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hunt for weeks, perhaps months if he were clever about it.
    Or, she could take the blood and it would catch, something malicious in him suggested.
    “No,” Trystan said in a low voice. “I won’t.”
    “Excuse me? What did you say?” Her eyes were so large, gray streaked with green accents. He could stare into them for eternity.
    His mind made up, he twisted, gripping the railing to drop over the edge of the balcony, landing with nary a sound on the grass below. Then he made the mistake of looking up, and was once again transfixed by her gaze.
    “What’s your name?” she asked.
    “Trystan.” Now that was a stupid thing to go and do.
    He did not look back again, as he passed through the hedge, just one more shadow escaping in the night.
     

 
    Chapter 6
    The New Kids
     
    Mrs. van Zyl had warned them the Friday already that two new students would be starting at Rubidge Private Secondary School the following Monday–two kids from Cape Town.
    She had intimated they had suffered some sort of trauma and would be boarders and please would everyone be kind to them. They had only arrived late on the Sunday. Apparently their car had broken down on the N9 National Road outside of Graaff-Reinet, so Etienne only caught his first glimpse of Helen and Damon Ashfield at breakfast on Monday.
    Oh, the brother would be teased all right. He was a skinny pale boy with freckles, and a shock of red hair tumbled into his eyes. His expression was permanently bemused, as if he still couldn’t figure out where he was and where he was going.
    Helen did not look like a hopeless loss, however. She’d pinned her strawberry blond hair back with pretty sparkly clips and she had nice legs–her blue jeans fit her well. She’d never bother looking at Etienne, though. Nearly all the girls treated him with a mixture of pity and contempt. Except for Arwen, of course.
    Helouise and some of the other matrics–nice enough girls–had taken the newcomers under their collective wing, so Etienne didn’t dare approach them. He wished Arwen was here, though she would no doubt have been making some biting comments by now.
    Etienne worried about Arwen. Since the incident with her tarot cards three days previously, she had not returned to school. A family member had collected her that very day. She had not called or texted–which was very unlike her, so he fretted.
    He’d sent a short text this morning and had received no answer. Computer literacy classes were after their tea break, so he could only hope to send her a proper email then.
    The new kids noticed him for the first time when they were lining up in the quad before filing into the hall for assembly.
    To give Helen some credit, she had tried not to stare. Damon, on the other hand, had sneaked furtive glances until the last possible moment, even spinning around a few times once the grade eights were finally seated.
    Their headmistress, the rather cadaverous Ms. Engelbrecht, went through her usual, tedious drill with a Bible reading and the same, tiresome hymns pounded away on the piano by one of the music teachers. Their school was, after all, still nominally Christian, and old Engelbrecht never let them forget that.
    Helen and Damon Ashfield were officially welcomed and Etienne cringed on their behalf when they were made to stand in front of the entire school. Damon’s complexion almost matched his hair color.
    Ms. Engelbrecht did this to all the new students. He remembered his own humiliation all too clearly. His dubious welcome had been even worse because he’d started halfway through grade eight, when most of the kids had already had ample time to form their little cliques. They’d laughed when he’d stumped up onto the stage. He’d thought, at first, that this was some cruel practical joke aimed specifically at him, until Arwen informed him he certainly wasn’t the first, or the last.
    Poor Arwen. Like him, she had also been a newcomer. Only, she’d been ill for the first month of