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students settled down to work.
    â€œSo — is Conrad in any of your classes?” whispered Darrell. “Paris says he has him in music.”
    Brodie nodded. “From the look of my classes today, it seems like grade level is less important than interest in the subject matter. I had kids from all of the forms in every one of my classes.”
    Kate pulled out a leaflet from her binder. “You’re right, Brodie. It says here the teachers will establish individual learning outcomes for each student, and evaluation will be based on the outcomes.”
    â€œI guess that’s how Conrad can be in our Renaissance history class when he’s three years older than we are,” Darrell added glumly.
    â€œI’ll bet Conrad’s there so Professor Tooth can keep an eye on him,” said Brodie shrewdly.
    The sound of a dry cough made them all look up. “Completed your work, have you, Mr. Sun?”
    Mr. Dickerman, Brodie’s homeroom and archaeology teacher, was looking pointedly at Brodie’s closed books.
    â€œOh, yes, well — we’re getting right to it, sir,” Brodie said, flipping open his notebook. Darrell smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she’d had a group of friends to study with. She cracked the spine of her new history text, and the three of them bent their heads to the task at hand.

C HAPTER T HREE
    The following week passed in a rush of classes, meeting new students, and a dizzying amount of work to do. Expectations were high, and most out-of-class time was spent working on projects and assignments. To her relief, Darrell found the only class she shared with Conrad was the Renaissance history class, and her worry about being around him lessened.
    The weather continued to worsen as September moved into October, with blustery wind adding interest to the rain. The armchairs by the fire in the first-floor study came into high demand. Darrell was curled up reading her history text when Kate stuck her head into the room.
    â€œYou’d better get a move on, Darrell. We’ve got history in five minutes.”
    Darrell glanced at the already darkening sky through the window and then down at her watch.“Okay, I’m coming.” She stood up and grabbed her books.
    Kate held the study door open. “Have you seen Paris anywhere? He’s got my textbook.”
    Darrell shook her head. “He’s probably in the classroom.” But when they stepped into the class moments later, Paris wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
    Darrell dropped her books onto her desk. “He’s probably just lost track of time. I’ll go check the music room and you check the library.”
    Kate nodded. “If you find him, make sure he brings my textbook, okay?” She peeled out of the room and along the hall, while Darrell headed quickly down the stairs. She entered the music room to find Conrad taunting Paris, whose hair was now a vibrant shade of purple, in one corner of the room.
    â€œHey rich kid, nice hair.”
    â€œThanks. Glad you like it. And I wish I was.”
    Conrad sneered. “Wish you were what?”
    â€œRich. Actually, I am feeling pretty loaded today. I’ve got twenty bucks burning a hole in my pocket, but I’ll probably save it for the next time I go into town.”
    Darrell was getting used to seeing Conrad in the halls or in class, but the fear that rose in the back of her throat made her angry at herself every time. She frowned and took a step forward. “You coming to history, Paris?” she asked. “I thought you might’ve lost track of the time, and Kate needs her text back.”
    Conrad sneered at Darrell. “Get lost, Gimpy. I hear your teacher calling you.” He turned and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I can think of betterways to spend that money than you can, you purple-haired freak.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Paris’s expression became wary.