When Stars Come Out (When Stars Come Out 1)

“What’s happening?” Because it looks an awful lot like public shaming.

“Remember when I told you something way bigger would overshadow your weirdness in art?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Lily Martin left her phone in English yesterday. Someone read her texts and discovered she’s been sexting a guy from Rayon High School. It’s all over Roundtable, with pictures.”

“So?”

“So?” Lennon looks at me, astonished. “She was sexting someone from Rayon High School!”

“Don’t you think seventy-five percent of the student body has sexted? Just because Lily got caught doesn’t mean she should be ridiculed.”

“Oh, you have it all wrong,” Lennon explains. “It’s not that she was sexting, it’s who.”

“You mean to say it is a crime that she looked outside of Nacoma Knight Academy for a love interest?”

Lennon shrugs. “Something like that.”

I hate this place already. It’s only a matter of time before Roundtable gets their hands on me...and well, I haven’t decided what exactly I’ll do when that happens.

Lily heads toward Walcourt, but my attention is diverted to a figure standing with his hands in his pockets, head inclined, watching Lily. It’s Thane, and he’s the only one who doesn’t move aside as if she’s the plague. As she nears him, she glances up momentarily. I can’t see her face but there’s hesitation in her step. It’s the way Thane looks at her—with soft features and eyes, as if to say it’s okay, I’m here, and yet Lily doesn’t move to him. She continues past him, brushing his shoulder, disappearing into Walcourt.

I look away and start walking. Lennon follows beside me.

“Does Lily have enemies here?” I ask.

Lennon shrugs a lithe shoulder. “It’s not about having enemies. Anyone can end up on Roundtable, even the most popular. It’s like standing trial and your peers are the jury. Depending on what

they read, you’ll either retain your rank or fall from grace.”

“Who do you think posted the texts?” I ask, glancing at Lennon.

“Who knows. The site is anonymous...that’s why Roundtable is so powerful.”

I want to laugh at the seriousness of Lennon’s words but I know she’s not joking.

“Has anyone ever posted about you?”

Lennon’s smile cuts across her face wickedly and I get the sense someone would rue the day they tried to expose Lennon Ryder.

“Never.”

Lunch begins differently today—no Lennon or horde of zombie-students. Instead, I stop by my locker to exchange books and head for detention.

“Hey,” Shy’s voice startles me and I drop my books. I attempt to avoid eye contact as I kneel to get them and shove them in my bag, but Shy stoops to my level and helps. I glance at him, and find he’s watching me. “Sorry to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

Lie. He scares me, but not for the reason he thinks.

As I stand, I hit my head on my locker door. The pain is jarring and brings tears to my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Shy moves toward me, but falls back, as if unsure what he meant to do—I’m unsure of what he meant to do, too.

“Fine,” I say between my teeth and slam my locker door shut.

“Maybe you should see the nurse?”