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to say, “Well if you’re certain you have the time…” And, possibly because Cody is still looking into her eyes, she drops her pen on the floor. Which is when she notices Sicilee, hovering beside her like an exceptionally brightly dressed ghost.
    “Sicilee?” Sicilee is not a girl her English teacher has ever been tempted to describe as ethereal, but she does look as though she may be having an out-of-body experience. “Sicilee? Is there something you wanted?”
    Sicilee returns to reality with a start. “What?” She drags her smile from the scenic experience that is Cody Lightfoot to the dingy alley that is the head of the English department. “Oh, yeah, right, yeah. I just wanted to check with you about the book report? I know we’ve got a minimum length, but is there a maximum? You know, because the book I’m doing, it works on so many levels…?” Sicilee steams on like a runaway train, hoping to impress Cody Lightfoot with her sophistication and intelligence. She doesn’t distract herself by glancing over to see his reaction. She’ll wait until she’s done, and then she’ll turn and give him one of her biggest smiles. And as they sit down, she’ll introduce herself and welcome him to Clifton Springs. “…I picked it because it really is a modern classic, and I think you could say not just an American modern classic but a world—”
    “You write as much as you want, Sicilee,” cuts in Mrs Sotomayor, who knows very well that Sicilee picked this particular book because she can watch the movie and not have to read it. “Now if you’ll take your seat, I think it’s about time we started this class.”
    “Oh, sure, right…” Sicilee turns, her smile bright as sunshine. It is, perhaps, a testament to the indefatigable human spirit that Sicilee’s smile doesn’t dim when she realizes that Cody Lightfoot is not at the desk next to the one that holds her orange backpack. He is sitting at the back of the room. Between Kristin and Farley Hubble. Which is where Sicilee usually sits.
    “Sicilee?” prompts Mrs Sotomayor.
    Sicilee takes her new seat. She is still smiling.
    This, of course, is not further evidence of the indefatigable human spirit. It is simply to stop her from groaning out loud.

Chapter Six

This is how stalkers are made
    Within minutes of her first sight of him, Maya Baraberra decided that it wasn’t a 747 that brought Cody Lightfoot to Clifton Springs, but Fate. They were destined to meet. Didn’t she have a feeling that this year was going to be seriously significant? Didn’t she say? It made total sense.
    But when Cody didn’t materialize in her homeroom or her first class of the day, Maya realized that if she wanted to get him into her group before someone else claimed him, she was going to have to give Destiny a hand.
    Which is why, at this very moment, she and Alice are slouching away from school in the rain, following the figure in the old army parka (winter issue), hood up, several yards ahead of them.
    “I can’t believe that I let you talk me into this,” grumbles Alice. “I feel like a stalker.”
    “Don’t be so melodramatic. We’re more like spies. We’re having an adventure.”
    Alice isn’t really the adventurous type. “What if he turns around and sees us?”
    “I wouldn’t worry about it.” Unlike Sicilee, Maya doesn’t feel she always has to smile. “I don’t think he’d notice me if I was wrapped in Christmas lights.” Wrapped in Christmas lights and holding a flaming torch between her teeth. “Besides, what if he does? We just happen to be going in the same direction. It is a free country, you know.”
    Alice’s sigh is drowned out by someone shouting behind them. “Cody! Cody, man! Wait up!”
    Cody stops and half turns around, and Maya stops breathing. If proof was needed that either she is invisible or he is blind, he waves amiably at someone behind her. Maya’s heart resumes beating as Clifton Springs’ two token goths splash past