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What’s going on with you? Jared asked out of the blue. Kami felt his mind turn toward hers, away from his own life. It was like being in the middle of a conversation in a crowded room and having someone in an entirely different conversation among an entirely different group of people catch your eye. Multiplied by a thousand because, instead of eyes meeting, it was minds.
Beginning a new era of journalistic history, Kami told him, sending her cheer through their connection. Also, to be perfectly honest, Angela and I were slapping our asses.
As one does, said Jared.
And you?
There was a feeling like a shadow touching her, letting slip that Jared was unhappy, but he answered: Just reading. Beginning a new era of being a useless layabout. He absorbed her cheerfulness gratefully, and she could tell he was pleased for her.
Kami grinned up at Angela, who gave her a forbearing look. Kami realized that she had been standing and staring blankly for a little too long.
“Coming?” Angela asked with a small smile. She knew about Jared, though Kami tried not to talk about him too much. That was what had lost her Nicola Prendergast.
“Have I mentioned, thanks for doing this?” Kami asked.
Angela slung an arm around Kami’s shoulders as they went up the stairs. “Your soul is like the souls of a thousand monkeys on crack, all smushed together,” she told Kami. “But enough about you. Show me to my napping sofa.”
They reached the blue door at the top of the stairs. It had a little window of clouded glass and wire mesh. Kami pulled out the chunky silver key that Ms. Dollard had somewhat reluctantly entrusted her with, turned it in the lock, and opened the door with a flourish. “Ta-dah!”
Kami and Angela peered into their new headquarters. The room was small. It had a wiry gray carpet, whitewashed brick walls, a big cupboard, several desks, and Angela’s much-desired sofa. It was also filled, floor to ceiling, with empty cardboard boxes.
“I hate you so much right now,” said Angela.
Kami and Angela spent twenty minutes clearing out their new office together. Then Angela gave up, gave a low moan, and fell onto the sofa, which was still covered in boxes. She lay there, her arm thrown over her eyes.
Kami kept cleaning up, whistling to herself as she folded and stacked piles of cardboard and dust fell around her like soft gray rain. Her glittery blue scarf, pencil skirt, and vintage Liberty blouse were not, she had to admit, the ideal clothes for manual labor. But she’d wanted to make a statement on her first day as a journalistic pioneer.
Kami was wrestling with a box that was determined never to fold, when there came a tap on the open door. She looked up from her giant origami creation, into the eyes of the best-looking guy she had ever seen.
There were two things about him that were more important than good looks. One was that he had a serious, substantial camera hanging from around his neck. The other was that Kami had never seen him before in her life, which meant he must be a Lynburn.
Chapter Two
The Prince of Aurimere
Kami’d always retold her fairy tales to make the fair maidens braver and more self-sufficient, but she had never had any real objection to the handsome prince. And here one was, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans instead of armor, with golden hair that curled at the ends and eyes the ridiculous blue of high-summer skies, drenched in sunlight and melted clouds.
Those blue eyes were, of course, fixed on Angela. “Uh, hi,” said the Lynburn, wearing the same expression all boys did when they met Angela, as if they had been smacked in the face and were enjoying it. “Are you Kami Glass?”
Angela lifted the arm over her eyes a fraction. “Go away,” she commanded. “I only date college guys.”
“You don’t know any college guys,” Kami pointed out.
Angela’s gaze went to Kami, and she smiled. “Which leaves me with more time for napping.” She closed her eyes again, leaving Kami and the Lynburn looking at each other.
Kami had to hand it to the guy. Most males were in retreat or infuriated when faced with Angela’s inexplicable rudeness. This guy’s expression had not changed, apart from a slight widening of his eyes. She admired his self-control.
“I saw a flyer on the bulletin board about the school newspaper needing a photographer, and it said to come here after school.” He had a lovely, drawling American accent: more proof he was a Lynburn.
His voice also sounded unruffled. Was he really offering to be a photographer for the paper, despite the fact that he’d just been insulted and their office was awash in cardboard?
Angela sat bolt upright and glared at Kami. “You put up a flyer? Before you even talked me into this?”
“Angela, Angela,” Kami said. “We can dwell on the past or we can move into the future!”
“I can hide your body in these piles of boxes. Nobody will ever find it.” Angela made a gesture of dismissal at the new kid. “Do you mind?”
He looked at Kami, who gave him a winning smile. This was how it went after Angela dismissed a guy: then he would take a look at Kami. Which didn’t always work out for Kami. Angela was the one with the exotic beauty, which was unfair considering that Kami was the one with the Japanese grandmother. Kami’s hair was black but shot with brown, not the raven’s-wing black of Angela’s hair. Kami’s features were subtly different from her schoolmates’, and her skin was pale gold, but she was betrayed by a nose dusted with freckles. Exotic beauties did not sport freckles.
