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showed me her books about art, I'd always loved Klimt. I was in awe of the way
he gilded every pane and line, and I liked the prettiness of the pale faces
that peeped out from the kaleidoscopic images he created. Now, however, the
image had changed for me. I'd never paid as much attention to the way the
couple tilted toward each other—the man leaning in from above, as if tugged
toward her by some inexorable force. The woman's head fell back in a swoon,
giving in to gravity's pull. Her lips were dark against the paleness of her
skin, flushed with blood. Most beautiful of all, the picture's shimmering
background no longer appeared to be something separate from the man and woman.
Now it felt as if it was a rich, warm mist, their love made visible, turning
the world around them to gold.

The man's hair was darker than Lucas's, but I was trying to imagine him there
nonetheless. My cheeks felt warm—blushing again—but this was a different kind
of blush.

I jerked back to the here and now; it felt almost as if I'd fallen asleep and
begun to dream. Quickly I smoothed my hair and took a couple of deep breaths. I
realized I could hear Glenn Miller's "String of Pearls" on the
stereo. Big Band music always meant that Dad was in a good mood.

I couldn't help but smile. At least one of us liked Evernight Academy.

When I finally finished my packing, it was nearly dinnertime. I went into the
living room, where music was still playing, to find Mom and Dad dancing
together, being a bit silly with it—Dad pursing his lips, mock sexy, and Mom
holding the hem of her black skirt in one hand.

Mom spun around in Dad's arms, and he dipped her backward. She tilted her head
almost to the floor, smiling, and saw me. "Sweetheart, there you
are." She was still upside down as she spoke, but then Dad righted her.
"Did you get your packing done?"

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me get started. And thank you for the picture;
it's beautiful." They smiled at each other, relieved to have made me
happy, at least a little bit.

"Quite a feast tonight." Dad nodded toward the table. "Your
mother outdid herself." Mom didn't usually cook big meals; the night was
definitely a special occasion. She'd made all my favorites, more than I could
ever eat. I realized that I was starving because I'd gone without lunch, and for
the first part of the dinner, Mom and Dad had to speak to each other. My
appetite kept my mouth too full to talk.

"Mrs. Bethany said they've finally finished refitting the labs," Dad
said between sips from his glass. "I hope I have a chance to check them
out before the students do. Might have some equipment so modern that I don't
know what to do with it."

"This is why I teach history," Mom replied. "The past doesn't
change. It just gets longer."

"Will I have you guys for teachers?" I said through a full mouth.

"Swallow your food." The Dad command seemed automatic. "Wait and
see tomorrow, like the others."

"Oh. Okay." It wasn't like him to cut me off that way, and I felt
taken aback.

"We can't get in the habit of giving you too much extra information,"
Mom said more gently. "You need to have as much as possible in common with
the rest of the students, you know?"

She meant it lightly, but it hit me hard. "Who is it here I'm supposed to
have something in common with? The Evernight kids whose families have been
coming here for centuries? The outsiders who fit in here even worse than I do?
Which group am I supposed to be like?"

Dad sighed. "Bianca, be reasonable. There's no point in arguing about this
again."

It was past time to let it go, but I couldn't. "Right, I know. We came
here 'for my own good.' How is leaving our home and all my friends good for me?
Explain that again, because I never quite got it."

Mom laid her hand over mine. "It's good for you because you've almost
never left Arrowwood. Because you rarely even left our neighborhood unless we
forced you. And because the handful of friends you made there couldn't possibly
sustain