Lane had never shown up at school before; thusly, I was quite surprised when I saw him in the hallway on Monday morning.

Veronica was still "sick," although I'd visited her on Sunday to press her for more information. She played the part of the invalid or some turn of the century woman on a fainting couch, holding her wrists limply and covering her face with the corner of her sheet.

"Have you gone to the doctor's?" I demanded. "Maybe you have some rare disease."

She draped one arm fully over her face. I noticed that she was wearing some frilly white cotton night gown I'd never seen before, even though Veronica and I had slept over one another's houses a number of times.

I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes at her dramatics.

"Honestly, Amy, I'm sure this is just a case of vapours."

Yes, I spelled it here the British way. Because it sounded like some ridiculous non-illness women suffered from in Dickensian England. Perhaps something a woman might complain of when she had her period, or didn't want to have relations with her husband.

"I'm fairly certain there is no such illness as 'vapours,'" I told her.

"Yes, I read it in a book," Veronica said.

"You can't believe everything you read," I said. "There is no such real illness as 'vapours.' It's like... 'galloping consumption' or 'spotted fever' or... or...'dropsy'! Shall I send for the doctor with his jar of leeches?"

A bit of a mocking British accent had seeped into my voice, which might account for Veronica's reaction.

"Perhaps you ought to leave then, before you catch my non-existent disease."

I'd never heard Veronica use that sharp tone with me. I blinked, but her arm still covered her eyes.

Silently, I left her alone.

So when I walked into school on Monday, my mind was mired in my conflict with Veronica. Why was it so important to me that she admit that she either wasn't really sick, or that she needed to see a doctor? There was some gray area that told me something could be seriously wrong, but if it was that thing I couldn't even name, my whole sense of reality was going to crumble.

I got to my locker and tried to focus on what textbooks I needed.

"Hello, Amy."

Lane's face appeared immediately beside my locker door.

"Lane!" I glanced around at the other students passing by. Several of the girls were checking Lane out, then casting derogatory looks at me. "What are you doing here?"

"My paperwork finally got cleared," he told me, leaning casually against the lockers.

This new development shocked my system. That weak-kneed feeling evaporated. Lane wasn't some mysterious possible vampire with a magnetic power over me. Lane, probably not even really named Lanius, was just another high school kid. A kid wearing perfectly fitted jeans, and a black button-down shirt, unbuttoned just enough so it didn't look preppy, and a cord around his neck with some kind of rune or something on it. I almost snorted a laugh. He probably bought that thing at Hot Topic.

"Are you wearing sunscreen?" I asked, pulling the bottle off the top shelf of my locker and shaking it at him.

His bemused smile confused me. "There is absolutely no sun out today."

Through a window in a nearby classroom I noticed the sky: black, heavy clouds threatening a downpour. I'd barely noticed in my absorption with Veronica.

"Perhaps you might show me to Room 73?" Lane offered his arm.

The charm was back, stronger than before. I again felt myself being drawn in. I did, however, notice the stares of my classmates as we walked through the halls together. Even girls with their own boyfriends on their arms watched us pass by, their eyes hard with jealousy. The heads of more than a few boys turned as well.

I imagined that this was what it felt like to be popular.

You know that I have never been "popular," never had a lot of friends. And while I didn't have a flock of friends around me, I felt like people suddenly knew who I was, that they wanted to be me.

No one has ever wanted to be me, some vampire wanna-be who gets pushed around in the hallway, an immature virgin who'd rather role play than do normal teenage stuff like write angsty love poems and stress about what to wear to the semi-formal.

I felt powerful.

There was only one small incident:

Buzzes of conversation rose up in our wake, murmurs of "Who's that?" and "He's gorgeous" and "Why is he with that loser?" This buzz fit in nicely with the buzzing already thrumming throughout my entire body at Lane's touch.

Out of nowhere I heard a growl.

My head whipped around, searching for the source of that noise. My mind had already conjured up the image of a giant wolf, maybe the one who had killed that livestock or eaten all those hikers.

Instead I saw a group of students standing underneath one of the "Save the Wolves" signs. I recognized Mara from last week, carefully adding information about an upcoming Animal Rights Club meeting to the poster with a Sharpie, but I didn't recognize the three students beside her. A girl with glossy brown hair, and two boys who looked like weight lifters.

All three of them glaring at Lane and me.

Lane never turned toward the sound. He continued walking at his usual pace, only now he was dragging me along.

When we were out of their line of sight, I asked, "Did one of those kids... growl? At us?"

Lane's expression had settled into that of a marble statue—entirely unreadable.

We arrived at Room 73, and Lane pulled me from his arm. He faced me. "Thank you for showing me the way," he said.

My eyes were locked on his.

The cerulean blue color was darker today, a light gray. I might have completely lost myself in them, but I felt his cold hands cupping my face, his thumbs light on my cheeks. I think I might have gone weak at the knees again, but somehow his light touch kept me standing upright.

His eyes grew larger, and slowly I realized that he was moving his face closer to mine. I closed my eyes, and at the last minute remember to close my gaping mouth.

His lips weren't as cold as his hands, but they were soft, fitting over mine.

I can't be sure how long the kiss lasted. It seemed like the students in the hallway were flying by, their whispers a high-pitched buzz whizzing past.

When Lane broke contact, everything seemed too bright. I staggered a bit without his hands to hold me steady. He said nothing, but smiled at me before ducking into Room 73.

My backpack suddenly felt too heavy, and I nearly crashed into the lockers before getting my bearings straight, inciting the giggles of passing students. It took almost too long to get myself together enough to remember what class I was supposed to be going to, although once I did I realized I was standing right outside the door. My feet had remembered what my brain had not.

For about two minutes at my locker I had been convinced that Lane was not a vampire. Despite all the teen vampire novels I'd read, like Twilight or Vampire Academy, I couldn't imagine that vampires would attend high school. Vampires could not come out in sunlight. While today might be an exception, the number of days where the sun was shining would make it impossible for a vampire to attend school. I couldn't take all the oddball rules of the Twilight vampires and think there was any real basis for them. Besides, Middlebury, Massachusetts wasn't Forks, Washington. We might have our share of snowstorms and rain and erratic weather patterns, but sunlight wasn't hard to come by here. Lane being a vampire... it was impossible.

Yet he had asked me how to get somewhere, in a school where he, as a human, would have been unfamiliar, and unless my feet somehow led him to Room 73 as they were dragging on the ground, Lane had found his own way there.

I reasoned that he might have taken a tour with his parents at some point. He might have already mapped out where his classes were, and had asked me to escort him as an excuse to be near me. Because maybe he liked me.

If only I'd had any experience with boys before this point!

That kiss had been my first. I kept touching my lips to make sure they were still there, but the clammy feel of my fingers didn't at all match what his lips had felt like. You'll have to forgive me if my thoughts at the time focused mostly on the kiss, and less on whether or not he was a supernatural creature. The kiss was real, even if the powerful spell he cast over me had evaporated.

My first kiss!

And I had no one to tell.