “You’re going to have some trouble learning French from that,” I heard Xavier murmur in my ear. I realized with a flood of embarrassment that in my confusion I had picked up the wrong book. In front of me lay not my French grammar book but one on the