When Stars Come Out (When Stars Come Out 1)

“Can’t they stop it?”

“Trust me, people have tried. It just resurfaces about a week later with a different look.”

Great. I’ll be under constant threat of having my crazy projected to the entire school.

“We should probably get to class,” Shy says after a moment. “The teachers are really fond of detention.”

Just as we start to walk, a loud caw makes my heart jump in my throat. I spin around to see a large black bird swoop down from the branches of a tree and fly into the bright sky—the only witness to my secret.

“Is that a crow?” I ask Shy, and when

I look at him, my heart falls from my throat into my stomach. His expression holds tension.

“No,” He shifts his bright-eyed gaze to me. “A raven.”

I swallow hard. Thank God birds can’t talk.

***

My last class of the day is physical education. Lennon and I change in the field house and walk to the football field where a black track circles the turf. Even though it’s warm, Lennon wears a baggy, long-sleeved shirt. I wonder why she feels the need to hide her thin frame.

The air around me is punctuated with coaches’ whistles, the crack of helmets and gear, and high-pitched chants from cheerleaders practicing on the sidelines. Among them is Natalie, who continues her routine while glaring at me—a combination of skills I find equally impressive and annoying.

We merge with the crowd of P.E. students as Coach David instructs us.

“You know the drill. Run one lap, walk one lap—five sets,” says Coach David, though he doesn’t look like the kind of person who can do either of those without having a heart attack. “Anyone who wants extra credit can run two laps and walk one.”

Extra credit? Who needs extra credit in P.E.? Then Coach David addresses Lennon and me. “Ryder, new girl—” students turn to stare, and move a couple steps away. Clearly, they heard about my episode in art class. Lennon’s the only one who doesn’t seem to know—or care. “Ten points deducted for tardiness.”

Seriously? Today is the worst.

Coach David places the whistle in his mouth and blows. Lennon and I hang back until most of the crowd disbands.

“By the way,” Lennon says, nudging me with her elbow before we hit our stride running. “He’s number twenty-two.”

“Who?”

“Shy,” Lennon gives me a lopsided grin, and I avoid her gaze, hoping to hide my flushed face. “He’s hard to forget, isn’t he?”

The tone of Lennon’s voice is admiring, and I wonder if she has a crush on Shy, but what I’d seen of their interactions today told me the feelings definitely aren’t reciprocated. Who has caught Shy’s attention, and how many of those girls has Natalie managed to chase away?

We begin our lap.

“So,” I say, breathing raggedly. “This curfew thing...does anyone actually obey it?”

“Yeah, it’s hard not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the doors lock at ten, and the only exits that work have fire alarms.” This place is more like a prison than I imagined. No wonder Shy’s glad he doesn’t live here. “Apparently, there were talks about lifting it, but then about fifty years back, a girl snuck out after curfew and hung herself in front of Emerson Hall. Left a suicide note and everything.”

Well, that explains a few things.

“But why keep curfew for the whole county?”

She shrugs. “I guess they think it controls crime.”

I might accept that explanation if I were normal, but I have a feeling the curfew has to do with the dead. They have a tendency to disrupt things, especially after dark.